Me and Jessica Alba
Here’s a disgusting piece of unfinished shit. No, not Jessica Alba. I’m talking about another unfinished flotsam from my Drafts folder. See how much I value you, the loyal reader? I’m still suffering a severe case of writer’s block so this is what happens.
Thus we launch yet another meme here on the blog. This one is called “Tales from the Drafts Folder.”
Just for the hell of it, I decided to calculate the odds off me and Jessica Alba hooking up. It could happen.
Assumptions:
- Population of Earth: 7 billion (rounded up from 6.75 billion)
- The population is about 50/50 by gender
- There is only one Jessica Alba
- There is only one precious and special snowflake known as “me”
Complicated mathematics formulae go here.
Q: Assuming a random “getting jiggy with it” between one male and one female on planet Earth, what are the odds it would be Jessica Alba and Tom B. Taker?
A. One in 12,250,000,000,000,000,000.
Unfortunately, that number is so big, I don’t even know what it is called. Probably something like a bouillon. So we’ll just use our poetic license and say the odds are about one in 12.3 bouillon.
That’s like winning the Powerball lottery 62.7 billion times. So I’m hopeful.
Living the dream – nevermore
It was a dark and stormy night. My wife and I were going to bed. Suddenly, a shot rang out.
This is the true story of last night.
We were fluffing our pillows and on final approach for nitey nite. Then my wife did something that happened to irritate me. No, I don’t remember now what it was. That isn’t germane to this tale. But I do remember quite clearly what I said in response.
“Just for that I’m going to close my eyes and repeat the name ‘Jessica Alba’ over and over again as I drift off to sleep.”
Hey. Never once have I ever claimed to be mature! A little directed dreaming as a method of revenge. What can I say? That’s just the way I roll.
I’m still baffled by what happened next, but this actually seemed to irritate my wife. The next thing I heard was my wife gently and quietly repeating these words as I was falling asleep: “mom … your mother … Beatrice.”
No!!!
She was trying to push Jessica Alba out of my dream. How rude.
This morning I woke up and realized that I did dream and I actually remember it. It went a little something like this:
I had gone back in time with Kirk and Spock. A terrible future was waiting for us and we had one chance to make things right. It was decided that I would be disguised as a Romulan and would sneak onto a Romulan ship. Meanwhile none of us were aware that Jean-Luc Picard was also planning a trip to the same moment in time, and was about to accidentally interfere with our plans. We were going to have to adapt quickly or it would be the end of the universe…
I’m not making this up. That was the actual dream. I must have woken up because that’s all I remember. I do remember thinking while I was dreaming, though, “I’d better remember this, because this shit is good. This will make an awesome movie!” Then I woke up and I have to admit, it all sounds a bit lame.
So I guess now we know what happens if you compromise between mom and Jessica Alba. Your mind doesn’t know how to cope so it settles on Star Trek as a defense mechanism.
Please enjoy the musical selection that our chef has paired with this article.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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