If you’ve run out of things to be angry about, just imagine you’re at the laundromat and right after you pour the soap in, some idiot walks up like, “Sorry, but all the machines are reserved for a laundry competition.”
"What!? But I just put the goddamn soap in!"
"I’m really sorry."
And so you think, “To hell with the competition!” and you shove the money in anyways. The nerve of this guy!
He walks away only to return seconds later with the person in charge of the laundry competition, who also happens to be a cop.
"You can take your laundry out or I can arrest you," says the cop. "Your choice."
So you obey, of course. Is there really another choice? With the cop watching, you reach both arms into the dark, soapy well and begin the slow process of retrieving your clothes. One by one, you wring the garments out then toss them into your laundry basket where they land with a splat.
Of course none of this happened, but just thinking about it makes me madder than hell.
"Then don’t think about it," said my wife Diane.
"But it’s so STUPID, Diane! Who in the hell has even heard of a goddamned laundry competition!?"
"Nobody. Because they don’t exist, remember?"
"I know, but if they did can you even imagine how stupid they would be?"
After a week or so, Kris Jenner should run a contest where she pays a surprise visit to her #1 viewer - solely for that wonderful moment when she walks into a home to discover a corpse in the advanced stages of decay, slouched over in a recliner and facing a jabbering television set.
The point of renting the letterman’s jacket was so that he could race over to the art store, barge in and say, “More like FART store!” but the paperwork at the costume shop took forever because of their policy on deposits so by the time he actually got to the stupid art store, it was closed.
"Excuse me," he said to a nearby vagrant. "Do you know if there are any stores around here with a title that rhymes with something lewd or off-putting?"
The vagrant furrowed his sunburnt brow.
"There’s a place around the corner that sells hand-sewn afghans. I guess if you’re in a pinch you could run in there and yell something about ASS-ghans.”
That’ll do! Thanks, Mr. Vagrant!
But what about a dance music song for people who got to the club a little later than they’d hoped and have already determined that realistically, it’s probably more about tomorrow night than tonight?
And maybe tonight is really more about learning the layout of the club and asking about things like drink specials and the club’s policy on traveler’s checks. After all, we have the timeshare until Monday and if we call about that late checkout, then I don’t see why tomorrow night can’t be the best night of our lives.
I’ve always wanted to host one of those round table discussions about finance where I start off all nice and then as it goes on, I get angrier and angrier until finally I pull out a hacksaw and start sawing the table into a rectangle so that I can be at the head of it, but then one of the guys questions the dimensions of the new table, alleging that I’m in fact, NOT seated at the true head of it. He’s right and I’m so ashamed that I try to manually remove the man from his seat by grabbing low on the chair legs and tipping it, but the man is so heavy that I can only struggle while my face rubs awkwardly against his doughy stomach, which, after a while, un-tucks his dress shirt. The whole thing ends with the other panelists hammering me into submission with closed fists.
These Things Take Time, a short film based on a blog post by Tom Oatmeal.
Check it out.
Thanks so much to Chuck McCarthy and his crew for bringing this to life! Chuck, if you ever need a bad actor to play a background person, surly landlord, rookie construction worker, or a corpse - I’d be honored.
Tom Oatmeal in front of his family home.
We’re starting a band and my stepdad Glenn is not invited! I don’t care if he played guitar during a 17-year run as a successful and innovative touring musician! He’s not my real dad and he’s not playing in my band!!!
Thanks for the album cover, Chuck McCarthy!
I was loitering all right, but when the cop asked me about it I said no way.
"I’m just a door-to-door salesman," I lied. "I sell Jacuzzis."
"Do you install them, too?"
"I sure do."
The cop then followed me into the liquor store and planted himself by the door; watching as I launched into an improvised sales pitch to the old man behind the register. I described the different shapes and styles of Jacuzzis as well as the various price ranges. I told him what was popular and what the options were with water jets.
"I think I like the one with just the two jets," said the old man.
"Oh come on, man - two jets?!," I shook my head, disappointed. "If you really only want two jets you may as well just run over to the hardware store and get yourself one of those little pans you soak your feet in."
The old man laughed nervously.
"I should really talk to my wife…"
I rolled my eyes. ”Wow. You run every little decision by your wife first?”
"Fine," he said firmly. “I’ll take the one with ten jets.”
I grinned and patted him hard on the shoulder.
"That’s what I’m talking about!"
About a week later, with the cop watching everything, I had managed to dig a pretty respectable-sized hole in the floor of the liquor store, but the work was hard and it was difficult for me to envision how to build functional water jets.
"Okay," I said to the cop. "You win. I was loitering.”
Last Sunday, Jen and I shot a short film called These Things Take Time, based on a post by Tom Oatmeal. I don’t know if we will be sending it to Cannes or posting it on my YouTube page along with all my other masterpieces.
This is a still from it.
Yes! I’m so bummed I missed out on this shoot, but can’t wait to see how it turns out. Thanks Chuck!