I’ve been a bit lonely, lately.
So lonely, in fact, that I answered the phone when my ex randomly called me. He’s great, and we ended amicably about two years ago. And, then we ran into each other in a bar about six months ago, and had nostalgic sex. You know, where you’re like… “Awwww, I remember that penis… and, ooooooh, I know that mole! And… Ugh. You still make that noise, huh? Great.”
So, he was like, “How’s the Pacific North West?” Because he’s never been here…
And, I was like, “It’s amazing, the only thing I haven’t seen is Sasquatch. But, I hear he brings the kids colored eggs in the Sping, so I’m looking forward to that. You should definitely come down and see it.”
Then he said, “Oh, I would, but the FAA has put you on the No-Fuck-List.”
Ooooooh! Good one! Burn.
I was instantly like, well… They should notify you, because I’ve been violating that order all over the place.
And, then I began to think about it. Obviously, this was a joke that had been crafted for me. He was totally like, oh, when I see Jane again… Muahahahahahahah… As he twists his twirly mustache, the one he grew for this bit, specifically.
But, the construction began to bug me, not just because I’m a comic, but yeah…
He chose the FAA. The Federal Aviation Administration, does he think he has a Boeing 747? Because that’s not a commercial flight, John. You’re not going to need an airline hangar for that…
And, I love him, but wouldn’t it burn harder if he’d chosen the CDC (Center for Disease Control)?
That’s the joke. Damn.
I'm Jane Malone.