Letters I Wrote To Myself When I Was Single
Chair dancing is an underrated skill. It takes a certain amount of je ne sais quoi, which translates (not literally mind you) to balance, to dance while typing. That sentence made no sense.
Take 2. Chair dancing while typing is hard.
It is a skill that I like to practice. I try not to laugh too hard while doing it. Apparently you look a little crazy if you’re chair dancing, typing, and laughing.
You look less crazy if you are chair dancing and typing. You look even less crazy if you are chair dancing and laughing. You look less crazy still if you are laughing, but only if you have headphones in or are talking to someone, and not an imaginary someone, but an actual live person that other people can see. You look actually normal if you are simply typing with or without headphones.
Fuck it. I’m just going to look crazy because I am not going to stop laughing, typing, or chair dancing.
Flying under the radar is not a skill that I possess. I guess it’s safe to say that I could never be an assassin, I draw too much attention to myself. Not that I ever wanted to be an assassin, although it would be pretty cool to answer the question, “what do you do” with “I’m an assassin.” The awkward half laughs. The random smiling frowns. The questioning looks. It might be enough to make me consider a new career change, minus the whole killing a person aspect. Could I be an assassin of say flies or mosquitoes?
The girl next to me definitely thinks I’m crazy. Little does she know that I’m considering ordering business cards entitled “The Improbable Jones, Fly & Mosquito Assassin For Hire.”
I bet she’s wondering why she decided to do her work in this particular eatery. She’s trying to sort out the right SEO tactic and here I am, a chair dancing, typing, laughing, and completely distracting individual. The worst part? She’s doing it wrong. She’s focusing solely on a keyword driven campaign, but joke’s on her because keywords are dead motherfucker. You can’t overload that shit, it’s the number one way to be labelled as a spam site.
It’s not my fault I’m swearing, I’m listening to a horrible Pitbull song. If you didn’t already question my sanity from the chair dancing comments, you are probably wondering why you are still reading. Why are you? Wait, don’t think about that question too hard, you might realize that this is either brilliant or an entire waste of your time. It’s a toss up really.
And that’s all she wrote.
The Improbable Jones