Today is, fittingly, Monday and I am sitting in the wind and rain at the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal, after just having driven five hours, only to miss the 3 p.m. ferry by four minutes.
Today there are ferries running at 1 p.m., 2 p.m., 3 p.m. and of course, 5 p.m. I’m angry. Really angry. Like, threat level orange angry. But real orange. Like the fruit, not like that weird woman from accounting who is WAY too tanned in December. “I just went to Cuba!”… sure you did, Cathy. Sure you did.
So I sit here at the last minute trying to think of what to write for my very first column in the newly minted Monday Magazine. I’ve made a few attempts, but they don’t care for some of my “roast-style” material. So what to write? I am given an opportunity to share my opinions and sense of humor with the people. So what do I say? I have no idea. The only things that come to my mind right now are that I’m cold and that chain smoking, German backpackers are disgusting.
A man just came up to me as I typed on my computer and asked, “Do they have WiFi?” to which every part of me wanted to say, “Nope, I just like to pretend!”
As a comedian I can stand in front of a crowd of strangers and tell jokes for an hour with ease. Ask me to write one column and, apparently, I turn into a useless 300-pound douche-canoe. Obviously, that last part is a joke. I’m closer to 350. A lot of people have asked me why I would even bother to write a column for a magazine when so many consider this to be the end of an era for print media. To those folks I say this: Shut up! You don’t know anything! I’m hip! I have an iPhone! My finger is on the pulse of all things cool! Now, if you will excuse me I need to go and alphabetize my VHS tapes.
Ever notice that the people selling newspapers car-to-car at the ferries are the strangest looking people in the world? To be honest, I lock the doors when they get close. Unless, of course, they advertise in this paper then … I dunno … aren’t they charming and great or whatever?
I asked Monday Magazine what they wanted me to write about and all they said was “we don’t know, just write something funny.” This being my sixth draft, I’m beginning to think that my idea of funny is wrong. More likely my idea of “print appropriate” is wrong. I can’t tell jokes from my show. Car advice? I don’t drive. Fashion? I’m wearing all Walmart clothes. Maybe I should give advice like a fat Dear Abby. To be fair, I don’t actually know what kind of body type she had. Has? Is she still alive? Am I just an out of touch fatter Dear Abby? Look at this people! Without guidance I have wasted the majority of my column on fat jokes and ill-placed Dear Abby humour.
How many words do I even have? WHAT? That’s it? Why didn’t I ask that at the start? What am I at now? Dammit!