My brain hurts. It’s not that I’ve been righting any problems, solving crimes, working the Sudoku puzzle, pondering the factors which lead to my next door neighbor being nosy and judgmental or studying about how to do anything remotely worthwhile, I’m just in need of some downtime.
I woke up yesterday morning the way I always do, staring at the ceiling lamp as it swayed to and fro, wondering if the neighbors upstairs are professional porno stars. I’m not sure what kind of stuff they’re into, but it sounds as if one of the two takes a running start from across the room and, I can‘t be sure, but I believe a trapeze bar may be involved.
I decided that I needed a ME day- a day of doing as much or as little as I want…Me, me, me, me, me, me. I got ready and headed out...embarkation on a day of leisure- right after a quick visit to the grocery store deli.
The deli at my corner grocery store is awesome, but I hate the service at the checkout. I patiently waited in line as I learned much about a man who decided to replay his life story to the cashier and, by default, the rest of us. While I‘d rather have waited for the movie version, directed by James Cameron, I found myself an unwanted part of a captive retail audience. I now know interesting facts about this total stranger. I know that he has no neighbors, he lives alone, he collects half dollar coins and old pill bottles (which makes him clinically insane) and he hates cauliflower. I’m not certain that it gets much more random than that.
Upon purchasing my, once, hot soup, ME day was finally underway. First stop…the pub. I required a cup of coffee if I was to be wide awake for a big day on the town.
I take my coffee like I like my women - pale and liquored up. For the life of me I can’t understand HOW my dad drank HIS coffee. He took his with a gallon of milk and the years entire sugarcane harvest.
As I sipped an Irish whiskey, with a shot of coffee, I noticed a couple nearby who were clearly going through a nasty separation. They engaged in, what I would characterize as, a heated discussion about the kids and visitation times.
I’ve never had children- a fact that most likely relieves many people in my social circle- but I felt strongly that I had a solution for the unhappy couple which was nothing short of genius. Why not sell the children into a Chinese slave labor factory and make money on the deal? Working around pesky, tentative visitation schedules seems to cancel out the benefits of having children in the first place. I.e. Someone to mow the lawn, clean the house, wash the car, etc.
With the one-time Chinese slave factory profit, split evenly with your estranged partner, (even though she‘ll probably want 70%, the house and future investment earnings), everyone comes out ahead. Plus, by knowing someone in a Chinese child slave factory, you’d get free t-shirts, tennis shoes and American flags for life!!
The lady friends in my life feel that I’ve been single long enough- perhaps, but how does that have anything to do with my shrewd business acumen? They constantly naysay my ideas and I attribute it to the fact that they mock what they don’t understand. I feel that I would score a decisive win on The Apprentice and I think my friends are just jealous. The guys are solidly with me on this one…unless their girlfriends or wives are within earshot. You’re fired! Next.
A few moments passed as I prepared to move on to the next stop when a lovely young woman pulled up a chair next to me and asked “Whaddaya got for pain.” Other than my life story, I politely told her that I had no medicine on me but the bartender might be of assistance.
The bartender dispensed a couple of aspirins as the young woman asked if we knew a girl named Alex. Apparently, as the woman explained, she was “supposed to give a friend of a friend (Alex) a ride across the lake for a mutual friend’s birthday party- which was being held at her friend’s boyfriends Dad’s house.” Huh??
As I tried to do the genealogy in my head, I inquired if she had any acquaintances on the planet who were not 2nd, 3rd or 4th removed?
Neither the bartender or I knew anyone named Alex so we asked for a description. The description (I’m NOT making this up) was as follows: “She’s average height, about 26 years old, real pretty, brown hair and big boobs.” I immediately offered my services in doing everything humanly possible in order to find this poor, young, innocent lost woman.
I can never follow the friend of a friend of a friend connection. Much like the aunt twice removed…it’s too complicated for me. Listening to this young woman stirred memories of my SAT’s. I always HATED those stupid mathematic scenario problems:
Bill and Sally work with Stu in a factory filled with heavy machinery. They usually eat lunch at work since there are no houses or restaurants near the factory- it‘s located in a bad part of town- plus it‘s a paper factory so it stinks really bad. Sally didn’t bring her lunch today because she didn’t go home last night, opting to stay over at Bill’s apartment instead. Sally and Bill are having an affair, unbeknownst to Sally’s husband, Frank.
The romance fizzled some time back for Sally and Frank, largely because he made some unwise investments and lost most of his money on a multi-level marketing scheme…plus, Frank has a problem in the stiff wee wee department. (stiff and problem being the operative words)
Fortunately, Stu just moved out of his mother’s house (at age 42) and he, being the bachelor, brought leftover pizza. Originally, the pizza measured 16 inches in diameter and was sliced in equal parts, of which Stu only ate three because he became quite enthralled with the Jane Austen book he had been reading last evening.**
**(Stu is currently confused about his sexuality)
Stu kept one slice of leftover pizza for himself and gave the rest to Bill and Sally.
Question: In which direction is cog F rotating on the assembly line machine and how many slices of pizza did Sally and Bill each have?
Answer: The cogs were NOT rotating, as a very angry Frank appeared at the factory and got into a shoving match with Stu. Stu spent a lot of time after work with Sally teaching her how to make ceramic figurines fashioned into the likeness of Cher and Lucille Ball so Frank believed that Stu was having sex with his wife. Unfortunately, Frank shoved so hard that Stu fell into the mechanism which, in turn, jammed the machine. Stu fell victim to an instant and painfully, gruesome death. He ate zero slices of pizza.
Bill and Sally also ate zero slices of pizza since Frank quickly realized that it was BILL who was having sex with Sally…so, he pulled out an automatic handgun and shot them both in the head 7 times as he sang Matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof. Frank then ate 5 slices of pizza, laughing insanely, as the SWAT team closed in on the room.
I flunked math class since first grade but I did okay in philosophy.
So far ME day is not very relaxing. As I prepared to, once again, move on to the next stop, a couple of gentlemen to my left caught my attention. They were engaged in a heated argument about a proposed Mosque at the World Trade Center site in New York. I felt strongly about hanging out for this chat- after all, these guys were committing BOTH of the bar no-no’s: discussing politics AND religion.
I’m no expert, but I do know which battles to fight and when. In this case, loud drunk #2 was built like a stick figure while loud drunk #1 had arms the size of Honda Civics. An example of liquid bravery in action I suppose.
I love when drunk guys fight- they’re loud, passionate and there’s always a chance that they’ll end up in a drunken heap, leaned over the bar crying, apologizing and affirming their love for one another…then one of them will buy a round for the bar and go puke on the hood of a nearby parked car. Most of the time they simply seek absolution from a bystander- in this case…it was ME.
Drunk #1: YOU are crazy, you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about Osama!!! (Looking over to me, restating his case) “He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about dude!!!
Drunk #2: (Invokes the tried and true intellectual response)F*CK YOU!!
Drunk #1: (Invoking the logical retort) Yeah? F*ck YOU Taliban lover…You’re too STUPID to recognize that these people (Muslims) want us all DEAD!!! You don’t know a silent killer when you see one!!!
Me: (Hesitantly interjecting) I believe I know the silent killer
Drunk #1 & 2: WHO??
Me: Cholesterol…the Al Qaeda of the cardio pulmonary system, if you will
I always try to defuse tense situations...another example as to why my friends pay their tabs and quickly leave me behind at moments such as these. I, on the other hand, waited for my free shot of Tullamore Dew.
I understood both sides of the argument but discounted it as drunken barroom ranting…not a lot of substance, peppered with obvious xenophobia. It was clear that one of the drunk guys absolutely HATED all practitioners of the Islamic faith. I really hold no opinion on the subject, as that would require me to think too hard. What happened next, however, was nothing short of accidental comic brilliance. The bartender cheerfully announced that free PORK tacos were being served at the back of the pub. I almost peed my pants.
With that, I ate a pork taco and bid the fellas Shalom…it was time to move on to the next stop. My parents taught me right from wrong, in that right meant to run from insane people. (A lesson that I largely ignored in the relationship department…to my own detriment.)
My friends always chastise because I typically find myself firmly planted amidst nearby unfolding turmoil. I disagree with their assessment- I mind my business and stand quietly, usually working a crossword puzzle. An unassuming demeanor if you will. Kind of like when you’re bored at work and dream up benign search phrases on the company computer which brings up pornographic material. (Note: When using a computer belonging to a rigid, conservative company, one must use benign keywords so that when the manager receives the monthly employee Internet activity report you are better positioned to invoke plausible deniability while being questioned about web activity.
I always tell them that I simply typed in “lace thongs“ because I was searching for a gift for my girlfriend and was absolutely shocked when “Barely legal thong sluts from the People‘s Republic of Poontang“ appeared on the screen. I then helpfully suggest more stringent filters on the company computers so as not to expose employees to such filth. You will appear most sincere if you act as though you’ve been traumatized by the experience and assure your boss that you love your job even though the company could do a better job in preserving a professional work environment where computer filter safety is concerned.
ME day cautiously continues…
As I enjoyed a peaceful afternoon stroll through the city, I happened across two friends who are prominent emcees for special events. They invited me to enjoy a couple of beers at their house and then join them at, what I can only label, “Naked Interpretative Stage Performance” at a local venue.
So far ME day has been filled with nymphomaniacal neighbors, a nosy, judgmental next door neighbor, angry, drunk, politicos, a lost girl and her 2nd removed (sexy) friend, cold soup and the insane coin and bottle collecting hermit. The mere mention of the word “naked” alerted me to the fact that this event could only equal fun. One is rarely unhappy while naked…unless it’s when you’re 12 and creepy uncle Earl is keeping you for the day and he “accidentally” walks into the bathroom six times while wearing aunt Cheryl’s panties and a cowboy hat while you’re taking a bath. Hypothetically speaking of course.
The event specifically involved naked “people” karaoke. There are some things in this world that one simply can not make up…or Google.
As karaoke goes, there were good singers and bad. As THIS karaoke goes, there was good naked and “I believe I just threw up in my mouth a little” naked. However, I saw an attractive young lady who couldn’t sing very well…a point which became irrelevant when she disrobed. Quite honestly I’m not even sure that she was singing…I simply don’t recall.
It’s interesting to note, as a lesson in how small the world in which we occupy truly is, her name was Alex. I suppose she never made it to the birthday party and now I found myself as a 5th removed acquaintance in her circle of friends.
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy ME day, it’s that everything going on around me pretty much made ME day a little too hectic.
I require very little in life, as a matter of fact it’s the simple things that please me. Like the triumphant feeling when you sail through all of the traffic signals before they turn red, finding a $10-dollar bill on the ground. (So what if it's next to the girl scout bake sale table? They should be more careful with their money) I’d like to not be brutally murdered on any given day and if we can fit a cheeseburger and a large order of onion rings somewhere in the fold…I’m happy. The little things in life are nice.
With that, I did what I should have done in the first place…I went to the burger joint near my house to enjoy one of life’s simple pleasures…and it’s charbroiled with extra cheese.
Seems that one of the drunk guys from earlier at the pub had the same idea. With a pile of onion rings towering before me, I wondered if he cared to join me for a discussion about the silent killer.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
