In My Own Little World: Funny story to always make you laugh
So I was going to write this sentimental column about graduation.
I was going to write about new responsibilities and a brand new horizon out there just waiting to be explored.
I was going to tell a funny anecdote about my experience at the “Grad Fair,” and how it’s really just a setup to make you buy a bazillion dollars’ worth of stuff you don’t need, and how I got shocked twice in a row giving my OneCard to this girl, all to have some guy slip a thing on me for exactly 2.3 seconds (I timed it) and yell out some numbers and then send me to the cash register to give all my money away.
I was going to make some points about the future, the past, and growing up in general, and then end with a heartfelt plea to the next generation of students to keep the torch burning (or whatever metaphor you fancy) here at Towson.
I was going to do all those things, but then I got bored listening to my own thoughts trying to be all serious and whatnot, and so I’ve decided to tell you the funniest thing that’s ever happened.
You know how some people will tell you stories and say “Oh, you should have been there, it was the funniest thing…” Well all of them are liars, and you should unfriend them on Facebook. I know this because I was personally a witness to the funniest thing, and I lived to tell about it.
Now in order to fully grasp this story, you need to understand that there are certain men in this world who feel the inexplicable need to show that their trucks are just as manly as they are, (which is questionable in the first place), and they do this by giving their trucks, through some sort of surgery I’ve never been witness to, a certain anatomical feature, let’s call it a “couple of egg timers.”
I am not the type of man who finds his security in this type of modification, mind you, and I’m not even the type of man who knows very much about cars or owns the type of car that makes all the ladies swoon on sight. (Which, if there is such a car, would be worth looking in my opinion.)
Anyway, this story starts with me getting stuck behind one of these men who give their trucks a reverse neutering, and ends with the first ever on-road mid-drive castration that the world has probably ever seen, and may ever see again.
Now that last sentence may have startled you, but let me explain. I was behind this truck, on my way to Towson, thinking to myself what a tool-bag this guy in front of me was for trotting out his manhood all up on his bumper, when all of the sudden I noticed that the, ahem, Bojangles, were, for lack of a better term, jiggling quite a bit. As we came to a curve, it was quite clear that these nuggets were hanging on for dear life, and all it took was one bump before the, ahem, lug nuts were dislodged and bouncing down the road toward me.
It was at this time that I experienced the strangest combination of pure terror, not wanting to be hit by the “debris,” and pure elation, having been witness to a true triumph of all that is good and right in the world.
I honestly didn’t stop laughing all the rest of the way to Towson, and probably worried some of my professors with inappropriate laughter during a lecture on the assassination of Julius Caesar or some such somber topic.
In fact, even now, whenever I need a pick me up, I tell that story over to myself and send myself into hysterical laughter. I hope that it can do the same for you.
In fact, maybe that’s the point. Whatever you’re going through, it can’t be as bad as a truck losing its family jewels all over the highway. Or maybe there isn’t a point, and I just needed a laugh today.
Either way, the random thought of the week is this: How is it that in “Rock, Paper, Scissors,” paper beats rock, but when I’m being attacked by a guy with a rock, my loose-leaf doesn’t even faze him? That game sets some unrealistic expectations about the real world.
Don’t be fooled, party people.