REASONS WHY ONE MIGHT DECIDE TO BECOME A TERRORIST INSTEAD OF A STAND-UP COMEDIENNE:

Them: Mercedes.

Me: Geo Prizm.

Them: Joyfully bouyant tires

Me: Sad, airless tires with eensy holes in them

Sigh....

I went beaching today.

With sand and umbrellas and mostly-naked people.

Here's what I learned whilst beaching:

(I try to learn something new at every place I go, you see. Even if it's just, "Next time, duck," it's still learning. )

(Wait. I meant duck-the-verb. Like, "Hey, you know how you hit your head on that ouchy pole? Next time, duck." I don't mean duck-the-noun. Like, "I enjoy chicken. But next time I'd like something different. Preferably an animal that is said twice and then followed by "goose." Next time, duck.")

(No animals were harmed in the writing of this blog, by the by. )

(Well, unless you count elephants.)

(Oh, this is another two-glass-of-wine-and-not-enough-sleep blog entry, isn't it friends?)

Children are splashy and I don't like it.

Parents are yelly and I don't like it.

Well yes. 'Twas a roundabout way to get to a not-very-interesting point, wasn't it?

I concur.

THINGS:

1) People pay a lot of money so they can sit in saunas and sweat. The air conditioning is not working in my car. Is this a potential money-making extravaganza?

2) Sometimes people read my blog in hopes of getting tips from an experienced stand-up comedienne like myself. I have one for them. It is this: As much as it seems like a good idea that everyone will love and get a chuckle out of, you might want to avoid accusing the audience members of incest. It seems that some people are sensitive about that sort of thing.

3) Someone CLEANED my kitchen this weekend. They did the DISHES and everything (the dishes, surprisingly did not cry out even once. They are not used to bathing, but took to it like fishies.)

According to this, a portion of the ABC News office was closed down on Friday when an employee found an unidentified white powder in a letter addressed to weatherman Sam Champion.

Our country has really deteriorated to the point that we’re sending out anthrax when we don’t like the weather??

I imagine the enclosed letter went something like this:

Dear Sam,

I was supposed to go boating yesterday. You said it wasn’t going to rain. But then it rained.

And now you’re going to have to die.

Kisses,

A Guy Without an Umbrella

I imagine his next target will be the fashion reporter ("But you SAID capris were a fashion DO!!")

Clearly I am behind on the news.

It seems that the world is surprised because an 11 year old child shot a 1051 pound pig.

Errrr....when one is shooting at a thousand-pound pig, wouldn't it be more surprising if you missed?

I might be on TV tonight.

I mean, I also might not. That's what's inherent in the word "might."

See, Last Comic Standing premieres tonight (NBC, 9pm EST) and since things went well in the audition process, there's a good chance I'll be shown.

There's also a good chance I'll cry on camera. Just to warn you.

Do watch.

My friend, Matt had a problem.

Not a life-shattering problem, mind you. It's not like someone was attacking his car every day and sticking nails in his tires or anything. It's not like he had to drive for nearly an hour in a torrential downpour last night whilst little (and by "little," I mean "giant") rain-pellets poured down into the hole that is now in his car and made his cute little black dress really quite damp and instead of looking eight-kinds-of-cute last night at his show, he looked a bit drowned-rat-esque.

No, not that kind of problem all (to be frank, Matt doesn't even own a cute little black dress.) He just had a normal-people problem.

See, there was a girl that had a crush on Matt. For many, this would be an occasion for happy-joy. But, sadly, Matt did not have a reverse-crush on said girl. In fact, he didn't like her even one little bit.

Now this girl worked with both of us and was constantly around, and Matt was too shy to say to the girl, "I hate you, I never want to go out with you, and it would be ok with me if you were eaten by a giant bear."

So we decided to create an imaginary girlfriend.

Because, you see, saying, "Sorry, I have a girlfriend." instead of "Sorry, I hope you get eaten by a bear," is considered much more appropriate in polite society. I don't know why.

Imaginary girlfriends are different from regular imaginary friends. The former are created by men who want to be left alone, whilst the latter are created by children who are left alone too much.

We named this particular imaginary girlfriend Kelly Updike. It was a good relationship, really. Kelly and Matt met at a wedding and hit it off immediately. Crush-girl left him alone. The plan was working exactly as hoped.

Until THIS fateful conversation a few weeks later:

Me: So Matt, how's Kelly?

Matt: She's pregnant, that's how!

Me: Errr....huh?

Matt: Pregnant!

Me: But she's....I mean.....That's impossible.

Matt: Yeah, I know. We were very careful. I'm not even convinced the baby's mine.

Me: Well, there's also the part where she's.....

Matt: A whore?

Me: Errrr.....

Matt: I'm a responsible guy, though. I'll marry her. I'll raise the child as my own.

Me: I have a headache.

I haven't heard from Matt in a while.

I can only assume it's because he's spending all of his time with his imaginary wife and imaginary children (well, technically, they're only half imaginary. On their mother's side.)

Someday soon, they will go to school and learn about imaginary numbers.

And, when they get old enough, hopefully Matt will warn them about the dangers of imaginary birth control

p.s. I am not making this story up. For realsies.