The Tempest

Not Exactly Shooting For \”Miss Congeniality\”

Tell Someone Who Cares

Posted by Daniel on Sunday, January 29, 2006

Sleep Numbers…add this to the list of things I could go a lifetime without hearing again. They’re discussed at parties, meetings, at the water cooler, etc. I can’t put a ‘number’ on how many times I’ve been introduced to someone where the intro goes something like, “Hi, Daniel. I’m Sharon and I’m a 50. That’s my husband, Randy, over there. He’s a 90.” I’ve overheard gossip where Shawn was being discussed (he’s a 50) but someone mistook him for an 80, whereupon the describer’s astuteness was pointed out because Shawn had, in fact, once been an 80, but is now down to a 50. To you people I have something to say…You’re making my Schoolhouse Rock flashbacks less enjoyable by the minute.

Please keep your numbers away from me. I say this to spare you an uncomfortable tirade that will make you miss emptying the bong-water from your old waterbeds. Don’t come up to me and introduce yourself, “Daniel, it’s nice to meet you. I’m James and I’m a 70.” I just want to know your name (maybe) and could care less how you sleep. Believe me when I say I can tell how good or bad you sleep just by looking at you. Oh, and if I’m feeling particularly frisky, I’ll tell you. That’s just me. All you’re really telling me is that you paid way too much for a mattress that only serves a useful purpose as a floatation device.

If there is an introduction pending and one of the ‘introducees’ happens to be me, spare me the cliché numbers. Instead, here’s an introduction I look forward to hearing…”Hi, I’m Vlad and I cured all cancers.” Or…”I’m Rodney…I found Jimmy Hoffa. And this is my wife, Natasha…who discovered the alternative fuel that is environmentally safe, costs nothing to produce and is free to the world.” Where are these people and why can’t I get invited to their parties?

I’ll tell you where they are, they’re standing in a little thing called reality. That’s a place where we don’t have the time or interest in mattress-discussions. They’re all standing in lines to get their PowerBall tickets. Or patiently stuck in traffic behind some woman lost and on her cell phone, “Brittney? It’s me, Pammie. Are you still a 60? I’m lost on I-70 near exit 12 wedged between 16-wheelers and I’m trying to find the nearest 9 West. I’m so tempted to dial 911. Oh, and my husband Tom and I – yes, he’s still a 60 – are looking forward to seeing you at our anniversary party. It’s our 25th, you know. By the way, I’ve lost another 2 dress-sizes, so now I’m a 40.”

These are not important things to me. But I am asked occasionally. And my answer usually goes something like, “My sleep number is 10:00 o’clock and my dreamy other halfs’ number is the occasional “9”.”

For those of you stuck in the rut of your sleep numbers, I have just 4 words for you…I’m not the 1.


One Response to “Tell Someone Who Cares”

  1. Abi said

    Awesome, man

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