May 29th 2013
I have no idea what the fuck you just said.
And I’m sorry.
Sort of sorry.
If you’re thinking to yourself “Cool, asshole, why didnt’ you listen to a DAMN THING I just said?!”
Have I got some mediocre excuses for YOU!
Olive and Nicole Detamble present:
5 Reasons I Probably Didn’t Hear What You Just Said
1. Doodle fucking my notes
You’re in class
No no, you’re in a meeting
Idk you’re somewhere
THE POINT IS
Wherever the fuck you are there’s a pen and paper involved and you, my friend are looking occupied and ponderous as FUCK.
Think I’m jotting down today’s date?
That clever quote you just relayed?
THAT POWERPOINT slide’s most KICK ASS bullet point?
Bitch got a mustache:
My cliff notes on Bobby’s presentation on llama feed
An epiphany that hit me midway through Susan’s heated argument about the overuse of paper in the office
In case you doubted that I could draw a pickle with stars on it:
What am I going to do about our decrease in sales this May?
Fucking gymnastics ALL OVER THAT SHIT.
What’s been weighing on my mind lately?
What does this meeting feel like in relation to pie?
(P.S. 97% Of these drawings are Olive and Nicole Detamble originals.)
2. Mind snackin
Thing is, I really do care about your hat, your dog and the latest episode of hoarders.
Except that I don’t.
Only because 3 sentences ago you said pizza. And somehow expected me to zone the fuck back in!
I’M NO SUPER HERO.
Suddenly I went from smiling and nodding like this:
And at the sudden stroke of the word Pizza am all like this:
That cheese pouring over the butter baked crust.
THAT SAUCE simmering atop that freshly baked dough.
delicately sprinkled amongst that cheesy layer of heaven dispersing an aroma so beautifully baked with JUST the right amount of garlic.
Yeah See? You’re not listening either.
3. Being self-conscious
I just had a bagel..
A fucking POPPY seed bagel.
(An ill-advised social snack of choice)
Ain’t no mirror in site.
AIN’T NO close friend nearby to discreetly give me a casual look tell me I have shit in my teeth.
And with every piece of gossip spillin out of your mouth, I’m hoping a poppy-seed won’t fall out of mine.
NOT ONLY THAT.
But I’m also sweating. LIKE A FOOL. Because Dennis cranked up the heat UP IN HERE and now it’s hott as BALLS in this motherfucker.
And now I can’t help but wonder if you notice my fucked up smile, my largely unwelcomed pit stains, my MOST RECENT break out.
ALL OF THAT SHIT.
Eventually you’re going to walk away and I’m going to sprint to the nearest reflective object to confirm my dashing good looks. Then rekindle conversation casually starting with the line:
4. Decoding lyrics
There’s a song stuck in my head.
Specifically by the Ying Yang twins.
And as you’re sitting there breaking down your latest updates on the health benefits of Kale and raisins, I’m trying to figure out what the FUCK Ying just said at the goddamn hook of this song!
See, now did he say:
Bitch you gotta shake it till ya calf muscles hurt?
Bitch you gotta make it I want a bag of ruffles, Kurt?
And did Yang say?:
Put your the heels on your feet or the strap around your ankle and then go ahead, and call that bitch bojangles!
Put your seal on that leaf and strap it down with shankles and then go ahead, and call that bitch Tom Wankles?
Once I de-riddle this poetry. We can pound some Kale and raisins, I promise.
5. Concocting my escape route
Every once in a great while, specifically Mondays, Wednesdays and anytime you’re snackin pretty hard, you may find yourself stuck in a conversational vortex with a chatty cathy that overshares, underdresses, and talks in so many goddamn circles you could feed about 16 countries with their overflow of complete nonsense.
There you are.
Smiling and nodding.
Dreaming of pizza.
And trying to devise a plan where you can discreetly do this:
But I shan’t do that.
I’m going to pretend to make intense eye contact with a somewhat familiar lad from across the room in order to pardon myself.
Perhaps, excuse myself to go to the lady chambers.
Or more likely just look at you like this until you back the FUCK…away.
Good god, Cathy.
You’re still here.
And there you have it. The 5 things I’m probably doing instead of paying attention to a damn thing you just said. How can you tell? If I’m listening to your woes? Or dreaming about pizza? If you ask me what I think about what you just said, and I attempt a relatively ambiguous face like this .
Sort of sorry.