Archive | August, 2011

Catholic Guilt and Closet Kleptomania

9 Aug

I have an imagination that’s always on overdrive. This is something that most of my friends have discovered the hard way.  For instance, they have learnt that if you say “Guess what?” to me, I’ll probably widen my eyes and respond” You won the lottery! Or WAIT ,WAIT, you’ve discovered your mutant superpower…NO NO WAITT  – you’ve discovered how to use blood from a really ancient mosquito that once sucked the blood of dinosaurs and accidently got covered in sap to make new dinosaurs, oooh!!”  … Yes, I like Jurassic Park and the X-men, OK, shuttup.

Anyhow, last Saturday, The-Reluctant-Girl-friend (I should probably explain that this refers to a friend of mine who is a guy, but whom I’ve become so close to, that I can ask him ‘does my butt look weird in this dress’  without batting an eyelid. Though not thrilled with having to be my ‘best girl friend in the city’ when my other friends aren’t around, The-Reluctant-Girl-friend suffers this indignity with surprising tolerance) and I crashed at AV’s house after an excessive night of alcohol. We woke up the next morning grumpy, but quickly cheered up when we were given coffee.  After a sociable hour of ‘oh goodness, is THAT what I did last night’ reminiscing, we both left to our respective houses to pass out for the rest of the day.

An hour later, AV called me up. Apparently his phone was missing and he was just wondering if I’d picked it up by mistake.  Let me just mention here that a year ago The-Reluctant-Girl-friend and I were at another house party where a girl’s phone was stolen – and we never discovered who’d taken it.

I sat bolt upright, Catholic guilt flooding my alcohol riddled bloodstream. “What?? Your phone is MISSING?! Ohmigoodness! Have you searched everywhere? Under the table?  Over the T.V.? And in your hair?” I stammered (not unlike a character in a Dr. Seuss story).

AV (bless him) probably thought I was more drunk than I actually was, and told me not to worry, to sleep off the booze and that he’d call later.

As soon as he disconnected the call, I texted The-Reluctant-Girl-friend in a panic: Dude! AV lost his phone in his house! This looks SO bad! Why does this seem to happen when we’re there!!!! Did you take it by mistake? Should we go and offer to look for it?

He texted back unreassuringly: No! I feel like we’re guilty by association! Did you take it by mistake? And no, if we go and one of us finds it, he’ll think we planted it there while pretending to search for it!

This is a pictorial depiction of what went through my mind next:

I looked around my room, fearfully expecting to see a strange shiny looking white Blackberry. When I couldn’t spy it, I looked in my bag. You would think that not being able to find the missing phone would have calmed me down, but noo, what do I do? I check in my clothes. After all, a closet kleptomaniac is capable of anything. After searching through my jeans AND underwear, I was still unconvinced of my innocence.

What could I have possibly done with the phone? Fueled by that overactive imagination of mine, I came up with several conclusions:

1)      Fearful of being discovered, I flushed it down the toilet

2)      I suddenly developed MPD and one of my alternate personalities hid it away so that my current alter does not conscientiously know where it is

3)      I dropped the phone into my cup of coffee, and was unexpectedly struck by temporary amnesia

4)      There was a loop in the time-space continuum and it was necessary for me to come back to my present to steal the phone and prevent some impending catastrophe ( I also like LOST)

While mulling over which one of these was the most probable explanation, and preparing to go to Confession to Hail-Mary my sin away, The-Reluctant-Girlfriend called me back. Apparently AV had found the phone stuffed inside his sofa.  After listening to my guilt trip story, he repeated his usual admonition that I was a highly insane individual who would never be bored when I was thrown into the Solitary cell in prison.

Well, atleast food in jail is supposed to be nourishing, right? I hear that they serve Jello for desert regularly..mmm…Jelllo.