You’ve ruined me, Jim Carrey

Okay, so, do you ever feel really cool? Like so cool that you add a little extra swagger to your step? This normally happens when you’re listening to music or singing a song. A sexy song.

Why is it that it’s always this moment when you trip?

Like in college when I was walking down the steps in my apartment building listening to “Sexyback” and then tacitly decided to myself that I would indeed bring a little sexy back. So I sway my hips and walk with sexy purpose. Then I trip over my own feet, tumble down the stairs like a broken slinky, and crash into my neighbor’s door. I could hear the sitcom laugh track as I hobbled away on my busted knee.

Which brings me to a very real fear I have: TrumanShowphobia.

You diabolical bastard...

TrumanShowphobia is the technical term for the irrational fear that your life is being filmed and watched by millions of strangers. It’s a real fear and not one to be laughed at.

I mean, think about it. Stuff happens all the time that is just way too coincidental. You run into the person you were just badmouthing. The obscure song plays on the radio that you were just talking about.

Do you ever feel like the cosmos is laughing at you? MAYBE IT IS!

But Lisa, I say to myself in my high-brow inner monologue voice that sounds a little like Mr. Howell from Gilligan’s Island, surely you realize that your life is way too boring for people to give any manner of shit about. Look at you; look what you do. Essentially nothing. You would have been canceled long ago.

But! (my other inner monologue voice retorts) How do I know what these outsider people like to watch? Maybe they’re all futuristic and get a kick out of watching my life because it reminds them of the simpler days of yore, and I am just a poor peasant girl. Remember Manor House on PBS? Remember how much you liked that?

Lisa dear, you have been to the Grand Canyon. That shit has got to be hard to fake.

Um, it’s not like I touched it. It could have been a fancy projection. How am I to know what kind of technology this other world possesses?

And on and on and on ad nauseum…

Anyway, my point is, when I have little stumbles like that, I’m always afraid that the studio audience watching me is just laughing. It seems ripe for that sort of treatment. I hope they at least add a Dick Van Dyke noise. They owe me that.

Also, I’m terrified they can hear my inner monologue somehow.

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