The Notepad

Found this little ditty today.

In high school I use to carry this around and write jokes and joke ideas in it.  Now I’m adding it to my folder of half written scripts, comedy sketches, scribbled story outlines and loose rap verses that will never see the light of day AKA the folder of broken dreams.

Ah, to be young with disillusions of grandeur.

A Quick Note

I take notes when I’m drunk.

It started in college.  It was Senior Ball.  The last hurrah for graduating seniors.  The guys got dressed in suits.  The girls in dresses.  It was at Chelsea Piers.  People arrived in limos.  It was basically prom with an open bar.

I figured these would be my last memories of college.  I wanted to remember them.  I also figured the words “open bar” would probably play a role in fuzzy-fying those memories.  I know some people take pictures to combat that problem, but pictures only tell half the story.  I wanted to remember what I was thinking more than what I was doing.  I already knew what I was going to do.  I was going to (in this order) drink, dance, drink more, rock out to Party in the USA, drink more, make a fool of myself, drink more, make a terribly ill-advised move on somebody, eat pizza, go home, fall asleep.  You know the typical night out.

I took notes on my iPhone the entire night.  The outcome.  The most embarrassing thing I ever wrote.  It was probably also the best thing I ever wrote.  I deleted it a week later.  But that tradition continues.  After a few shots, my phone comes out and I take note of whatever important thoughts are in my head.

I went out Monday night for a friend’s birthday.  I took a look at my phone today and there’s a note I have no recollection of writing (or even thinking).

“Your type is blonde and foreign looking
It’s a wonderful world”

What does THAT mean?  I feel like Leonard Shelby in Memento right now.  I Googled the phrase, thinking maybe it was from a song or something.  Google had no idea what I was talking about.  None.  My type is decidedly not blonde (ahem ahem ahem), maybe sometimes foreign looking (ahem), but still not blonde.  So who is the “your” I’m referring too?  And why is it a wonderful world?  And are these two separate thoughts or are they connected?  Was there a beautiful blonde foreign looking girl in the bar that made me think it was a wonderful world?  If so, who was she and where is she now?  I’ve got too many questions right now.  I thought I remembered most of the night, obviously I didn’t, because I have no recollection of even thinking about blondes, foreigners or it being a wonderful world.

Moral: Next time take better notes.