Wait For It… a blog by Andy Ross

Wrong Number Text

Posted on June 8, 2011

- At Smith & 9th. Home soon. ILY.

- Whoops. That text was meant for the wife. Sorry.

- Embarrassing.

- Especially you being my ex.

- Awkward. Sorry.

_ It’s fine. Forget it.

- You good?

- Sorry. Promised I wouldn’t text u anymore.

- Hope yur good.

- Last text. PROMISE.

_ Good. Be well.

- Home now. Told my wife we’d been texting tonite. She’s upset. Wants to talk to you.

- Sorry.

- Tried to reason with her, but u know how women are. Ha ha.

- Srsly, she’s very upset with you.

- Don’t worry. Refused to give her your number. She locked herself in the bathroom.

- Yikes, right?

_ Robert, it’s been 3 years.

- I know I know I know. Sorry she got upset.

- Should blow over soon.

- U still doing art? Can’t find much on Google lately.

_ Robert ...

- Sure sure sure. Sorry.

- Just talked to Linda. Turns out she’s pregnant.

- So that’s big news, huh?

- Wow, a baby.

- Big news.

_ Congratulations to you both.

- She’s still locked in bathroom. Must be the hormones.

- Remember when we broke up ‘cause I wanted kids & you didn’t? That seems so weird now.

_ Go talk to your wife, Robb.

- You’re right. Talking with Linda thru the door now.

- She seems better. Stressed about work/maternity leave.

- Understandable.

- Yeah so…

- You still with that guy? The actor?

- Bill? Brad? He seemed weirdly tall for you.

- Linda’s coming out now. Should probably stop texting.

_ Yes. Do that.

- Wanna grab coffee sometime? Catch up on stuff? I could bounce some baby names off you, ha ha.

- No response?

- Is yur phone still on?

- Okay, well, hope your good.

- Remember to update Facebook when you have new photos of your art. Or you. Or whatever.

- Your bike tour looked fun btw.

- Oh, and I guess the name is going to be Oliver. Linda’s grandfather’s name.

- OK, well, goodnight. Thanks for texting.


Insider Jokes

Posted on December 1, 2010

As winter sets in, I worry about spending too many nights inside with my wife, Colleen. I’m afraid without outside contact, my sense of humor is getting too insider-y, too niche.

I'll give you an example: Yesterday at work, my boss found out I write comedy. So, of course, he asked me to tell him a joke. I said, "Alright, well, I haven't performed stand-up in awhile, but this joke that gets a big reaction from my wife." And, I pulled up his shirt and put my cold hands on his belly.

He didn’t laugh at all. It’s as though he totally didn’t understand the premise. Doesn’t he have a sense of humor? I put my cold hands on his warm belly. How is that not hilarious?

So, I went in for the follow-up joke, which is a tickle fight. It’s a classic “tag,” as they say in the comedy biz. A one-two punch. Again, he must not have gotten the joke, because no laugh.

At home, this stuff gets huge laughs. Mostly from me. Colleen never laughs at my hilarious jokes. Even the extra funny, super hilarious jokes. Like, sometimes, when she’s doing the dishes, I’ll stand behind her making farting noises with my mouth. Or, if she’s trying to read, I’ll climb in her lap and make farting noises.

Okay, so those jokes are amazing, right? Never a single laugh from Colleen. (Only huge laughing jags from me.) But, at least she properly acknowledges the jokes—she’ll push me away, she’ll roll her eyes, she’ll pinch me. An eye roll tells me, “Yes, I admit that your joke is very droll. You are indeed a rare wit, and I am humbled to be your audience. But, I can’t laugh right now, because I’m busy doing our taxes.”

Did my boss roll his eyes? Did he cross his arms and purse his lips? No, he just calmly walked into his office, closed his door, and emailed Human Resources to set up a meeting with me tomorrow. That is not someone who appreciates a good cold-hand-on-a-warm-belly gag.

I’m just glad I didn’t waste my spot-on impression of my apartment building’s super on him.


The Birds and the Bees

Posted on September 20, 2010

If you think it's awkward telling your kids about the birds and the bees, just imagine what it was like having "the talk" with my wife about the bird and the bee and the other bee.

At first, she didn't know what I was saying. Had there been other bees? Was it the same bird? What does the second bee do while the bird about the first bee were doing birds-and-bees stuff?

So, I carefully explained that I had never done anything with another bee before. I had only watched a “documentary” on Cinemax about bees. I just thought an additional bee might be something fun to incorporate into our nest/hive. Would she be interested in that?

Turns out she was very interested. I guess my wife had been fantasizing about bird-on-bee-on-bee stuff for a while. She even had another bee in mind. Which was awesome. Then she told me who it was.

And I was like, "Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa. Bees in this scenario are lady bees. Why would a bee be her dance instructor, Hector? That doesn't make any sense." Then we got into a long argument about stingers, which I think shows a distressing literal-mindedness on her part.

Anyway, huge fight. Super late night, and we never ended up settling on the proper bird to bee ratio.

We did tentatively agree that next time the bird could flap his wings while the bee makes honey. I'm not exactly sure what that metaphor means, but knowing my wife, it's not going to be a dirty/fun as it sounds.