Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Little Debbie is a Footy Pajama Wearing Man...and other stories

I think I missed my calling.  I really do.

When I was little I would practice faces and voices and general goofing around.  I wanted to be on SNL in such a bad way. I think I could have done it...honestly, I do.  After a while, I could have graduated to the Weekend Update and then to writing....not so much because of my incredible acting or singing (well, for sure not because of that), but because of my mind....my weird and curious mind.

For instance.

Today I had to go the grocery store at 6:45am BEFORE work because that's normal and totally fine.

 Thing #1 - I saw a teenager in a footy pajama outfit and it just pissed me off.  Why?  Because it's annoying.  I find the movement by teenaged girls and/or adult aged to be cutesy and bimbo-ish really offensive.  FOOTY PAJAMAS?  Come on.  In my mind, I thought of a group of women in a room all wearing footy pajamas and sweating their asses off.  It would be like a spin-off of Orange is the New Black.  Imprisoned in a hot cage of pajama.  Shanks made of bunny zippers.  It got weird from there.  I'll spare you the details. 

Thing #2 -I had a tax exempt form because it was a work purchase so generally that was annoying to the clerk.  Said clerk did not have on a name tag and I wished with all my might that there was one present because I was dealing with a Pat.  You know - It's PAT!!  I honestly could not tell if it was a man or a woman.  So I made ridiculous, obnoxious small talk and sweating profusely as if I were wearing footy pajamas.  All I could think of was those sketches where they stare at Pat to see if he/she has boobs or a bulge.  It was terrible. 

Thing #3 - An unaccompanied Little Debbie delivery truck was running idle outside of the store upon my exit.  I immediately went into a daydream where I hijacked the truck, took it on a joy ride and ate nothing but Oatmeal Cream Pies and Swiss Cake Rolls for days thus sending me into a serious sugar-related illness/disease.   The authorities had to send in a swat team to tear me out of the truck as I had become a rabid, Nutty-Bar eating lunatic.  My sidekick was Pat the clerk and s/he was wearing footy pajamas.

Shaking my head, I got into my car and started my day.  I felt exhausted all of a sudden.  It was only 7am.

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