Trevor Noah Show

I went to the Trevor Noah show on Saturday with Nona and them?  The man!  Is hilarious! 

Lemme tell you something!  This sweet is not doing my tongue annnnny justice!  Sparkles taste so different when you’re a little kid.  Right now?  I can’t tell whether my tongue is burning or melting into my gums?  It must be the traces of peanuts I just noted that it contains.  I’m not allergic to peanuts, far as I know.  But I am allergic to believing that a hard, see-through, orange, sweet.  Contains traces of peanuts?  Look?  Peanut brittle?  I can easily understand.  Peanut butter?  Peanuts, themselves?!?  But Fruit Mix Flavoured Sparkles?!?!?!?  Is someone sitting somewhere in the factory randomly throwing peanuts around?  ‘Cause I see this “warning” on most things and even if I wanted to?  I could never ever tell you how a peanut or even a spec of a peanut got into rice.

You see now?  I was alllll ready with the, “lemme tell you something!”  And then I felt the sensation of the mysterious “peanut traced” fruit sweets on my tongue and I got lost.  Shew!  Okay.  Finally here.  Now?  Lemme tell you something!  Doesn’t that just command the readers’ attention?  Like, “Tingalingalingaling”.  Ofcourse you’re not reading then?  You’re at a fancy party bored outa your mind, thinking, “Who-tf can I throw peanuts at,” but?!?!  But you have no choice but to stop and turn when you hear someone tapping a metal spoon on a wine glass, huh?  It’s an attention grabber.  It’s the same as whe............what? 

That hurt, -_-  Alright.

Let me tell you something.  I get formal when I get my feelings hurt.  I can’t understand why, ‘cause this is my blog, if I wanted to take lon....okay, okaaaaaay.....I’ll get to my point.  I was just saying that it’s m.....aaaaaaaargh! 

Poinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnt????????????????????????????  I’m tryna find my point.  Poooooooooooint!?!?!   When my flow is interrupted like that, then I................there you goooooh!  Found it!

Lemme tell you something!  If I were a joke?  I’d want to come outa Trevor’s mouth!  (Can someone put that in my next life request?  After the butterfly.  No, wait.  He might not be around by then.  Before the butterfly!)  Just?  Just write it on a page.  Serviette, even.  Nothing  fancy.  Write, “I, Stacey Kell, aka, the Rambler, hereby state that I want to come back as a joke!  And I want Trevor Noah to tell me.”  ­^_^  <----------------  Check it out!  Made my smile italics so now it looks like it’s windy on my page, doesn’t it?

He was so funny, that after the show Nona asked me, “Did you see how that guy was hitting his girlfriend?”  I looked at her thinking, “WTF?!?!?  There was a fight and I missed it?!?!  I didn’t even see people scatter and shit?  What if I needed to run and I didn’t know?”   I had no idea what she was talking about and I was very happy about that too.  Violence makes me nauseous.  If you knew my family, you’d say, “GASP!”  But by the sounds of things?   Every time Trevor delivered?  He delivered.  This is why I always say, softly, “Get to know your partner well!  Before you go with him to a stand-up comedy show.”   

I don’t know about you?  But?!  Don’t keep tapping me on my shoulder when you’re talking to me.  Don’t smack me when you hear a joke that’s so funny that it increases your chances of spending the night in a prison cell for gbh.  Consider me.  Think of the fact that I have a sense of humour.  Annnnd pain!  I love to laugh ‘til the tears roll down my cheeks.  I really don’t appreciate someone turning my “happy” tears into “%&$#!!!!!  You just stung the hair offa my %^^($# thigh” tears.  It’s rude.  And painful and a mood spoiler.  How would you like it if I punched you in the eye every time I heard a joke?!  Like HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!  BAMMMMM!!!!!!!!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!  BAMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!   Uhhhhhh-huh?!?!  No? 

That poor woman.  I know what we should do.  All of those smack-laughers or laughing smackers or whatever you wanna call them?  We should arrange a show just for them.  Get Trevor up on that stage and let them happily beat the crap outa each other.  We will never see them at another comedy show again.  Can you picture it?  LOL!!!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!  A bunch of battered and bruised people coming out of the theatre after a stand-up comedy show?  Bent and limping.  Barely able to groan.  Looking #%$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ed up!  That was “messed” up for those of you who don’t curse. 

For those of you who do?  It’s whatever you want it to be.