Tim in the closet
People never believe me when I tell them about Tim. They always seem to think I am exagerrating, or making the whole thing up, but I'm not. Tim is real, and he lives in my closet.
No, this is not some metaphor about being secretly gay, Tim might date girls if any of them were brave enough to enter his closet, but they're not, and with good reason. Its just not a place you'd want to go. But back to the point, yes, I have a crazy guy named Tim who lives in my closet. No matter how much I explain that he is literal, my friends are always surprised when they're over at the house, sitting in the living room, and Tim jumps out of the closet raving about something or other. The response is always the same: "Oh my God! I thought you were joking about the crazy guy in the closet!"
But seriously, I'm not. This is the part where I'd tell you he's not really that crazy, and about his redeeming qualities, but he is, and he doesn't really have many. About 10 minutes ago I had to physically throw him out of my room because he had been lecturing for the last 40 minutes about how many eggs are in the refrigerator, how he had counted them, and how it was entirely too many. Trust me, that topic fulfills all its potential for novelty in the first 5 minutes.
My favorite Tim-ism always happens around 10-11pm. He'll be sitting on the couch watching "The Andy Griffith Show" for the 7th time that day, and then suddenly start yelling at everyone else in the living room, "Shut up! Stop talking! I'm trying to sleep!"
Me: Tim, you're sitting up, watching TV, and drinking a beer; you're clearly not trying to sleep.
Tim: Yes I am. No wonder I cant sleep with you guys sitting here talking.
Me: Tim, you havent even gone to your room yet.
Tim: I will soon.
Me: Then you can start bitching about trying to sleep then.
Tim: If I do, will you stop talking?
Me: No, this is our living room. Its the place where we socialize. But you might find it less noisy when you're in a different room.
This exchange would be less remarkable if we didnt have it at least twice every week.
He also argues that we should help conservation; that washing the dishes is a terrible waste of water, yet he (seriously) uses an entire roll of toilet paper every day. No, I dont know what he does with that much toilet paper, all I know is that it disappears.
Well, Tim may be a bit odd, and he may be a bit of a misogynist, and he may be messy, and occasionally attack a guest if left alone, but . . . well . . . yeah . . . oh! He's a hell of a violin player. I knew there was something positive to say about him. And he does make life a bit more interesting. Kind of makes you feel like there's a studio audience out there watching the popular sitcom "Rob's Apartment."
No, this is not some metaphor about being secretly gay, Tim might date girls if any of them were brave enough to enter his closet, but they're not, and with good reason. Its just not a place you'd want to go. But back to the point, yes, I have a crazy guy named Tim who lives in my closet. No matter how much I explain that he is literal, my friends are always surprised when they're over at the house, sitting in the living room, and Tim jumps out of the closet raving about something or other. The response is always the same: "Oh my God! I thought you were joking about the crazy guy in the closet!"
But seriously, I'm not. This is the part where I'd tell you he's not really that crazy, and about his redeeming qualities, but he is, and he doesn't really have many. About 10 minutes ago I had to physically throw him out of my room because he had been lecturing for the last 40 minutes about how many eggs are in the refrigerator, how he had counted them, and how it was entirely too many. Trust me, that topic fulfills all its potential for novelty in the first 5 minutes.
My favorite Tim-ism always happens around 10-11pm. He'll be sitting on the couch watching "The Andy Griffith Show" for the 7th time that day, and then suddenly start yelling at everyone else in the living room, "Shut up! Stop talking! I'm trying to sleep!"
Me: Tim, you're sitting up, watching TV, and drinking a beer; you're clearly not trying to sleep.
Tim: Yes I am. No wonder I cant sleep with you guys sitting here talking.
Me: Tim, you havent even gone to your room yet.
Tim: I will soon.
Me: Then you can start bitching about trying to sleep then.
Tim: If I do, will you stop talking?
Me: No, this is our living room. Its the place where we socialize. But you might find it less noisy when you're in a different room.
This exchange would be less remarkable if we didnt have it at least twice every week.
He also argues that we should help conservation; that washing the dishes is a terrible waste of water, yet he (seriously) uses an entire roll of toilet paper every day. No, I dont know what he does with that much toilet paper, all I know is that it disappears.
Well, Tim may be a bit odd, and he may be a bit of a misogynist, and he may be messy, and occasionally attack a guest if left alone, but . . . well . . . yeah . . . oh! He's a hell of a violin player. I knew there was something positive to say about him. And he does make life a bit more interesting. Kind of makes you feel like there's a studio audience out there watching the popular sitcom "Rob's Apartment."
posted by Psilocide | 11:35 PM
2 Comments:
Your own personal Lazlo Hollyfeld! Damn, I'm jealous. I thought that I already had all of the cool memorabilia from Real Genius, but you've topped me here.
Does he try to wear your pajamas?
Yes, he really, actually lives in the closet. And no, I dont have any pajamas for him to borrow.
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