It's Like a Kind of Torture to Have to Watch the Show

You know how when you mix all of your paints together, they combine to make a weird shit brown color? Well, I'm going to attempt to put a couple of different blog projects together today and see if it turns to shit too. Sound good?

First of all, the Saturday Scavenger Hunt word today was chosen by the Woman With no Regrets. She chose Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that, but then I found a friend on Facebook and remembered that I had written a post about him on my old blog. That's when I decided to mix the Scavenger hunt with my imaginary Facebook letters to people with my stealing posts from my old blog. I figured that word reminded me of being a kid and I would just post a photo (unfortunately not taken by me) that also reminded about something from childhood, that just so happened to go with the other two things. Exhale. Okay, so here's the post I wrote in February of 2006 about my friend Jim:


At work yesterday, we got on the subject of Fraggle Rock. You know how it is at work when everyone starts talking about Fraggle Rock, right? And then we had to move straight to The Muppet Show and everyone did their Beaker and The Swedish Chef impersonation and then we all realized what an unhealthy environment the office was in general. Next I wondered how I'd ever get through the next couple of hours until I got another brilliant idea and emailed my friend Rachie and asked her to kindly walk over and shoot me in the head but she didn't oblige. I'm sure she was only thinking of herself and how she couldn't go to prison AND grad school at the same time. She's so selfish.

Once I finally resigned myself to being stuck in the office for the next hour or so, I figured the only way to deal with it was to crack myself up. Talking about The Muppets reminded me of a time about a hundred million years ago when I was walking in downtown Iowa City right as the Spring football game was getting over and there were tons of people headed toward the bars. A guy I worked with at The Mill named Jim must have been walking directly behind me and thought it would be really funny to yell, "Hey, bitch! Excuse me whore." I'm sure he imagined that I would turn around and we'd both have a good laugh in front of all the bumble bee colored Hawkeye fans. He didn't count on my boundless sense of humor (apparently, no one ever does).

I thought it would be funny to pretend I didn't know him and so I ignored him and the huge pack of people were looking at him all shocked like he was the biggest asshole they had ever seen - and that was coming from a bunch of drunk people walking back from a football game. He tried one more time, because maybe I just hadn't heard the first two names he called me. "Slut! Slow down!" Which only made me speed up. He finally had to run to catch up to me so everyone who already shunned him would know that he really did know me and was only being funny. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha fuckin' ha.

"Oh my god. You are so mean," Jim said when he caught up to me. "You really are a bitch. I never wanted to tell you this before because it's not very nice, but now you've forced me. You know when you walk, you look exactly like Janice from Animal's band on the Muppet Show. Not your face or hair or anything. It's more the way you guys move. Have you seen how she bobs her head and her hair moves with it? Oh, and she slouches just like you do too. That's what you look like when you walk."

So, now every once in a while when I'm walking down the street and I catch my reflection in a store window, I think, "Fuck. I really do look like Janice from Animal's band when I walk." I guess Jim had the last laugh on that one. Although, he moved to Chicago a long time ago and doesn't know I still do that so maybe we'll just call it a draw.