I Can’t Be Trusted Alone with You, JOANN
Listen, JOANN. We both know I could spend all night just staring into your aisles. The problem is I should be halfway home with dinner in hand. The wife would KILL me if she found out I was here again. But when I realized how close by you were, I couldn’t stop thinking about exploring every inch of you or how much I had to pee. And your bathroom makes me feel like the only boy in the world. But this is the third time I’ve seen you this week and I really shouldn’t engage in anything other than a little light touching. THAT’S IT.
Of course you immediately start tempting me by pushing your perfect pair of scissors in my face and CUT MY PAPER HEART OUT—THEY’RE ONLY TWELVEBUCKS! I love you, JO. Mmmm, show me that mixed media paper you know I like, baby. OH, JOANN, 20% off!? How can you be so good to me? With all these glues to choose from it’s no wonder I’m stuck inside you again! You make me want to be so much more than an artist. You make me want to be a BAD artist.
UGH…This is wrong. I have to go. I just texted my best friend, “I’ll holla back. @my side chick’s rn.” I’m LYING again, JOANN. All because my “bad boy” cred took a serious hit when the homies learned of our frequent little trysts. Not to mention, my “credit” credtanked from not being able to make the minimum payment on my Visa after that holiday crafting bender. Why the hell did you let me buy a Cricut® Joy? Anyway, now the bank is being pissy about our mortgage rate because I am a “financial risk” or whatever and my wife keeps telling me how my Etsy store “isn’t a job.” I wish I could just stay the night here, get cozy, and sew my own blanket while I dream up ways to mend this nightmare. It’s just not in the cardstock.
I think what I’m trying to say is that I’m going to put these things back. I can’t be trusted alone with you, JOANN. This is killing my marriage. She found your “stop back and save” coupon in my pants pocket while doing some laundry—proof we’ve been unsupervised recently. So next time you see me, I’ll have a companion that doesn’t understand our relationship, no will to be here, and waning patience. It’s the only way to get me in and out of here in what an average person would call a “reasonable” amount of time. But before I walk out that door, JOANN, I’m stealing an eraser. Bad boy.
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Former co-producer of San Francisco cult-favorite The Art Critique Comedy Show, Jordan Cerminara currently manufactures humor right outside of Portland, Oregon–exports include VR stand-up shows powered by FlipsideXR, silly ass analog collages, and good ol’ fashioned comic strips for the Seattle-based Scarfff Comics Newspaper.
