I’m a clichéd 20-something, so my phone and I go everywhere together. We sleep next to each other, we road trip, we go out to bars. I’m a little worried it’s cramping my love life, but my phone can do more things than any guy I’ve ever dated and it doesn’t get all weird and accusatory when I ignore it or talk to other boys.
There’s a Mitch Hedberg joke that goes, “Sometimes in the middle of the night, I think of something that’s funny, then I go get a pen and I write it down. Or if the pen’s too far away, I have to convince myself that what I thought of ain’t funny.” Because my phone and I have fused together to become one socially awkward superhuman, I don’t have to worry about finding a pen in the middle of the night any more– I just type myself a quick note and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, there are two flaws in this system.
The Terrible Two:
1) Because I write things down as soon as I think of them and assume I will review them in the morning, I never give myself any context. Of course, I don’t look at them the next morning. I find them weeks or months later and have absolutely no idea where they came from.
2) At some point after 1 a.m., I lose my mind. Not only do I have no context for the notes– I also have no idea what some of them mean. They read like a description of a Salvador Dali painting.
I don’t want to delete them in case I remember why they were so brilliant (not that that’s going to happen), so I have all these notes to myself– crazy half-written tweets, elaborately-titled lists, observations I thought were really meaningful at 3 a.m.– and I’ve had nowhere to put them. UNTIL NOW.
Late Night Notes from My Phone, Arranged from “Relatively Sane” to “Intensely Crazy Pants”
Places I Want to Kiss You, or, A Proposition in Prepositions:
– In stairwells
– Beneath trees
– Behind shelves
– Over dinner
– In front of people we hate
– Around people we like
– Out of doors
– In a hot air balloon
– In a bouncy castle
– After the gym
– Before the gym
– On a plain
– In Spain
– In the rain
Places I’ve Actually Kissed You:
Plans for My Life
Plan A: Get a job where I can eat pie and pet dogs all day. Is that a thing?
Plan B: Marry an astronaut. Does this make sense as a plan? Yes. Yes, it does. [Note: No. No, it does not.] This is definitely the best plan I’ve ever had! [Note: It probably is.]
– “To flirt” sounds like something you should do in the bathroom by yourself and never, ever talk about in polite company. Now every time my friends ask me if I think a guy was flirting, I’m just going to shout “YOU’RE DISGUSTING!” and not explain myself.
– If King Kong grabbed me and climbed up the Empire State Building, I would probably scream like a man. I need to practice feminine screaming.
– If Han Solo put down his blaster and Indiana Jones put down his whip and they got in a fight, who would win? I DON’T KNOW.
– Is Sandra Bullock doing ok? I hope she’s doing ok.
– For some reason, yelling “STOP DATING CRAZY PEOPLE!” at my friends has not resolved any of their issues.
– It freaks me out when people follow me on Twitter, but not as much as it freaks me out when people follow me in real life.
I Don’t Even Know
– Conan O’Brien has baby hands! BABY HANDS! BAAAAAAABYYYYY HAAAAANNNDS!!!
– An extremely short, extremely true story: The one time I went to a strip club, this really curvy stripper kissed my neck and purred at me and then told me I’d been a bad kitty. She asked me to put a dollar bill in my mouth so she could grab it with hers and get better tips from the men, but I told her I wouldn’t. She starting yelling at me and telling me she wanted a divorce and that she was taking kids. It was very confusing, but I have no regrets. Who knows where that dollar bill and stripper had been?
– I wish my name was Liesel Injection.
– When I start to fall asleep with my head under the covers, I can never tell if I’m tired or dying from lack of oxygen.
– Platypuses are the Judd Nelsons of the animal kingdom’s Breakfast Club.
– The scariest Halloween trick of all: We’re all going to die alone.
– Man. I would be an awkward ghost.