I don't really think of myself as being all that funny.
Actually, let me rephrase that.
I think I'm hilarious because I'm, you know, the Management here in my so-called mind. My expectations are, therefore, low. And being my own audience... well, I knock myself dead every night.
Yessireee, it's SRO here in Deborah's head - I'll be here every night of the week for the rest of my life!My mom thinks I'm hysterical. But she's, like, my mom. She has to think I'm funny. It's in her contract.
What amazes me is that anybody else finds me funny - which I know is true for at least a few of you because I've received emails asking me why don't I write a book or be a comedian. (For the record, I was a comedian. It's called Teaching Public Speaking To College Students Who Would Rather Be Hit By A Bus Than Be In A Speech Class. Believe me - you have to make 'em laugh or they'd start fighting over who gets to lie down in the middle of the road first.)
I've recently been emailing Janet Wilson in a flurry of quips over the August CCC card I made for her (and which I sent at a scandalously late date). She has just suggested I need to go on TV - which is what prompted this post.
I wrote her back.
I suspect I'd be like that frog the workman discovers in a box beneath
the building (in that one Loony Toons cartoon). When nobody's looking,
I'd be singing and grinning and kicking my little froggy legs like a
Rockette, but as soon as somebody put me on the stage, I'd be about as
animated as a cow patty - all to the accompaniment of a lone cricket....
I then went on to tell her that I'm absolutely unnerved at the prospect of actually meeting any of my blog readers in person at a CHA or ScrapFest, etc. I'm positive I'd open up my mouth and something like, "How 'bout them Mets?" would come out.
I don't even watch the Mets.
And what the heck does Mets stand for, anyway? And what do you call a single player - a Met?
A Met with a mitt?
A Met I haven't met... yet?
(I'm enjoying myself a lot right now but that's because I'm A Nut - as opposed to being A Met.)
I have just looked it up. Mets is short for Metropolitans. What kind of a name is that for a baseball team? Metropolitan elicits images of a posh blueblood wearing a tuxedo and sipping a Manhattan - not a tobacco-chewing, muscle-bound guy crouched and ready to club a fastball to death....But I digress.
My point is... I don't even remember my point. In reality, this is about how interesting I am - I can't even remember what I was talking about! Now that's a bore. So perhaps this little accident is a good thing.
I just want all of you to be prepared for it.
My being as exciting as tapioca, I mean.
If we ever meet, that is.