Remember the “Compliment Sandwich” scene from Family Guy? If not, here’s a refresher: “Now, I'm going to do something I like to call the 'Compliment Sandwich" Where I say something good, talk about where you need improvement, and then end with something good. Okay...something good... something good...you look like SNOOPY and it makes me smile...but you have smelly dog farts.”
I’m going to fly solo this round because I live with my cats and the people in my apartment complex only have bad things to say about me (i.e. “you’re a weird cat lady”, “you hula hoop too loudly”, “you are the one that caused the pita fire”, “you ran over my vehicle”, etc.) . Ready, set, go!
Good: I make wonderful lasagna.
Bad: I have a difficult time staying up past 9:30 pm.
Good (potentially creepy): I smile at strangers.
Bad: My house is kind of messy.
Good: My cats have great names.
Bad: I have the attention span of a goldfish.
Good: I like goldfish a lot…I have 4 at home right now.
Bad: I am a serial goldfish murderer.
Pathetic: I had to come up with a quadruple-decker, compliment sandwich before I could openly admit that I am a cold-blooded criminal. I have a serious problem- I should be in jail right now.
Everyone loves goldfish, you know? People come over and they instantly want to be my friend because they think that I have goldfish. But I’m sick of telling them why I have an empty fish tank (actually, they’re probably more concerned that there’s an empty fishtank where my television should be- “what the hell are we going to do at Shelby’s house?”).
Here’s a tale, ya’ll! For about five years, my sister and I begged my parents for goldfish. We had cats for a while until my mother gave them away one day without telling us, so we needed something to fill the void in our lives. One weekend, my parents went out of town (probably to Comic Con or a Furries convention…or Cripple Creek), so my sister and I bought eight goldfish. Dwight, Senior Gluteus Maximus, Lady Macbeth, and Karen lived in my room and Betty Crocker, Billy Cosby, Theodore Roosevelt, and Ed were stowed away with Alyssa. All four of my fish were dead before my parents got back from their trip two days later. Betty Crocker and Bill Cosby both lived to be over a year old…Ms. Crocker is still kickin’ it as far as I know.
I bought four more fish when I moved out of my parents’ house- dead, dead, dead, and dead. I bought four more shortly after their unfortunate death- dead, dead, dead, and dead. This routine has occurred six times- I have killed 24 goldfish in the past year. That is 24 times that I have come home, greeted the tank with a “here fishy, fishy”, spied the rigor mortis floating atop the water, scooped the fishy body out, and flushed it down to brown town. Do you know what that does to a person? Do you know how hard it is to come up with names for 24 goldfish?! This week’s goldfish didn’t even have names. RIP, Goldfish #20-#24.
If you or anyone you know needs a fishtank, give me a call :)
Still hungry? Have another sandwich!
Good: I recognize there is an issue and I’ll never, ever buy goldfish again.
Bad: I've killed 13 houseplants this year.
Good: I drew you pictures of houseplants!