Candy and Tom Masters

Happy Tuesday kids. Tuesday is like sophomore year of high school, or your 26^th birthday- it doesn’t matter. Tuesday is the worst. It’s not the first day of the week, so you shouldn’t be all hung-over and tired, but it’s also not close enough to see Friday. So…it sucks. The only good thing about Tuesday is that I get stories from my friend, “Candy’s” (not her real name, but the one she uses at work while on stage) Monday night speech class. Candy can D.A.N.C.E (and drank) but the girl can’t speak to save her life. Not like she has a mental retardation, it’s more as soon as she realizes people are listening to her story her brain jams up and all that comes out is the punch line. It’s sort of like this- picture, if you will, Candy sitting with a group of people. All the sudden she wants to tell a joke:

Candy: “Hey guys, today one of my johns said something really funny.”

Group: “oh yea, tell us tell us!”

Candy: “He said, he was like, well ok- it started at around 2pm when he said…it was more like he was moving his hand…it was…and then he goes “to get to the other side!!” BAHAHAH get it?”

*Insert scratch on a record and dead silence

Group: “Um…wiggity what was that Candy Masters?”

So, Candy signed up for a Toastmaster group. This is her first “group” that isn’t court ordered so we’re all very proud of her. She goes every Monday and sweats in the back row just thinking about publicly speaking, while trying to get yours truly a date with everyone in her class. Candy’s husband started to get a little suspicious after multiple Mondays in a row that his lady-wife was arriving home after sunset and there was no dinner for him. They’re a very traditional “barefoot and pregnant, make me dinner woman” type couple. So he starts checking her emails, text messages and listening in on her conversations with the other…um…er…”dancers” at her work. One night he hears her mention that she’s been going to Tom Master’s every Monday. He doesn’t realize that her public speaking and stage presence has really improved, but he does notice that she’s exponentially happier on Monday evenings, giddy even.

I tell you this story because I may be unemployed, but there is ZERO lack of communication in that. I literally have no job and no one wants to give me one. That relationship, as far as communication goes, is like Swiss cheese- full of holes! Just to recap for all you slow-readers out there; Candy’s husband thinks she’s having an affair with a man named Tom Masters, when in reality she’s trying to better herself at a class called Toastmasters; you can see where the breakdown is, I’m sure.

Some of you may be asking yourselves why I haven’t stepped in since I am the sole person who knows where the trouble is….well, I’ll tell you why. I don’t like to get involved, no ma’am. I’ve got ma own issues to deal with and most of those revolve around figuring out how to turn down jobs without letting the State of California catch on to my plan and how to make myself get out of bed in the morning.

So, Candy, girl….get it. Getchu some Tom Masters and enjoy your Monday night J