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date : 4:23 am - Thursday,April 5, 2001
from : mrp
subject : PANTSMAIL 012: Eating, drinking, bowling... BOMBS!
message:
Hey Foxy,
What's up, yo. New Pantsmail.
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I had the good folks at Network Solutions do the Table of Contents for this one:
For the following Table of Contents, the numeric order is correct. The order in which items appear is incorrect. Please ignore the order in which they appear. If you need to see these items listed so that each appears in the correct order, please rearrange the following list in numeric order using your computer's copy and paste features.
03. GROSS EATER
05. CONCEPT ALBUM IDEA
08. DUMB TIRADE
04. NERD BOMB
09. S.A.D.
02. TRUE DUCKPIN BOWLING RECOLLECTION FROM PETE, ESQ.
07. BOWLING VIDEO GAME
10. YOU ROCK, YOU
06. COFFEE BARFLY
01. CHICKEN BOMB
An addition has been made. A new 06 should appear between the current 05 and 06. Please add 1 to every number greater than 06. The new 06 is "06. CHICKEN BOMB FOR THE SOUL." Thank you.
There may be other items not listed in the Table of Contents.
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CHICKEN BOMB
I found that on a note written to myself. I have no recollection of writing it. (It happens. Kind of a lot, actually.) I'm not sure if there was more to the idea and "chicken bomb" was supposed to trigger a lot of other thoughts, or if that's the extent of it.
Here's the beginning of a chicken bomb story, based on that note to myself:
Farmer Doug had just finished tending to his largest corn field, removing the rogue corn that the corn roguers had missed, looking for ragweed, and whatnot. He was riding his tractor back to the barn to water the horses when he heard an explosion. He looked up to see dust settling near the chicken coop.
"Oh no," he said under his breath, "not another chicken bomb!"
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TRUE DUCKPIN BOWLING RECOLLECTION FROM PETE, ESQ.
(Don't tell Pete, but I added some parts. -mrp)
When I was a FOUL-SMELLING seven-year-old, I bowled a perfect game at a duck pin bowling alley in Charlottesville, Virgina at a friend's birthday party/bowling outing THAT I WASN'T INVITED TO. I remember it like it was yesterday. "Good Times" by Chic was playing and everyone else at the party hoisted me up on their seven-year-old arms and threw me in the air AND DROPPED ME ON MY ASS IN THE MIDDLE OF LANE NUMBER THREE, and then we ate an ice cream cake and drank Tang. EXCEPT FOR ME BECAUSE I WAS AFRAID OF TANG. AND ICE CREAM GAVE ME HIVES. My photo was taken at the alley and put up with the caption, "seven year old duck pin bowling prodigy IS A TOTAL WUSS". I never touched another duck pin bowling ball again in my life because I knew that on that one day I had LOST the touch. I was FIRST IN LINE FOR THE golden DUMBASS AWARD. With the help of disco greats the Village People and Chic, and my fine 1977 Kip Power shoes, I was it. I was the person who bowled a perfect duck pin game.
BY THE WAY, MY MOM MADE ME CRASH THAT PARTY BECAUSE IT WAS DURING HER FREUD/ERIKSON/WATSON CHILD REARING MANIA; ATTENDING A BIRTHDAY PARTY TO WHICH I WAS NOT INVITED WAS SUPPOSED TO SHOW THOSE OTHER KIDS THAT MY MALADJUSTED EGO WAS NOT GOING TO BE BULLIED BY THEM. BUT THEN SHE RUINED IT BY MAKING ME WEAR THAT HAND-MADE TURTLENECK SWEATER. YOU KNOW WHAT, MOM? YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU CAN'T MAKE UP FOR YEARS OF CRAPPY PARENTING BY READING A FEW BOOKS. ASK ERIK ERIKSON WHAT HE HAS TO SAY ABOUT THAT.
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Dear reader, please feel free to send me your own duckpin bowling, 5-pin bowling, and feather bowling anecdotes. All anecdotes will be read. Aloud.
Actually, don't.
But do send me monkey stories. Just the true ones. Those are almost always good.
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GROSS EATER
You know how some people are gross eaters? I was trying to think if anyone I know right now is a gross eater, and no one came to mind. So then I thought, well, I must know SOMEONE who's a gross eater. And I kept trying to think if I knew anyone who was and then I realized that I'm usually so busy eating when I'm eating with someone that I don't even notice. So then that made me think that maybe I AM A GROSS EATER!
Here's something to do the next time you're out eating a meal with someone in a restaurant. When the food arrives, don't start eating, just watch the other person eat. That way you can figure out if they're a gross eater or not. If they are, then you can maybe tell them that.
Another good thing to do: stare at their teeth. What if you just went around staring at peoples' teeth? How long before you become known as "that annoying teeth-starer?" (Hint: it took me less than 2 days.)
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NERD BOMB
Chicken bomb made me think of Nerd Bomb. Wouldn't that be a great weapon? A nerd bomb?
Nerd says, "It certainly will not hurt me, because I am not a--"
BOOM! Ha ha ha.
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CONCEPT ALBUM IDEA
Just this: an album of songs where each song is named after outfits that people wore to the Grammies. For example, you might have a song called, "The red dress that Gwen Stefani wore to the Grammies."
I told 2 people this idea. One said it was brilliant. The other said it sounded like a crappy album, which I choose to take as more of a slam on the Grammies than the idea.
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CHICKEN BOMB FOR THE SOUL
There isn't much to this entry at all. It just seems to be a logical extension of the chicken bomb concept. And maybe it's what the original "chicken bomb" note was all about in the first place.
The original chicken bomb note should be called "The Chicken Bomb Memo." Or wait, better would be, "The alleged Chicken Bomb Memo," like it's part of a conspiracy.
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COFFEE BARFLY
I was thinking that if I didn't have a job (which I only sort of do right now, but if I didn't have one at all) that I might spend my days swimming through mug after mug of delicious, fresh-brewed coffee.
I would drink it down, ceaselessly--in the manner that days go by, or like waves on the beach.
Until I got so sick and jittery that I died.
ODing on coffee, that's going out like a sucker.
And I ain't gonna go out like that.
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BOWLING VIDEO GAME
I was in a bowling alley (to do some bowling, natch) and they had one of those bowling video games. So dumb. The only way it could be dumber is if it was a bowling role-playing game.
I stood on a table and yelled as loud as I could: "I. AM. HERE. TO. BOWL. Not virtual bowl! So screw you!" [While flashing everyone "the bird." Aw yeah.]
Not really, because then I would've been asked to leave and I wouldn't have gotten to do any bowling, real or virtual.
(Sigh.)
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I LOVE THAT.
"Sigh." Ha, I love that.
Ahem. Oh, never mind.
(Sigh.)
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DUMB TIRADE
Actually I deleted the dumb tirade. Instead, here's a short skit:
SETTING: A CUBICLE IN A NON-DESCRIPT OFFICE. WE HEAR PEOPLE TYPING ON KEYBOARDS AND THE GENERAL SHUFFLING ABOUT OF AN EARLY TWENTY-FIRST-CENTURY WORKPLACE.
GREG: [reading from his computer screen] The skit's been canceled.
AUNT BESS: Wait, has the skit been canceled? Or is this the skit right now?
READERS: [in unison] We're tired of this. Besides, we stopped reading long before we even got to the skit.
GREG: [still reading from his computer screen] It says here, "Good. If you're not even going to read it, then I'm glad the skit is canceled."
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S.A.D.
This winter I figured out that I have S.A.D.
Only in my case the acronym doesn't stand for
Seasonal
Affective
Disorder.
Instead, it's for
San francisco winters are
Assy and
Depressing as hell.
Boy am I glad it's spring. (Even if it's still sort of cold. And still kind of assy.)
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YOU ROCK, YOU
I like telling people, "you rock, you!" because it's almost always true. Who doesn't rock? I mean, aside from old people.
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Sorry about the skit. And the Table of Contents. Etc.
But thank you for reading the parts that you did read. Also, thank you for your continued patronage of misterpants:
http://www.misterpants.com/01
Sincerely,
-mrp
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