I know y’all come here to relax, lower your blood pressure, boost your immune system, and generally shoot beverages out of unexpected orifices, and…
Well, studies suggest that laughter is the best medicine and does all of that for you! Sheesh. If you don’t believe me, then here’s proof:
See? I told you so.
But you aren’t here to learn about the best drug-induced laughing attack. I’m not yo dealer. I’m not anyone’s dealer. Drugs are bad for you.
(Side note: it seriously took me 30 minutes to write that last sentence and it sucks.) Moving on…
I usually set aside special times during the day — especially for me — to humiliate myself in public. It’s not something I write on my schedule with a pencil only to be erased later for not having done so, because it’s inevitable. I confidently use a pen or permanent marker on that shit because there is always a 100% chance that I will do something stupid.
Now, I know you’re thinking: “I can see your point, but I still think you’re full of shit.”
Bup, bup, bup (holding up my finger to silence your objections), let me explain.
You know how you were always taught that you should never leave your house without wearing clean underwear? I mean, you didn’t really want a paramedic knowing that you were wearing dirty underwear; although, I don’t see why that matters, because you probably soiled your britches when you had an accident anyway. Well, wearing dirty underwear was not my problem, because I wasn’t wearing any underwear at all. No, no, no, I was a ninja…going commando.
After running on the trail at the local park, my friend and I finally reached the end. I was exhausted and sweating like a whore on half-price day at the end of the month, trying to cover my rent.
As I slowed to a snail’s pace, my ankle gave out on me and I toppled over, falling to the ground. For a brief moment, I thought the Lilliputians were going to tie me to the ground like they did to poor Gulliver in the Land Of Lilliput, but alas, I was brought back to my senses and instead was faced with fellow runners who just watched me lie there…legs spread…panty-less…staring at the gap my shorts had created. Luckily, my friend noticed too, and thankfully had the wherewithal to point and announce to those who were unaware of my situation, “You’re not wearing any underwear!”
Me: “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I don’t think the President heard you way over there on Pennsylvania Avenue.”
We were in Ohio, so for you non-geography majors, that’s like, oh…a lot of miles.
Anyway, at that point, I knew that the f–ked up fairy had visited me again, but there was a nice gentleman who helped me hobble back to my car. I’m sure he was glad to help my underwear-less ass and wanted to thank me for the show. Helping me to my car was the least he could do.
Yeah, I know. It’s a thankless service I provide, but I’ve got a lot of karma to burn off.