Ajax Thinks

Ajax Thinks
by Muffin Man

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Romance is in the Air...Better Than Asbestos Being in the Air

I'm not in love, don't worry. Not that you would. But if you were, then stop. If you are now worried because I said I am not in love then you can stop that as well. Just stop worrying about anything Ajax related, except for worry about what would happen if I ever stop this blog. That is a legitimate worry, for if I stop this blog you will have to resort to finding entertainment and education through any one of millions of other avenues for such things. It's best not to talk about that right now though. Just be happy that I am still posting on this blog and continue to check in everyday, don't go to other sources for education or humor. Okay, you can go other places for education, but keep it here for humor...here and the Marx Brothers, Psych and Jerry Seinfeld. And Brian Regan, too.

Back to the romance in the air. I have been reading old e-mails today. I had opened the 'sent' folder of my Yahoo! mail and noticed that there were over 1700 messages in there. I've never noticed how many messages it had saved, so after finding the information I had gone there to find, I scrolled down to see how far back this message trail goes. August 2002. I started reading messages I sent to people I haven't talked to since then. It was an interesting discovery. I felt like I was in the museum of Ajax. I found the first e-mails between Muffin Man and me. Nothing has changed in the five years since then. We are still making the same jokes.

I took my old message reading to Facebook. I happened upon a message Muffin Man sent to me on March 13th of this year. It was in regards to a blog post I had done that he found particularly hilarious, he said about the post
Your most recent one, about the "love email", is quite possibly the funniest
thing I've ever read. Although because of my low-grade Alzheimer's, I can't
really commit to that statement. It was hilarious though... was literally
on my knees laughing whilst holding my stomach...
He went on to say that the physical discomfort he experienced because of the laughter was well worth it. Which he says was the 7th most romantic thing he has ever said to anyone. I retorted
[That] is the 4th most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, after:
3. Are those your real ears? 2. You know the bus schedule in this town
better than anyone I've ever met, even the bus drivers. 1. No dogs allowed,
you'll have to tie him to that tree or something before you come in
I just realized that it probably isn't as funny when it comes out in this context. I think it is hilarious, but for me to re-write it here just seems cheap and needy. I won't deny that. I like to make people laugh. Even at the risk of seeming like a show-boater. But really, when you think about it, this whole blog is about me show-boating. So I guess the romance in the air is actually the love I have for my own ability to write funny things. It doesn't matter now I'm doing asbestos I can. How's that one? Huh? That was a new joke. I think it is along the lines of Chico Marx, such as when Groucho needed the password and Chico gave him a hint. The hint was that the password was the name of a fish, and Chico would give Groucho three guesses. His first guess was "Mary," to which Chico said something like nah, thata not the name of a fish, and Groucho says, its not? She sure drinks like a fish. Something to that extent. Just look up "Marx brothers swordfish" on YouTube and you'll probably find it. So where was I? Right, so the second guess of Groucho's is haddock, to which Chico responds something like, you've got a haddock? I've got a haddock too. Then Groucho, what do you take for a haddock? And so forth. You get the idea. So when I say asbestos, I'm saying it like as best as. I've heard a joke is no good if you have to explain it. I don't think I had to explain this one, so it's still good. Besides, the whole process of thought that I just displayed for you ought to be worth something. Now you know how things work inside my head. This is the beat of the cymbal crashing monkey in my mind. Or, this is the pace of how fast he turns the gear crank while eating his banana and reading his book. However you slice it, there is a small cartoonish monkey at the helm in my brain. Figuratively speaking.

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