Talkin’ Turkey With Tim Babb
You, The Reader: “Tim, are you going to post ANOTHER of your stupid old letters?”
You, The Reader: “…F***!!!”
This is a letter to the 13 year old (who was probably 14 or 15 by this point). This is April, my first year in college. I think that’s all you need to know. Let’s jump in
Right off the bat, a 19 year old dude is referring to a 15 year old girl “toots.” This does not bode well.
Bet you thought I’d never write. Well, I was sitting here in my room listening to you, Nicki, Betsy, and I learn the words to “Memories of You,” and I thought, “Hey! I haven’t written Jen! I’d better do it right now!” And so….I am.
Wait…so it’s April, you’ve been away at school since September, and this is the first letter you are writing to her?
Worst. Pen Pal. Ever.
I hope all things are going well for you at this time. However, since I can not accurately speak to that point, I will have to engage in my favorite activity, talking about me.
I am rapidly approaching the end of my first year in college and I have to say that college is every bit as much fun as you’ve heard. I must apologize for taking so long to write, but it seems people are always dragging me away from my computer to go out. By the time I get back, it’s 2 or 3 in the morning and I’m way to tired to write. But for some reason, I seem to have grabbed a rare night to myself tonight.
Um, I’m going to have to call B.S., young Tim. No one was dragging you anywhere. You were so happy people included you in their plans that you nearly pooped yourself. But beyond that, the entire first semester you had the social life of Howard Hughes. Plus, we’ve all seen the letters you’ve been churning out to all these other gals. You have nothing BUT time to write, you dirty liar. I’m GLAD the adult version of this girl didn’t want to contact you, jerk face!
I have made a plethora of new friends in college (no girlfriend yet…some things just never change).
I swear, in almost everyone of these letters, I’m bitching about not having a girlfriend. What is up with that?!
Right now, I’m listening to Barry Manilow. I’m actually quite a fan of his now. My stepmother gave me his greatest hits tape and I finally heard the song, “I Write the Songs.” I love that song! I love it so much, I actually took the time to type out the lyrics and tape them on my dorm room door.
Yes. You read that right. Without a trace of irony, I printed out the lyrics to Barry Manilow’s I Write the Songs (Which, incidentally, he did NOT write) and posted them on my door for all to see. As if to say, “Here’s where the loser lives.”
I know I’m older than a lot of the folks who read this blog, but I am NOT old enough for that song to be popular while I was in college. In fact, it was released before I was even born. Barry Manilow was already a punchline at this point, and not only was I printing out his songs, I was bragging about it to a girl 4 years younger than me. This is my life, people! I’m gonna die one day and God is going to ask me about this. What am I supposed to say?! WHAT?!
Speaking of my dorm room, I think I owe it to you to describe the environment in which I am typing this letter. It is a very small room, about 3/4 the size of your bedroom. Crammed in this room is a TV, VCR, computer, printer, desk, night stand, sink, mini-refrigerator, microwave, single bed, and about 100 video tapes. It’s kind of cramped for a dwelling, but it’s quite spacious for a phone booth.
There’s that joke I used in Emma’s letter. I hope Emma and Jennifer don’t compare letters before they set them on fire to cleanse their respective houses of Manilow boy.
My classes are going fairly well. I’m taking General Psychology, Beginning Acting, Introduction to Advertising, Microeconomics, and General Biology. We’re starting to get prepared for finals already even though they’re a month away. I get out of school on May 21st. If you think that’s early, my friends at BYU will be out by the time you get this letter (they didn’t get a spring break though). I’m somewhat looking forward to summer but at the same time, I don’t want school to end.
Zzzzzzzzzz…huh?! What?! Sorry I dozed off there for a second. No, Tim, please continue. This is fascinating.
After rereading the letter up to this point, I have realized that it is not especially funny.
We noticed that too. You are aware that backspace technology exists, right?
So I will now interject some humor so that you will know that this is unmistakably the work of Tim.
Here comes the magic. Check out this young comic mind showing off what he can do…
Chicken Monkey! Enema! Where are my sausages! Cheese!!! Tap dance naked on the roof of the World Trade Center!!! I can’t eat that! That’s not a duck! So big, it could eat New York…if it had a mouth!
Well, with that being said, I must bid you farewell. No, no…fight back those tears, this is tough enough as it is. We must be strong. So I leave you now but as I go, I have one parting thought for you: In the words of the Tasmanian Devil, “Garblaaaaargh Grableableableableech!!!”
If I’d written the entire letter as the Tasmanian Devil, would it be 10 times better?
…or 100 times better?