Lloyd Bunson, Professional Worrier
Hello 3.5 readers.
Are you a worry wart like me? I’m so worried that don’t worry and thus you’ll find my worries trite and boring. But then again, maybe you do worry as much as me and in fact, telling you about my worries will only add to your long list of worries!
Oh, so much to worry about!
Here are my latest worries:
I worry that one day, I will forget to drink enough liquids and will dry up like a sponge left out in the sun. Worse, maybe I’ll just turn to dust and all of my little dust particles will fly away.
I once thought that carrying a bottle of water with me wherever I go would solve the problem. That way, I never have to worry that I won’t be able to find a drink when I’m thirsty. I’m a hundred percent certain that if I don’t get any water into me at the exact second I feel thirsty, I will turn into a dry sponge, or dust, or worse, a dry, dusty sponge.
But then I nixed the water bottle idea because, you know, what if I drink too much water and can’t find a bathroom? Then my bladder will surely explode in a horrifying manner, raining bloody bits and pieces of my shredded bladder all over everyone in the blast radius. I’ll be dead and everyone around me will be traumatized, all because I worried so much about dehydration.
So then I figured I’d split the difference. I’ll carry a bottle of water AND I’ll pee in the empty bottle if I can’t find a bathroom. However, I became concerned that I might be arrested for public lewdness.
Sadly, I don’t think I will ever find a solution to this problem.
I always worry that I might tip too much or too little.
What if the waiter is trying to make rent this month and I tip too little? This person will end out in the street, turning tricks for cents on the dollar, all because of my lousy math skills.
But what if I tip too much? Then this waiter will get used to it. He’ll stop trying hard. He’ll assume he can just coast by and everyone will give him a big tip. He’ll never move up to management. He’ll end up being a seventy year old waiter.
So, I just don’t go out to eat anymore. I cook all my meals out home, then I serve them to myself. Then I worry a lot about what I should tip myself. Sure, it’s my own money, but I still want to do right by myself.
Sometimes I’ll feel a booger lodged in my nose. I’ll start to pick it, but then I become very concerned that I’ll push my finger up my nasal cavity with so much force that I’ll end up stabbing myself in the brain. So I stop.
Then I start worrying that the booger is cutting off my supply of oxygen and will surely cause me to suffocate. So I start picking again.
It’s a vicious cycle.
Sexually Transmitted Diseases
I worry I’ll die alone, so I get out there on the dating scene and try to mix and mingle.
Once in awhile I’ll meet a woman. She’ll invite me back to her place but I have no idea about this woman’s sexual history. It’s rude to ask and even I were to ask, how do I know she’s not a pathological liar pretending to be clean and pure when in fact, she’s made her way through the entire NFL?
So, I always insist on wrapping my entire body with garbage bags, and then wrapping the woman’s entire body with garbage bags before we cuddle. So there we will be, cuddling in our garbage bags and sure enough, she’ll want to touch my little Lloyd Bunson.
Am I really supposed to let her touch it with her vagina? Do you have any idea how many germs are in one of those things? It boggles my mind to think about it.
So that’s the point where I usually run out of the building and down the street, still wearing all those garbage bags with my arms flailing around while I’m screaming out of sheer terror at the top of my lungs.
Eventually, I get home and I sit there on the couch in complete solitude. My concerns about STDs fade and my concerns about being alone return.
I suppose one of these days I will have to touch one of those vaginas. I just hope I can find one that isn’t too germy. Surely, the right woman will submit to a battery of invasive vaginal germ tests.
Do you have any ridiculous worries? I’m really worried that you’ll share them in the comments and then I’ll have no idea what to say.