I Got Nothin’

Well, as I write this on Wednesday, May 1, it is currently snowing. AGAIN. And my feet are cold. AGAIN.  I remember making May Day baskets in grade school and placing them on the doorknobs of houses near the school. I don’t remember there being snow (or even the threat of snow) ever. But my memory’s a little dusting. I mean dusty. Rusty!*

On the bus ride home, the woman sitting next to me was sucking her thumb. The entire ride. Apparently, she had no other way to cope with the cold and snow. Seriously. The high was at 12:05. AM. I’d have said something to her, but she also had a leather jacket, piercings, and a neck tattoo. My friend said she must be the lead singer of her band, Thumbsuckers, and I said she’s the Joan Jett of self-soothers.**

It’s hard to believe, but my first improv performance is next week. Crazy, I know. So far I’ve been: a dentist (twice), a turtle, a pigeon, a Magic Fingers bed, a twin, a wrestler-in-training, an overly involved parent, a socially awkward overly involved parent, a teenager, a grade-schooler, a vampire, a cowboy, Dolly Parton’s underboob,*** a starving dieter, a bomb squad leader, someone repairing the hull of a ship, a pet owner whose dogs were in therapy, a therapist, someone in dance therapy, a girl getting ready for a dance, a dancing waitress, a dancing cheerleader––can you tell I like dancing?––a drill sergeant, and lots of other characters. It’s so much fun.

Speaking of characters, I came up with a character the other day that I’d like to develop into a sketch: Gingko Balboa,**** Rocky Balboa’s much more chill brother. Gingko does yoga and drinks lots of green tea. He also has a photographic memory, which is good, because after several punches to the head Rocky can’t remember anything.

I was trying to look something else up but Google’s auto-search function led me to “How many women has Wilt Chamberlain slept with”****** and I question the plausibility of his 20,000 women claim. Let’s set aside simple math for a second and the complete grossness-factor of even a tenth of that number, do we really believe the sexual prowess of a man whose name is a synonym for, um, how do I put this…droop? Think about it.

Sorry the post is a little light this week. But I’ll leave you with this video. I dare you to watch it and not laugh. 26 seconds in is where I lose it. And the best part? He’s ripping up a rejection letter. Oh, if only I had an 8-month old for when I start ramping up my journal submissions this summer.

By this time next week, I will be a performer. Whoo hoo!

*Who decided memory rusts? Or does that come from the “mind like a steel trap” phrase? Anyone? Bueller?

**Forsoothe!*****

***Yes, you read that right.

****It’s supposed to be gingko biloba. Get it?

*****Sorry, terrible Shakespeare joke.

******Also, James Bond, Don Draper, and Lil’ Wayne. Gross.

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About Sarah in Small Doses

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