I Appreciate the Advice

After last weeks episode, Kim felt that I should 'see' someone.  She found a psychiatrist on Craig's List who, she said, seemed very wise.

I don't like it. At all. The doc kept staring at me. In our first session she mentioned that maybe there where other motives behind my recent hijinks and that maybe they are not as funny to other people as they are to me.

I told her that if you don't like my sense of humor, please tell me...so I can laugh at you.  She didn't even blink at that one. Hey, I tried.

She gave me advice on how to deal with my job. She gave me some advice on dealing with my internal turmoil and she gave me advice on how to redirect some of my behavior.

I appreciate the advice, but what I really need right now is minions.

Did I mention that you can follow me? It's easy. Just push the little button over there, to the right. You know you want to. Do it. Do it now. Just do it...that's right, move your mouse and click.

Tom Foolery

I had to do it.

There was such an ostentatious display of Kim's picture everywhere. Needless to say Kim's 'awesome' sense of humor evaporated pretty quickly when she saw this.

Just because I don't look like Ashton Kutcher I can't punk someone? What's wrong with a little bit of tom foolery? A smidge of shenanigans? Nothing. But she said that this prank carried malicious undertones.

What does she know? And what do I do now with the whoopie cushion, hot gum and hand buzzer?

(Notice also my levitation skills. It was those very skills that led to the loss of my right eye.)

Yes Man

Last week we were home for a few days and Kim told me that I would be working in the office for a couple of hours. I don't mind doing office work, even though I do feel it is a waste of my personality, but I do mind working with the other guy she has in there.

Hey, I'm a team player just like anyone. Move my cheese, positive thinking, influencing people stuff? Love it. But at some point you have to put your foot down. This guy is just too much.

No opinion. No point of view. All day, just agreeing with anything she says. Makes me look bad.

I hate yes men.

My Guilty Pleasure

It lurks in the dark hallways of the local mall, on the sidewalk at the corner store, in the food court next to Taco Land, and near the bathrooms at the movie theater.  Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I see the blinking lights and hear the sound of the bell and I instinctively start searching, hoping to find a quarter. Just. One. Quarter.

The coin drops and it's activated. For one glorious moment I am transported. I am no longer a fingerless, one eyed, pink, ugly monster, created to serve at Kim's beck and call.  I am a race car driver, a cowboy, a school bus driver, the whole world is my carnival!! I throw my head back and howl at the moon (or at the florescent, flickering Pretzel Hut sign).

How is it that a simple driving mechanism hidden under a vacuum formed plastic cover can do this to me?

My guilty pleasure.