Recently, I was told to “print truth and raise hell.” Translated into John-speak: go big or go home. The following story could forever ruin my journalistic credibility, but hey, I’m on my 14th minute of fame and I lost all my dignity when I downloaded Ke$ha’s first album and subsequently became her for Halloween (and for many months following dubbed “the afterglow”).
The party always ends when I walk in.
So, my organizational skills are horrendous and I’ve left the audience hanging in suspense. Picture it: a scenic train ride through the Arizona wilderness. Nah, picture this: one John Brandi trapped between a rock and the Cosmic Slap with an ensuing bowel movement to boot. Yeah, I rationalize that I can wait, cue an internal debate, literally. But then the train’s loudspeaker comes on, and we still have another two hours to go until the Grand Canyon.
Concessions must be made and humiliating reparations must be paid to the mighty slap. And if I side swept any in-aisle pedestrians, I didn’t notice because my attention turned to something more frightening: a train-cart’s toilet.
What is the sound of the Cosmic Slap slapping? Like Paris Hilton winning the lottery and then financing Rebecca Black’s “Friday” world tour. Well this toilet is far worse than that. And yes, I had enough common sense to hover, but with my extraordinary hindsight abilities, that choice may now be considered a temporary lapse of judgment.
In the middle of doing the dirty deed – Bam! Or was it more chick-chick swoosh? – the train jolted forward and I can tell you it wasn’t a box of Valentine’s Day chocolates sitting there next to the toilet. What’s worse is that someone actually tried to open the door (it was locked), so I froze in horror in what might possibly be one of the most compromising positions of the early 21st Century.
Maybe next time, Cosmic Slap, you could de-rail the train. But here I am, with a limited amount of toilet paper, trying to find one attractive spot to look elsewhere and contemplate my options.
For this next part, I am not proud. I take a sheet of what’s left, place it over the next guy’s problem and stealthily exit and slink back to my seat.
Well I can honestly say I was so embarrassed by this ordeal that I have only recently started to feature this story on my headline comedy tours and now to a college campus that ought to start boiling the tar, plucking the feathers and polishing the rail. Or we’ll call it a day and the Cosmic Slap, catch my fall. (Anyone else picture that white glove at the end of “Super Smash Brothers” for Nintendo?)
Comments? Questions? How’s my driving? So, in essence the Cosmic Slap (patent-pending) is a dangerous force to be reckoned with, and I’m sure I’m not alone. It spreads to those around you, but always picks favorites. I’ve got 21 years of anecdotal experience to prove it.
So I guess I’m done here: visit your local library, eat your vegetables, stay in school and if you’re traveling by rail, GO before you go! Otherwise, let’s aid legislative efforts in ending high-speed rail production.
“I knew that people were going to talk about it, I knew it was embarrassing and I knew it was a big deal. But did I think that it was going to be this thing that followed me for, you know, the next years to come? I guarantee you, 25 years from now, I’ll be known as the girl that lip synced on ‘SNL.’ But, you know, it was a weird thing. Not fun.” – Ashlee Simpson