Drunken Stupor Stupid Sober (Say That Ten Times Fast)

I’ve often mentioned that I get stupid when I’m tired. I’m not talking your normal thirty point IQ drop of shits and oblivious giggles. I’m talking like drunken stupor stupid. I don’t drink. I laugh at people who get drunken stupor stupid. But it is, in fact, what happens to me when I become a certain amount of tired. And the kicker? I'm totally sober. I'm always totally sober.

Of course, I never go to bed when I’m drunken stupor stupid. There’s two reasons for that. One, when I’m drunken stupor stupid, it’s a fake tired where my body is just defying me because it can. And two, when I’m actually I-can-get-some-sleep tired, I just fall asleep and skip drunken stupor stupid. So really, drunken stupor stupid is just a lie, a facade making me think I'm tired when I'm really just stupid, because I’m not actually tired. I’m just in a drunken stupor minus the drinking. No, that doesn’t make sense to me either.

One of my favorite things about being this kind of tired is that I end up writing some of my best material. I have an off color sense of humor to begin with, but it just comes pouring out in youthful abandonment until I end up in a pile of giggles on the floor, with Greta fleeing the room because she thinks I’ve permanently misplaces my marbles. She's probably right.

The reason I like to call this kind of tired a drunken stupor stupid is because I just lose all sense of what I should and should not say. I’m like Sophia from The Golden Girls, only I get way less sex, and by way less, I mean none ever. Ever. My inhibitions just shut down and I say whatever I want. It’s a good thing I’m not out in public when this happens or I’d end up beat up by some hick at Walmart that was looking at “dem there dern purty petunias.” More about this later.

For some reason, around the same time of day that I get like this, my Australian friend finds herself online and we start talking about really ridiculous shit. The conversation always starts out with things such as, “how was your day?” or “what are you up to?” By the middle, lines like “I would become a hooker to come up with the money to see that shit,” are being thrown around like this is totally normal. By the end, we’re usually making fun of someone, and by someone, I totally mean ourselves. Having friends who understand your penchant for ridiculousness is priceless.

Somewhere in our conversation, we usually end up talking about Criminal Minds in one way or another. I don’t know how this happens, but I don’t think it’s ever not happened. Usually the conversation revolves around MGG in some way, then how sad and pathetic we are that we spend our nights discussing our favorite television show, which is probably how we get to the end of the conversation where we make fun of ourselves.

Today’s conversation, however, was extra special. Normally I laugh at our conversations and go on with my life, but tonight, while we were having the conversation, I immediately knew it was getting its own blog post. So many ridiculous things were said, mostly by me, while my friend stood by and wondered who she should call about getting me medicated, that I knew this was the material blogs were made of. Well, at least my blog. Normal people would probably keep this as far away from their blog as possible.

As I am going through the conversation to properly map out how the ridiculous things that were said came about, I happened to back up too far in the conversation and find Matthew Gray Gubler “singing” The Golden Girls theme song. Look, how the conversation got to that, I don’t even know. There’s never an excuse for that. Ever. And there’s totally a reason I put quotation marks around singing. But hey, if the guy who voices Kermit the Frog ever retires, Matthew is a shoe in.

First let me start with the lines in the conversation that I found only by going up too far, and now I don’t want to read the whole conversation to figure out what or who I was talking about.

* I really have no life. He’s adorable and I have no life.

This very true statement could go to so many things that it’s not worth even trying to decipher. I’ll let you all go ahead and make the most inane reference to this that you possibly can and encourage you to stick with it. It’s probably right.

* Oh God, yes, a date. I need. Now.

Let’s forget about how that whole piece was a sham of the English language. Let’s just land on how true it is. Obviously.

* That whole “I'm waiting” thing sounded pushy. I don’t mean to be a pushy bitch.

If you have to apologize for it...

* I think that would be adorable, but you have to deal with how they found him, because he basically disappeared.

This was a round about reference to Former SSA Jason Gideon on Criminal Minds, but you kind of wish I wouldn’t have clarified that, don’t you?

* Btw, this has nothing to do with anything, but I'm watching Sugarland videos and YouTube suggested Rihanna for me from that. How does that happen?

I’m sure it was totally necessary for me to explain to her that me talking about Sugarland and Rihanna in the middle of discussing her story line had nothing to do with anything. I don’t know who fails worse here, me or YouTube.

* I am here to bounce opinions and ideas off of :)!

This seems like such an empty promise. Things don’t bounce in desolate, hollow space like my mind.

* And not the good kind of hard, the bad kind of hard.

Thank you, Brendon Urie, for the reference that will not die. There will forever be a good and bad kind of everything inappropriate sounding, whether it makes sense or not. Actually, only when it doesn’t make sense.

* I would offer to fly out there, but I think by the time I did, we’d be dangerously close to starvation.

There is Australia. This came about because I was hungry and she was hungry and somehow we thought it would be fun to go to lunch together. With me in Pa and her in Australia. Yeah, I know, guys. I know.

* And then, let's not forget that we'd have to find somewhere to eat. That's two hours of indecisiveness in itself. I mean, we are girls.

If there is that random guy reader out there who refuses to speak now and forever hold his peace, he’s going, “ah, they do know they do that.”

I’d also like Becky 1, who I am now going to call Original Becky, but should probably tell her that first so she knows I’m referring to her when I say that, that I casually use her word “anywhomaburger” all the time. It’s like the new black, which is now the new pink, which will probably be the new brown in the next week, and then the new orange two weeks later. I can’t keep up with these fashion trends.

Now, let’s get on to the good stuff that made me realize it had to become a blog in the first place. This conversation started innocently by talking about Mandy Patinkin. Even if you don’t think you know who he is, you do. He was the famed Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride. More notably, at least to me, who has no concept of what notably actually means to anything outside of shit I like, he was the aforementioned Former SSA Jason Gideon in Criminal Minds.

I really can not remember what made me Google Mandy Patinkin. It had nothing to do with our conversation, but something to do with something that I can’t remember a mere three hours later. It must have been important. However, when I did Google him, the following occurred. This was easily the most hysterical twenty minutes of my day.

* Also, I am completely loling. Did you know Mandy Patinkin has an, and I quote, "official concert site." I mean, what in the hell does that even mean, anyway? Official concert site my persqueeter.

I am also sorry to my little cousins, if you are reading this, that I used the word persqueeter twice. Please don’t Google that. Your dad will fly up here and kill me. I wouldn’t blame him, however, Roger would no longer be my favorite funny uncle anymore. He’d be the murderous uncle, and no one wants that. Plus, I don't think Aunt Lois could take her only normal son going to prison. Oh wait, Rawn is the normal one. Never mind. We're good.

After I sent the link to his site to my friend and we discussed it and her ridiculous dreams, she informed me of something I’m pretty sure my laughter gene has waited its whole life to hear.

* Oh and I just remembered that Mandy Patinkin is a tenor - he did some singing in the Elmo movie.

How do you just remember that? How do you forget that? This is Mandy Patinkin singing and hanging with Elmo, you guys. This is unforgettable, which I think I properly expressed in my response.

* Hold on...I have to process this.

Mandy Patinkin sang.in.the.ELMO.movie.

Why? How? Why?

I love Mandy.

I was still processing this when she sent me the video to it. Yes, there’s a video. Hark! Someone is loving me right now. There.Is.A.Video. God, I hate when people type like that.

Her answer to me asking, "Why? How? Why?," by the way?

* Cause he did.

Glad she knows how to handle me by now. She should get paid for this, really.

After I watched the video, and then giggled, and then watched it again, and then giggled some more, I found that I am still trying to process this right now. And giggling. And processing. I’ll probably be processing this and giggling next week. If I start acting like I’m on crack, rest assured that I have not done drugs once in my life and never will. I’m just watching Mandy Patinkin hang out with Elmo.

Gosh, could you imagine what would happen if I did drink or do drugs? It would probably go something like this:

- Three arrests
- Two jail stints
- One trip to a rehab center
- Becoming best friends with Lindsay Lohan
- An intervention ala A&E TV
- Four trips to a mental health center
- Officials finally realizing that I’m doing better drunk and drugged up than I do sober
- A state appointed execution so they can study what went wrong with my mind, and the people who have had to deal with me finally getting peace away from me.
- Attempted execution
- My refusal to die
- The people who have had to deal with me killing themselves instead

After I watched the Elmo / Mandy video, I readily admitted to my friend the extent of love I had for it, and for her for sending it.

* OMG! I love you for this. In fact, I may even be in love with you for this, and I'm not even a lesbian. This puppy is going all over my blog. I have no life.

Guys, I’m classy. I don’t go faux-love lesbian for just anyone. Only for videos of Mandy Patinkin in an Elmo movie.

This is the part where you’re thinking this blog can’t take a more bizarre turn. This is also the part where I laugh at you because you’re a reader of this blog, you know I’m full of all kinds of strange fun and humor, and are still wrong. Apparently, I had a crowning moment left in me. This moment was so crowning, in fact, that I didn’t even realize what I had wrote until I had sent it, and by then I was glad it was too late, because it was kind of funny and made for a good blog. And the conversation went exactly like this, so I knew that there are people out there that are the same kind of crazy fun that I am.

Oh, and close your eyes, little cousins. Just close your eyes. This part doesn't exist.

Me: I would pay money I don't have to see Mandy and Matthew sing together. Mandy's so good and Matthew is so...not good. I would become a hooker to come up with the money to see that shit.

Her: I am with you there.

Me: *High five* Everyone else would have thought I was nuts and walked away mumbling about how I must have gone off of some medication by now. Also, correct me if I'm wrong on this, but I thought Matthew played the guitar, which is what led me to think he was a good singer. Which he isn't. So I'm probably wrong about the guitar thing, too.

Her: lol. I have no idea if he does.

Me: I don't either. But now I'm scared, because he has no musicality. He just...he's not...it's bad. And if he plays a guitar, I'm concerned it will be equally out of key. On a good note, if the guy who voices Kermit the Frog dies, he could totally take over for the singing parts.

Her: lol. oh dear me. what will we do with ourselves.

Me: I don't know. I think we need dates

Her: Quite possibly.

Me: This year I'm dedicated to figuring out how I go about getting one, because I hate to say it, but I really don't know.

Her: don't worry i don't know either

Me: This bums me out a little. We can't live our whole lives single, can we?

Her: sure we can.

God bless her. And now I finally see how all of our conversations end in us making fun of ourselves. If we didn’t make fun of ourselves in jest, we’d cry. But good news, boys, we are single. You can have all this crazy for the price of a decent dinner and some conversation that we can talk / blog about so we can at least say we tried to date and have a life. We know you’ll be lining up...at someone else’s door, far, far away from us.

And we’d also like to apologize to Matthew. None of us will ever meet him, he will never see this blog, and this will never matter less than it does now, but you can’t sing, dude. We’re sorry we picked on you, though. You may not have musicality, but you’re cute. In our world, that counts for everything. In fact, our excuse for everything is, “but we’re cute.” It holds no weight, but you learn to live with it.

To round out our conversation, we steered away from laughing at Mandy and decided to leave poor Matthew alone, and somehow this came up. I’m not going to bother to explain it. It’s way less fun if I explain it. I’ll just let it speak for itself.

Her: Who knows. They'd be robots!

Me: They would. Robots who pooped money.

If you’re keeping track, there’s also no reason ever to say that. Ever.

Then, as with all good, self loathing, no-life conversations, I, of course, brought up the only quip I have left; crazy Craigslist lady. After presenting the facts, my gave me this response exactly.

* I have no idea how to respond to that.

Good, it’s not just me. Thank you and goodnight!

Craigslist lady turned into this.

Me: It seems like Craigslist is the only thing that works, but those people are crazy. Or, as we would say here in PA, "them damn peoples is crazy." No, seriously, that's how people talk around here.

Me: Some kid thought I was Lady Gaga one time at WalMart. This is the kind of special you deal with here.

Me Again: Wait, I take that back, it was his dad that thought I was Lady Gaga. It was the kid who clarified that I couldn't be, but it was for a really ridiculous reason. I have a blog post about this. Now I must find it.

Her (After I finally let her talk.): Do they not know what Lady Gaga looks like?

Me: Here? In Pa? We live amongst some very special people. I'm sure I just offended the word special. If you ever see the movie Run Ronnie Run, I'm pretty sure it was written by, and starring Pennsylvanians and is a true story about Pennsylvanians.

Guys, I’d like to leave you with some very, very important words. If ever traveling to Pennsylvania, just remember, it’s not a vacation, it’s an “adventure.” You can take the quotes in adventure to mean whatever you want, but when someone comes up to you with two teeth and starts telling you that “Yur vury purty. Do you like them there tractors and that cuntry musak,” don’t say I didn’t warn you.