OK, new rule.
If you ever see me walking down the street and you think I’m in a good mood because I’m whistling to myself, you would be wrong. Not because I’m always in a bad mood when I’m out walking around on a glorious spring day, quite the opposite. I’m usually in a really wonderful mood, enjoying not only the sunshine and birdsong, but it might also be possible I’ve just been told some good news, like I’m going to India and Copenhagen for work, or some other nonsense.
Which, you must admit, would be fricking cool.
So you see, it’s not my mood about which you would be mistaken. It would be something else. And should you ever think I’m whistling happily to myself as I walk about, you should immediately stop me and say, “Boris says hello.†It doesn’t matter if you know me or not, just shout it out as if you did and you had just seen Boris and he wanted me to call him immediately.
Remember, “Boris says hello.†Write it down.
It’s a code phrase, you understand. A secretive and subtle method of alerting me to danger. I am depending on you, my loyal minions, to use this code phrase in order to warn me of my imminent peril. You see, there is no Boris. Boris does not exist. He is a figment of my imagination, a convenient construct that, thanks to your whispered remark, will let me know that I need to run, not walk, to the nearest private area and take care of something vital to my social survival.
In other words, I need to groom my nose hair.
Remember back at the beginning of this post when I mentioned how if I were walking down the street whistling it didn’t mean that I was in a good mood? The reason for that statement is that I don’t whistle when I’m in a good mood. In fact, I don’t whistle. At all. Ever. But you know what? The foot-long hair sticking out of my nose does.
And the bastard loves the Macarena.
Natasha loves the Macarena, too!