YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED


1. You suddenly remember - while in the checkout line -You forgot mini-marshmallows. You leave without comment. The line continues to move and upon Your return, as I’m placing My items on the conveyor belt, You step back where You were - apparently unaware of anything odd, like You’d just momentarily vanished in a Time/Space Warp. You then give ME a funny look, like “What are you doing?”. Sorry, I forgot the Secret Signal for “I’m too much of a fucking dumbass to remember one thing and I’m coming right back”. One Thing, I might add, You should frankly avoid. That’s what I'm doing and contrary to everything You believe, it’s not about You.

2. You’re a Cell Phone Driver. You barely make it through Pilates Class without a cigarette yet think You can manage a 2000 lb. piece of machinery and talk to Your agent at the same time. In sunglasses too dark for Ray Charles and chain-smoking. You think You’re Jane or James Bond rushing to an Urgent Mactor (Model/Actor) Mission. That one car You sliced in front of could make all the difference! All of Mactor Life as we know it hangs in the balance! You’re probably changing your iPod with Your toes and faxing headshots with Your tightly coiled sphincter.

You, I’ve actually started to fight. Now I just pretend I’m on My cell. To the President or My Assistant or Michael Moore. We’re in a very very heated discussion, one in which I make Evil Faces and yell and nod alot. Plus My Jeep’s probably dirty. Certainly not someone You want to Fuck With. Naturally I’m not on my cell at all. I don’t even need one, I just put My elbow on the window and My hand to My ear. Singing along to Pissed-Off Sinead O’Conner works every time.

3. You stand staring at the ATM. What is this so-called “cash machine”? From whence has it sprung? You’re actually holding a card, so I assume while You may not be from Earth, at some point You sat ten minutes in front of a Bank Employee. The ATM is patient. “Do you need more time?” it purrs all Julie Andrews Psych-Ward Nurse dispensing Percodan. I, on the other hand, am seconds from grabbing Your card from Your chubby little fingers and screaming “Just give me your fucking PIN, for Christ’s Sake!” This whole newfangled “Button Concept” freaks you out, as if their placement changes every time. Hours later, after examining Your receipt in front of the screen like it was The Constitution, You amble to Your illegally parked SUV, pull out Your Cell and leave.

12:10:22 PM    sro home /