The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘fear’

Crib Assembly

A number of years ago for Christmas I bought my mom a book, The Hypochondriac’s Guide to Life. And Death. It’s a humorous book that jokingly attempts to so overwhelm the reader with rare and deadly diseases that you can’t help but give up on your hypochondria.

My mom is not actually a hypochondriac at all, but she is one for her children. When I was 21 I was about 6’3 and let’s say 150-160 pounds … in case that doesn’t help – TALL AND SKINNY. I was debating the idea of signing up for a marathon class at college to help me prep for a marathon. Why not, right? My mom had recently seen a Sunday night news program talking about a tall, skinny, in shape young man who died suddenly and unexpectedly while training for a marathon. It was an incredibly rare heart condition that is generally only seen in skinny and tall fellas. Motivated by this, my mom made an appointment for me to get an EKG to check on my heart.

FullSizeRender(1)Having just opened up a box containing the pieces that will be used to assemble a (dear God please let it be safe and sturdy) crib, I am beginning to see the foundations of her hypochondria by proxy.

WARNING. IF YOU ARE WEARING A BAGGY T-SHIRT OR OUT-OF-FASHION SHORTS WHILE ASSEMBLING THIS CRIB, THIS MAY BE A HAZARD.

I think there is a warning for everything in the instructions. It’s comical until you reflect and realize what led to every single additional warning, and then it is gut-wrenching. Louis C.K.’s edgy don’t-touch-that-topic style approach to humor has nothing on crib assembly instructions.

The crazy thing is, even acknowledging this makes me fearful. What have you done to me, unborn child?

P.S. This may be the only product I will have ever registered for, since they send safety alerts. For once in my life, I’ll be rooting for spam instead of a real email.

Say Brad, Whatcha Got There? (Part 2)

This? It’s just my hand. Oh, wait, you’re pointing to that? That thing I’m holding in my hand?

Well, it’s just my lucky jar of mud.

You see, some people who like to travel are also worst case scenario thinkers, like me, for example. And, as worst case scenario thinkers, we just can’t help but imagine some classic traveler scenario such as eating a little bit of food that one is not used to, perhaps a drop of water that a body just doesn’t know what to do with, and then whala, while seeing the Taj Mahal the body up and announces itself in the most unpleasant of ways.

Yes sir, that’s why I’ve got my lucky jar of mud!

You see, I just throw this on my pants and soon everyone around me is saying, “oh, is that a jar of mud you threw on the backside of your nice pants? Cool! I wish I had one too!”

Some travelers may opt for an adult diaper or not being fearful of cosmic diarrhea, but other travelers, ones savvy like myself, well, we opt for a lucky jar of mud!

Isn’t the internet amazing? I searched ‘jar of mud’ and there really is a picture of a fairly gross looking jar of, what we hope is, mud.

My Zombie Roomy (7/30/10)

Every once and a while I go through a phase where I watch a bunch of stand-up comic videos on youtube and then I think about the idea of becoming a stand-up comic myself.

Me a stand-up comic! You betcha!

Like just now I already came up with another joke. Stand-up comic. Stand-up guy. I could do a whole routine on the boy scouts! (Work in progress.)

Anyway I’ve perhaps illustrated my point with the above ‘joke.’ I am a terrible comedian. Like, really awful. I thought I was bad, but I figured I couldn’t be that bad. So I tried some jokes out on the Zombie and I think he wants to kill me now? Not even like eat my brains – like killing me for practical reasons. He just really hated my act.

This is troublesome.

I wonder if there’s an emoticon to express worry over soon becoming the undead?

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