So I have this affliction -- this is kind of a big deal to me, because it affects my livelihood -- but, you guys, I cannot tell a joke, for serious. Like that scene in 30 Rock, I think. I mess every joke up, every time. I've recited jokes after somebody else has told it, literally, seconds, and I fuck it up, forgetting the punch line or messing up the order. Like this:
Samantha: What did the zero say to the eight? Nice belt.
Me: What did the seven eight nine? GOD DAMMIT. What did the eight say to the zero? FUCK! Why did the eight wear a belt? JESUS CHRIST!
My brain can tally up six drinks while I'm pouring the first one, it can absorb multiple books in a day, it can remember the exact circumstances of purchasing and the price of every piece of clothing I own, but it cannot tell a joke to save it's LIFE.
The result is, I really hate jokes. A lot. And my brother, being that he works at a very testosterone-y bar, is constantly repeating to me the jokes that he's heard. They're terrible, all of them, but he earnestly queries me such things as ... ok, I can't even remember one of them (see: affliction), but I do remember that I never laugh.
The reason this is bugging me is because I heard a joke at this comedy thing I went to on Tuesday (truly horrific, I would have been pissed if the owner hadn't let us in for free...and even then, Kristie said, "I love how much you're hating this") and one of the comedians asked the audience member for a joke, and I can't repeat it because it's all in the delivery, but I've been practicing it and practicing it in the privacy of my car for the inevitable next time when a customer asks me to tell them a joke. It happens, ALL THE TIME, these requests for jokes from bartenders, which is another thing I really don't understand. You don't ask your bank teller for jokes. You don't ask your, I don't know, amusement park attendant for a one-liner. I am not here to amuse you; I am here to serve you something that will allow you to amuse yourself. This is why I could never be a professional bartender. Anyway, keep your fingers crossed for me that I will be bale to tell this joke, because I think it is a joke worthy of telling.
I had a dream about investing last night.
I'll hear back about the waitlist by the end of next week. I would have to be in Sacramento by August 12. I couldn't possibly tell you how I feel about this.