You know what? I’m tired of being me today. What with the menopausal hormone imbalances, a thyroid the size of a walnut on steroids and the odd electric sensation that rips through my brain from time to time leaving me all dizzy and weird, I’ve decided to kiss the tired and aching Sher good-bye and get in touch with my inner child…Sherri Lynn.
Tomorrow I’m leaving the heels at home and wearing shoes with laces. Laces I will double knot and to which I will attach a bell. Or a bow. Or something else entirely festive. Maybe even a multicolored pom-pom made of yarn.
I will not wear a bra tomorrow. (No…you cannot know where I work.) Instead I will wear a shirt with kitty cats and unicorns that will match my Garanimals purple pants with elastic around the waist. I’ll constantly point to my chest and say, “Look at my pretty kitties”.
When someone calls me and attempts to suck me into the grown up world of business, I will distract them by saying, “Hey… hey… hey! Wanna know what I can do? Wanna know what I can do? I can say my numbers all the way up to ten without messing up!”
And should someone come into my office and sit down at my desk to talk about contracts and addendums and other equally grown up and wholly mind-numbing words, I will spin around and around in my chair until I get sick and throw up.
If my secretary, who is young and as such, full of vim and vigor, tells me I have an appointment, I will dance around while grabbing my crotch until she lets me go potty… where I will stay for a crazy amount of time playing in the sink and soaking the entire bathroom in tap water. When eventually she comes to try to get me out, she will find the door locked and no amount of coaxing or promises of a new toy will get me to unlock it. Instead, she’ll hear me giggle and flush various and assorted bathroom items down the toilet.
I will not eat my vegetables, I will not mind my manners and I will not go to bed without a fight. I will pick up worms and old Band-Aids I find on the street and stuff them in my pocket and when told to wash my hands, I will run them under the water and not use any soap at all.
There will be plenty of public nose picking, tons of kid cussing (like “poop head” and “stupid head” and “booger head”) and if I have time and I can get Mr. Man to drive, I will hold my hand out the window of the car just to see if it really will fly off.
It’s gonna be sweet. You should try it, too! Let’s all turn back the clock tomorrow, OK? It’ll be a movement. It’ll sweep the country. It’ll make the news…but we’ll never know ‘cause we’ll be watching those brainwashing commies otherwise known as the Wiggles.
I’m getting too excited. I’d better stop writing and go potty before I have an accident.
Send me an email(firstname.lastname@example.org)and tell me what you’re going to do to turn back your own clock and I’ll do what I always do with your emails… I’ll publish them here and then make fun of you for writing. (In love… I do it in love people.)
Take a Trip Around the Sun. Good stuff.
Copyright © 2004-2006, Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Tell me you love me at: HumorWriter@gmail.com
Tell me you hate me at: Yeah. I'm so sure I'm going to make that easy for you.
Visit Ms. Crazy On Her Face Online