Strainer on head, corn-chip baths, and new pants

7 Dec

Future me popped up today.

I really hate it when she does this.

Standing there with what looks like a strainer woven with pipe cleaners on her head, she puts her hands on her hips and clears her throat until I acknowledge her presence.

As if I’m not busy enough sorting out current self.  I’m expected to entertain future Ryan just because she falls in love with a mad-scientist sometime around 2019 and steals his time machine after she finds him in bed with her tailor?

Sigh.

She never has anything positive to say.  Just a whole lotta judgement about what 29 year old Zilla is doing with her life.  Well you know what?  We can’t all be mad-scientist muses.  It’s a select group lady, and clearly; I’m not there yet.

The first time she showed up she was 84 year old me.  She got all offended that I couldn’t recognize her.  Also, she smelled like Fritos so it’s good to know that they serve those in whichever asylum becomes my home in 2064.

Today was 53 year old Ryan.  Rocking stilettos and massive jewellery.  I couldn’t get her to tell me how she came to own such lovely possessions, which was annoying.  She smelled good though, so the descent into bathing in corn-chips clearly doesn’t happen until much, much later.

She told me to keep writing and to be more responsible.  I raised my eyebrow at her on the latter point, but she pretended like she didn’t notice.

No one wearing kitchen supplies as a helmet has the right to lecture me on responsibility.

She wouldn’t tell me winning lottery numbers (claims she wouldn’t remember them even if she tried-of all things, I find this most believable).  She wouldn’t tell me if she has children or if they drive her crazy.  Though the long sigh and nod of exhaustion indicate a daughter capable of my own antics in my future.

She laughs menacingly when I ask her how many times she’s been married.

Which of course I find comforting.

The only thing she’ll tell me is to keep writing.

Seems to have done her some good.  Her sense of humor still dominates her personality.  She deleted the first draft of this post.  Her expression while doing so indicated she thought that was downright hysterical and thus merited a victory dance.

53 year old Ryan dances no better than her younger version.

Then she popped out of the air while giggling.  The last I heard was a shout that sounded like:

‘stock up on tight pants in 2011.  You’re gonna need them!!”

So it’s really not my fault that I went shopping this afternoon.

Was just taking the advice of someone older, wiser, and more sophisticated.

I’m pretty sure that’s a universal law.  Just like gravity and (evidently down the road) time travel.

So that’s why I have new pants.

Who can blame me?

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11 Responses to “Strainer on head, corn-chip baths, and new pants”

  1. Bob December 7, 2010 at 8:02 pm #

    I wish that I had a time traveling future self that would pop in from time to time. Although I doubt that ANY incarnation of me would tell me to go buy tight pants. Say it with me people “Ewwwww”

    That would be like putting speedo’s on a goat, funny but ultimately pointless.

    • wanderingmenace December 8, 2010 at 2:38 pm #

      I like how you thought of a goat, of all things to come up with-a goat is pretty specific. 🙂

      • Bob December 8, 2010 at 5:43 pm #

        These things just pop into my head, actually it seemed like a good idea at the time. I just don’t question the voices anymore.

        They haven’t steered me wrong yet.

        This just in butter tarts make for excellent and tasty nipple protectors! ;P

  2. Gnetch December 8, 2010 at 2:48 am #

    I can’t blame you for going shopping for tight pants. Whatever your future self tells you is correct.

    I wish my future self talks to me soon. She’s being such a bitch.

    Oh. Ouch. I just called myself a bitch. ;D

    • wanderingmenace December 8, 2010 at 2:38 pm #

      haha.
      Yea well mine is a menace, not that this is surprising…

  3. Georgina Dollface December 8, 2010 at 12:26 pm #

    Very, very funny! The next time I need an excuse to go out and buy spandex, imagonna blame it on the “future old lady me”. Or the future old lady me’s 12 cats. And for the record, you better keep writing, because this is some seriously funny, original stuff you’ve got here. Cheers! – G
    BTW – In the future, have they figured out how to hide camel toes whilst wearing tight pants? Just thought I’d ask.

    • wanderingmenace December 8, 2010 at 2:48 pm #

      The thing is, future Ryan refuses to tell me anything relevant whatsoever. It’s doubly irritating because she drops little phrases like this:
      (insert low whistle-which is weird, because as of now I cannot whistle): ‘hot damn, what you’re wearing is worse than the great catastrophe of ’14’. Then she won’t tell me what she’s talking about.
      Mutters something about the butterfly effect and continues pestering me.
      Thanks for the compliments! I guess I’m gonna have to keep trying. 🙂

  4. Grandma Helen December 9, 2010 at 4:13 am #

    What have you been drinking?

    • wanderingmenace December 9, 2010 at 11:08 am #

      Just the sweet elixir of life Grandma, just the sweet elixir of life.
      Well that and apple cider, so I suppose the sugar could have gone to my head.

  5. subWOW December 12, 2010 at 5:50 am #

    I love the prudence exhibited by Future Ryan for not wanting to reveal some of things to you. Very impressive.

    • wanderingmenace December 12, 2010 at 12:53 pm #

      Yes well…..
      She just does it cause she knows it’s irritating.
      She’s a menace like that.
      Bitch.

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