I’m Not Sure Why I’m Not A Famous Marketing Person, Either

Some­times, when I have had a day full of peo­ple and their talk­ing to me, I will cruise Fab.com to decom­press and clear my head and it’s just so full of fun and ran­dom that I can’t help myself. Which is why I will occa­sion­ally send screen caps of things that I see on there with my own com­men­tary to my friends over iMes­sage. No, I don’t know why they let me have their phone num­bers either.

But then the other night, I found this lit­tle piece of awesome.

So I showed the guy pal and said, “I just found the most awe­some floor mat in the his­tory of floors. Like, seri­ously, if Cae­sar were alive today he’d be all, “WHY DON’T I HAVE THAT ON MY FLOORS?” and I’d be all, “Because Cleopa­tra didn’t really love you, man. Tough, but true. Also, BACK OFF, CAESAR, THAT GUY DIDN’T ACTUALLY COME WITH THE FLOOR MAT!”

Then he did that “polite” response thing that called it dif­fer­ent and kinda creepy.

Which made me feel like he wasn’t really get­ting how awe­some this was, which meant it was time to pull out my crazy great mar­ket­ing skills.

If he were mine, I’d put thought bub­bles over his head and change them out every­day. He’d say things like “Aaar­rgh!” on Talk Like A Pirate Day, and “There isn’t always room for Jello.” or “Excuse me, buddy, but my eye sock­ets are up HERE.” Peo­ple would be afraid of his creepy and stay out of my space, which makes him like a warn­ing sign or a guard dog, only bet­ter because you don’t have to feed him or take him to the vet, so he’s actu­ally sav­ing you money. It’s prac­ti­cally irre­spon­si­ble to not own him, and doesn’t fis­cal respon­si­bil­ity mat­ter to you at all?

I’ve named him Bartholomew and I feel like we were meant to be friends. Fated, even. He could live in my office. Well, you know, as the remains of the dead. Which wouldn’t be weird at all. I have a friend who has dead stuffed rodents in clothes that she keeps in her office. If any­thing, Bartholomew shows how nor­mal I really am here.

Really, Bartholomew is just mis­un­der­stood. I mean, look how he’s always smil­ing! I think we all could use a lit­tle more Bartholomew in our lives. Except for maybe Grandma. Because, old. Pos­si­bly because start­ing another rumor about Jello at the home will get me in trou­ble. I’m not entirely sure that being banned from a nurs­ing home is going to give me street cred. 

Him: Mas­ter­card or Visa?

Then later I admit­ted that I didn’t order Bartholomew and so I was sad because it’s hard let­ting go after break­ing up with a floor mat you didn’t actu­ally own.

And he told me I should get some rest, and that it’s always hard the first time, but by the time you break up with your sec­ond floor mat you never own, it’s much easier.

I’m just so lucky to have such great sup­port in the min­utes of heart­break not buy­ing a floor mat can bring.