Webbed feet and alien fungus....

I would like to formerly take the time to thank the universe for choosing me to laugh at. Yes, sometimes I feel like I am a recurring character acting infinitely on some mediocre sketch comedy show! Or perhaps being filmed for episodes of Punk'd'?

You know, come to think of it, ever since me and Ashton had our fling (and I finally accepted the fact that he has webbed toes), I have felt like that.

Not actually Ashton's feet

And although Ashton explained the whole marrying Demi thing as "wanting to find someone who came somewhat close to my beauty", I still have my doubts he has found it in her.

But this post is not about that.

Lately I have been involved with many things. Reality has decided that it is the shoe, and I am the piece of gum stuck on the bottom of it, right next to the dog crap (at least I'm not the dog crap). But, both of us, dog crap and gum, get pried out of the crevices of shoes with sticks or scraped off coldly on dewy wisps of grass and concrete steps. And since I am gum, I am a little bit flexible and stretchy when this happens, a quality that is helpful when things change everyday!!

I have had a few interviews and have taken every one seriously as a learning experience, even if the job does not work out. Lately there has been an interview for a "commission only" sales position. I am worried about a job like that because I am the only source of income in the house and the economy is still weak. I have faith in my selling abilities, but to not have any base pay in the situation I am in, petrifies me. Still, I had aced all of their tests and they wanted to see me in person. I dolled up and went in.

Before leaving the car I slapped myself in the face a few times to put the fear of failure in my heart. Plus, I feel natural blush looks fantastic and a nice slapping works well for that.

I go in and begin the interview with a nice young lady.

This is when the comedy sketch starts. Being a very visual person is tough sometimes. I remember being in school and daydreaming through a whole class simply because the person in front of me had a knotted up "rat" in her hair. My imagination questions things like that and I start diving off the deep end of sanity.

I think things like:

...if she were in a monkey society, she would be groomed everyday and this would never happen, also she would not have bugs, I wonder if she has bugs. But maybe, she IS in fact IN a monkey society, and it could be possible that she is the out-casted monkey of the group because her feet stink or she ate too many bananas at one time (that would be serious enough for monkey society abolishing, I suppose).

Then I realize that I have drifted off and missed all of the notes I need for the next day's test. When the the bell rings, in irony, I have to address monkey-girl, (who is fully prepared with precise notes because she is obviously the "organizational" monkey of the tribe), to be the one I beg (in the monkey language of "grooming") to let me copy her notes.

Strange to you right? Welcome to my normal.

So as I went in for the interview, I prayed everything would be in order and I could focus. But a few moments in, I notice it. I can't stop looking at it. A medium sized snitzel (dry booger hanging loosely from the roof of a nostril) was in her right nostril. It was flapping in and out at me with every breath she took. Before long, I am struggling to be engaged.

I think:

...if she were a smoker, and standing on a mountain, wearing an ornate feathered head piece, what smoke signals would her nose be giving with each breath? "The British are coming, The British are coming", no wait, that's not what an Indian would say at all! I try and refocus.

And then I think:

...maybe no signal would be given, because she looks like a mouth breather, she would emit rings, because if I smoked I would definitely emit rings because they are more festive, and I am not really even sure what a mouth breather looks like I just heard the word used in a Political smeary campaign commercial, I suppose one COULD look like her.

Oh, she just asked me a question.. ahem

"Uh, yes ma'am, that's right 21 years in sales and marketing, I love being able to work with people in my community! I did research about your company and the many accomplishments it has been recognized for, I am interested in knowing more about your products, I would love to take some brochures and literature with me if I may."

She is now thrown off track a bit.

The snitzel is still in prime position and I begin to feel like it may be something similar to a Morse code.

I think:

...her snitzel must be releasing valuable information to me about UFO's and such. Certainly, if I were an alien, I would find unique ways to transmit my vital messages to inhabitants of the planet I plan on overtaking. Why not a snitzel transmission? I would, however, have to really gather myself to actually receive this message because the "vehicle human" they have chosen to give the transmission wants to thwart my deciphering efforts and talk about business matters.

The world may just be doomed

Oh, she wants to bring me in to meet another manager, a man-a-ger (I stifle a laugh at my stupid joke), for more of an interview. This is great, I can be assured the visual defect of my brain will be cleared now. I follow her to his office that is heavily clad in cheap wood paneling (which brings back a memory of a huge ass splinter I got from paneling just like that as a kid, my eyes start to water).

There are two fungus green chairs (with suspicious "stains" in the middle of the seat, the origin of the stains are clearly metaphysical manifestations of single celled organisms sent to reproduce from the aliens). The gentleman seems nice enough, as I shake his hand and sit in an alien baby stained fungus chair, the snitzel leaves and me and the man-a-ger resume conversation.

I notice two things.

1. His shirt is unbuttoned one button to far and the gold chain and pendant he is sporting is tangled in black chest hair.
2. He had some sort of leafy green vegetable for lunch and has not looked in the mirror since.

It is at this point I realize: I could sit there all day and never hear one word this poor man is saying.

Again, if he were part of a monkey society, his chest hairs would be groomed and this might not have happened to me. Furthermore, I don't think monkeys eat leafy green vegetables, perhaps it is a clever alien camera filming me for a special episode of:

"Punk'd, Alien's Invade Earth Edition"

End of comedy sketch.

{{{{{facepalm}}}}}}

I am doomed.