My wife felt like she would be cool and use the word flabbergasted. Then she asked me what the definition was. “It sounds like someone’s personal problem,” she said. And it does. Just imagine someone saying, “He he, ‘scuse me, I flabbergasted.” Or, “I can’t eat that. It gives me flabbergastion.” I can see someone calling in to work: “I have a flabbergasture of 73.9 and I think it’s contagious because my wife is looking awful flabberghastly.”
Most addictions are at least somewhat understandable. You always hear about drug and alcohol addictions, and there’s always activists and help groups for each. Stuff messes with your brain, I can understand that.
There are, however, some addictions that I don’t understand. In my mind, coffee is one of the worst addictions of all. Pretty much everyone is addicted to the stuff, and no one even cares. There are no activists and no help groups, because it’s just normal to be addicted to coffee. It’s so bad that if the supply of coffee was suddenly cut off, like three quarters of the population would experience massive headaches and nausea from withdrawal. People might even become murderers and criminals. Who knows what people will resort to when they don’t have coffee to control them.
Another addict I don’t understand is my wife Donita. She’s been struggling with an addiction her whole life. I’ve tried to get her some help, but of course there are no helplines for this. My wife is addicted to eye boogers. Whenever she sees a gooey ball of matter in someone’s eye, she’s compelled to react with an “Oh! Oh! Can I get it??” And while she probably wouldn’t go through withdrawal, I’m just a little tired of having someone’s finger in my eye all the time.
There’s this fly buzzing around our apartment that just won’t die. He always narrowly escapes. He’s like the Jackie Chan of insects. I thought about bringing out the heavy artillery and obliterating the pest, but then that might look funny to declare war against an enemy the size of a booger. So we felt a little sorry for the little guy, and we considered adopting him as a pet. That only lasted until we remembered that we’re not allowed to have pets in our apartment. But that opens a whole nother can of larvae. We’ve gotta get that thing out of here before somebody finds out. War it is.
If I were a genius, I would design a credit card with no rewards, an account set up fee of $29, a program fee of $95, an annual fee of $48, and a monthly servicing fee of $84. Then I would booger glue a fake credit card onto the paper, call it “WaMu” for whatever reason, and send it to a geek named Josh. That way he would write about it on his blog and my card would be famous.
The cool part about my job is that pretty much everyone thinks they can do my job better than I can. That makes my job a boat load easier because then all I have to do is move my mouse to wherever they touch my screen with their fingers. This frees up my mind to think about my happy place, or what I should have for lunch.