About a year ago, my boyfriend bought me this really neat Spider-Man watch. It was clearly designed for a 10-year-old, but even so, I absolutely loved it. I wore it all the time. Unfortunately, one day it ended up with my dirty laundry, and, well, let’s just say Spidey met his match with Dr. Spin Cycle.
Since then, I’ve remained watch-less. And with my cellphone also destroyed, I’m left with no dependable way of checking the time. Normally I wouldn’t mind asking others for it, but frankly, I’m getting sick of the lame-ass retort: It’s time to get a watch.
Whoever came up with that sorry excuse of a joke might not need to get a watch, but he should probably get a life.
But honestly, I shouldn’t get so worked up about it. I don’t have the time. No really… no one wants to tell me it.
I admit that I’ll never be able to prevent the lame quip, so instead, I’ve prepared a couple of decent comebacks:
“Yeah, well, it’s time to get a new joke.”
“It’s time to slap yourself in the face.”
“It’s time for me to steal your watch, drop you off at a nursing home, and while you’re battling to ignore the stench of crap and peas from the old people’s diapers, I hope you come to realize that you’ll never know the time again because most of these grannies don’t even know what planet they’re on.”
Okay, I fail.
Maybe the whole thing is my fault. Maybe the way I ask for time is confusing. Sometimes I send mixed signals. For example, I point at my wrist when asking for the time, but I don’t point at my crotch when asking for the bathroom.
Screw it. I’ll just wear the remains of my Spider-Man watch. Heck, even a broken watch is right twice a day (unless you’re in the military).
I may not know the time, but I know that time is money — you can spend, waste, and even invest it; and I refuse to waste anymore time on these obnoxious pooheads.
Wait. Shit. It’s too late. This blog is basically their shrine.
Ah, well, that’s life. And if life is a waste of time, and time is a waste of life, then let’s just all get wasted together and have the time of our lives.