I know I said I would be posting a picture of me in my birthday suit today. So it’s included at the end of the post. (The Girlfriend breaks into a cold sweat.)
First off, I caught a lot of flack about my Brief History of Me post. My friends and family have all said, “How come you didn’t include this?” or “How could you not mention that!?” So I just want to make one thing clear: what I wrote in that post is not everything that has happened in my life. A lot of other stuff occurred. I’ve met more than the seven or eight people mentioned. Many more things happened. I mean, I was a heroin addict for four years!
Not really, but you get my point. Please don’t think I meant it to be my autobiography. It wasn’t. My actual autobiography (This Goes A Lot Quicker If You Don't Fight Back: The Life of Daniel Murphy) should be in stores by the end of the month.
I also caught some flak for making fun of giving stars as gifts, mostly due to the fact that I’ve given stars as gifts in the past . . . a few times. Actually, let’s just say that if I had had better foresight, I could have bought all the stars in the same vicinity of the night sky and could now have my own constellation named “Ex-Girlfriends.” Is this “the pot calling the kettle black?” I don’t know, because I don’t know what that saying means. But I’m just letting you know that I’ve seen the error of my ways. Now when I’m not sure what to buy a girl, I give her cash. Or nude photos of me. But the internet has made that an increasingly risky move.
I also have to get this out of the way. I hate watching “The Apprentice.” Or I hate that I continually watch this show. But I do, and these moments are the reason why:
(In the boardroom.)
The Donald: (in Donald voice) “Did everyone know [that Brian was gay]? Cause I didn’t know.” (To Brian.) “So you don’t find Alla attractive? You don’t find Felisha attractive?”
Brian: (confused) “They’re beautiful women, but they’re not my thing.”
The Donald: (with Donald hand gestures) “That’s why they have menus in restaurants. I like steak, somebody else likes spaghetti. That’s why they have menus in restaurants. It’s a great world.”
(five minutes later)
Donald: (to Adam, the youngest contestant on the show) “Right now, you don’t feel comfortable with sex. You will. Someday, you will. It’s gotten me into a lot of trouble. It’s cost me a lot of money. Do you understand that?
Adam: (so visibly awkward) “Yes Sir, I do understand.”
Donald: “You’ll probably be there. In many respects I hope you are.” (wistful pause) “Because there’s nothing like it. OK . . . Alright.” (Donald openly strokes his erection.)
So it’s the last installment of the birthday week series. From here I’m making the leap to “It’s downhill to 30!” Being an adult; not tracking time by the number of years since graduating college; stretching before and after I play sports; buying porn instead of downloading it from the internet; being the man I never thought I could always be. That’s right, this coming Monday, the next time you read me, I’ll be 26. Unless of course something funny happens in the bathroom over the weekend and I feel the need to share it. Because some things don’t change.
This just in: No way I can leave out this email I just received from The Girlfriend.
“THIS WAS MY NIGHT?
So I go to bed last night around 11:15. At 2:45 am, I wake up when I hear something being dragged across my floor, starting in the kitchen and slowly progressing to the bedroom. I wake up in a daze thinking two things:
1. What kind of cockroach is carrying off my TV remote? (Because that’s what it sounded like – a TV remote being dragged across the floor.)
2. I’m awake at 2:45 am, should I have a snack?
When I finally come to and put on my glasses and turn on my light, I see a MOUSE carrying a TRISCUIT. A WHOLE IN-TACT TRISCUIT. And apparently, the hairdryer wire on my floor is posing a barrier and the triscuit is caught. The mouse just looks at me as if to say, can you give me a hand here? I stare at it for a while.
FLASHBACK to one week ago when you, honey oh my darling, overturned a box of triscuits and then, after picking them up, ensured me that you got them all. GOD I LOVE YOU.
So I start to think of plans. At first I think – trap it in a pot, but I know that won’t work. Then I think, spray it with something toxic. The items that come to mind are:
1. Pam cooking spray
2. ironing starch
3. Clorox multi-purpose cleaner with bleach
Sadly, these are the only things I have in my apartment that spray. Obviously #3 was the best choice. By this time, mouse and triscuit have made their way through the hairdryer wires, behind your duffel of clothes, under the bed and to the heater under the window. Then SILENCE. So I get the Clorox and go to the heater, ready to poison it with clean. After dousing the area, I noticed that the mouse had escaped but the triscuit, too big to fit down the pipe, was lodged in the hole. SILENCE. Then I hear the mouse EATING AWAY AT THE BOTTOM END OF THE TRISCUIT. The only option was removal of the triscuit, but I wasn’t about to touch anything with my bare hands. I thought – kitchen tongs, but quickly realized I don’t own any. The only thing I could come up with was scissors, so I got my scissors and used them in a pincer like fashion to remove the triscuit and dispose of it. I also threw away the scissors for good measure. After pouring some more bleach down the pipe hole, I went to bed, sleeping with my glasses and the light ON.”
For the record, she did NOT sign this email “With love . . .”
And finally, me in my birthday suit (God, this is so embarrassing . . .)
(Note: Doing a Google search for “naked baby” I quickly realized two things: 1. Only white people put pictures of their naked babies on the internet; and, 2. if anyone ever saw my search history I would be fired and quite possibly prosecuted.)