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I’m forgetful. Like, really forgetful. Like, someone will ask me, “Chris, can you grab me a soda while you’re in the kitchen?” and I’ll forget my name is Chris.
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This doesn’t bode well for current ne job. I’ve been working as sometimes, as soon as I walk away from a table, I’ll forget the woman said she is deathly allergic to nuts. I’ll bring a bowl of walnuts. Mixed with peanuts. That I’ve dipped my nuts into.
What I need is help. When I walk around, I carry a small notepad to make observations in. I write a lot of different things—this blog, fiction, non-fiction, rap lyrics, warnings for poison labels, gay personal ads, obituaries for friends and family behind their backs—and it’s always good to have a pen and paper on me to jot down a note to myself. I’d probably do it regardless of my profession; if I were a police officer I’d write “Reload Gun”; if I were a rapist I’d write “visit Suzie late at night.” It’s really the same.
So when I work as a waiter, I have a notepad to remind me of your stupid, complicated order (who doesn’t want tomatoes, but wants them on the side?), but I can’t always pull out a pen and paper in every situation, can I? It's much easier to
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do it while taking an order than, say, while having a serious relationship talk or arguing with a police officer. Plus, sometimes a reminder to myself will get buried and lost between an idea for a story and a gay personal ad. So what’s a boy to do?
I suppose I could carry around Post-it notes and constantly tack them to places I often look: my computer screen, my steering wheel, Suzie’s ass.
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Perhaps a better solution would be to buy a Palm Pilot but, to be honest, when I go out somewhere, I already carry my wallet, cell phone, iPod, keys, pen,
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small notebook, and Keebler elf friend Wally in my pockets, so a Palm Pilot would just be overkill. Plus, all those electronics so close to my balls could produce mutations...and not the cool X-men, shoot lasers from my balls mutations...more like the mishapen, useless testicle kind of mutations.
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So I was racking my brain for a solution to my memory problem (remember, that’s where I started? I know Suzie's ass was distracting) when it finally hit me. The perfect, simplest, least annoying way to remind myself of things: Clippy the Paperclip. You remember Clippy, right? That cute, helpful little paperclip who used to come with Microsoft Word? He was always a jolly, welcome guest to whatever paper, letter, or ransom note I was write. He was quick to offer advice and suggestions for content and formatting. He was great!
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If I could somehow procure a pocket-sized, real-life version of Clippy, I know my life would be much better. I could ask him to remember things for me, like where in the mall parking lot I left my car, which way I turn a screw to loosen it, or how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop.
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who won't shut up despite how we know perfectly well which exit takes us to Six Flags over Spokane and don't need her gabbing in our fucking ear. But I digress. This Clippy will be easy to silence (if only your girlfriend were as easy), and he'll even come with a self-destruct function if you get too frustrated with his interruptions.
So I'm going to do whatever it takes to get Microsoft to start manufacturing pocket-versions of Clippy as soon as possible, not just for me, but for humanity.
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