I mean, really friends o’mine. You’re starting to give me mini-panic attacks every time you text me saying, “Hey, let’s have lunch? I have stuff to tell you.” Say any one of these things and you could gun for a gig headlining any Vegas casino as the Magician Who Turned Adults into Children – and Adults! – Simultaneously. (Yeah, not a catchy title, we’ll work on it before opening night though.)
Tell me you’re getting married. Holy shizballs, kids. My mother still calls me to remind me to eat at least one rectangular (if not full-on square) meal a day. You’re getting married? Like, legally? With a religious clergy or otherwise ordained person? (Oh, hey, remember how I’m ordained? In all 50 states. I’ll work for cheap.) I’m going to go open my futon up to put a little extra kick in my sleep tonight.
Tell me you’re (trying to get) knocked up. You know, on purpose. You aren’t using condoms. You’re saving ten bucks a month by never refilling that prescription to Ortho Tri Cyclen Lo. Do you have any idea how bizarre it is to go from one bar stool conversation, “Oh thank you, God. False alarm.” to “Oh, I think we might try hormone shots next month!” Of course you do
n’t. They were both with you.
Tell me you’re getting yourself a new pair of Divorce Boobs. And I thought getting married at 24 was jumping the gun. Divorce Boobs by 25 has got to be a record. When you’re turning your chest into bouncy balls, are you trying to attract an older or younger man? Have fun with your plastic tatas, I guess.
What are your friends terrifying you with?