_ So, I seriously think that I am suffering from the Samson Syndrome. I cut off my hair and haven’t had one witty one-liner or interesting thought since. This became incredibly obvious on Sunday afternoon when Frank and I attended our friends' baby shower. They’d set up a video camera and asked each guest to offer their soon-to-be-born son some words of wisdom. When it was my turn, I panicked and flashed back to a similar situation at my 15-Year High School Reunion when a classmate turned a camera on me and said, “So, Donna, what would you like to say to the Class of ’86?” Instead of giving some charming remembrance or pithy perspective, I went into a bad imitation of that sadistic game show host and said, “You are the weakest link, good-bye.” That’s it--“You are the weakest link, good-bye.” I cringe to think there is still footage out there of me being idiotically cliché’ with a bad British accent.
So, what advice did I offer this lucky child? I went into some babbling story about my first memory being of these rainbow tennis shoes, and falling down and getting up and it all being a metaphor for life…basically a bunch of boring bullshit.
Frank advised the kid not to ever rollerblade, and then busted out the one joke that he has ever told that actually made me laugh.
“Why didn’t Hitler drink? ... Because it made him mean.”
I don’t know that it was appropriate, but it was at least amusing.
With everything but a tampon having a video camera in it these days, I have the feeling that requests for impromptu film appearances are going to become more and more common at weddings, showers, birthdays, and any random gathering that someone wants to make sentimental. So, I’m determined to come up with a pearl to toss out to family, friends, and swine alike…something cryptic using weird words and alliteration with a dramatic ending. So far, this is what I’ve got: When in doubt slather it in local honey. Polka music paves the path to enlightenment. Never eat candy corn when the moon is in Capricorn. Salmagundi. Salman Rushdie. Girls just want to have fun. If you put your nose to the grindstone, it’ll rip it off. Shooka mooka. HOOOOWWWWLLL.
Obviously, it needs work.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.