Catchphrasing Rob

I need a catchphrase. Media slogans are cool; I’m always amazed what I can learn from media campaigns. I want people to learn things from me. I want them to react.  So I think that’s what I need: a catchphrase of Rob-ucation.

 

Two years ago I learned from McDonalds what people like to do with their hamburgers when they’re alone in dim lights listening to soft music.

 

“Big Mac? I wanna hit that!”

 

Really? I guess it does take all kinds.  I’ll just have the toss salad please.

 

Yesterday I was a little moody.  Work was busy, and I spent most of my time rushing through it to go to my Bible study. When I arrived, I found that they’d given up meeting for lent.  What a coincidence.  I’d decided to start attending for lent. 

 

Great.

 

The worst part was that I even cut into my Pirate Queen time to get there. We had a hello/goodbye conversation that was just long enough for me to apologize: I was irritable. I told her that I was sorry before I said anything damaging. Preemptive apologies are my specialty. Unfortunately, I was so distracted that in the process of advanced groveling that I forgot dinner.  Irked and drained, I pulled up to the church, saw the steeple, opened the doors and found no people. 

 

GAAAHHH!

 

I had an itching suspicion something was wrong, because I growled, frothed, and thumped my Bible.  That’s not the normal Rob behavior.  Seething in my car, I listened as the radio gave me the answers I needed.  According to a local fast-food ad, my problem was that I was hungry. My affliction was known in this ad as “the common crabs.”  And the restaurant promised a cure.

 

Whew, what a relief! I only have crabs—and common ones at that. I was worried. I thought I might have something serious.  Now all I needed was to scratch that itch, and I’d be good.

 

I called the Pirate Queen to let her know my discovery.

 

“Eh-woh?”

“Hey! It’s me!”

“Hi! Uhm, you know I love hearing from you, right?” I hear a rustling shuffle noise in the background.

“Yeah, that’s why I called.”

“Uh-huh.” She takes a deep breath, “You do know that I love hearing from you more before 1am right?”

“Well it’s only---oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot the timezone thingy.”

“That’s ok. I’m awake now. What’s up?”

“I have crabs!”

“Excuse me?” I heard fumbling. She dropped the phone. I think she was reaching for the light. I think that was the breaking glass noise I heard.

 

The conversation didn’t go so well after that. I spent the next hour explaining why she should still come to California in June.  By the end of the call, my crabs were tugging at the short and curlies of my rage. I knew I needed something fast. I didn’t want the fast food quick cure sold on the radio, so I stopped at the grocery store before going home.  The vegetable aisle offered a healthy alternative. My crabs might like that. 

 

A smiling fruit guy in a smock appeared around the corner offering a wave and a banana, “Hi Sir, can I help you?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “I need something for my crabs.”

His visage shifted. Putting away his banana, he took a step away from me, “Aisle 7.”

I smiled. I didn’t care about his demeanor, so long as he helped mine. “Thanks!”

 

A lady fondling melons shuffled to one side, leering as I passed.

 

Aisle 7 didn’t offer much help.  It was the drug aisle.  What a waste of time! I came for a simple crab cure, and now I’m worried I might have to nix the whole idea. I’m starving. My crabs could reach an uncommon state really soon. I don’t know what cures uncommon crabs! Penicillin?

 

Nyquil sat on the shelf beside me.  I shrugged.  According to their ad, they cured a barrage of ailments so that I could rest.  Maybe rest would be good for my crabs.  Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I needed to soothe the common crab. I grabbed a bottle and shuffled towards the front of the store.

 

There I found only one checkout open. Even worse, the lady in front of me was restocking her bomb shelter. This was going to take forever. My crabs were rioting. The shelter lady looked back at me and smiled because the guy in front of her was writing a check.

 

“Cold?” she tilted her head and smiled sympathetically.

“No, crabs.” I shrugged.

 

She apparently sympathized more than I expected.  She cleared her stuff and let me go first.  Nothing like human kindness to take the edge off of crabs.  I rubbed up against her in appreciation.  She shrieked thanks and ran off.

 

Finally I got home with my Nyquil and downed the bottle.  Within a few minutes it began working on my crabs, and my world blurred.  My mind wandered and I considered the “crab” campaign.  I wanted a campaign of my own.

 

I’m not sure if crabs really are the best approach for me though.  As an ex-husband who once told his wife that “twilight was her time if day.” I know quite a bit about misinterpretation.  That’s why I think I should get myself a cool catchphrase. After last night’s experience, I don’t think “I’ve got crabs” is my best introduction.  But what do I say? What says “Rob” in bright bold neon letters?

 

I’m not really all that original especially on a Nyquil crash, and my crabs have returned so I’m a little distracted.  Maybe for now I should just run with the McDonald’s slogan. I could call the Pirate Queen first and test the waters.

 

“So how’s Persephone?”

“I wanna hit that!”

“Uhm, excuse me?”

 

Like all other great Rob plans, this one might need some tweaking.