Everything Was Fine Until Whatever Page 4

  WTF QT Sup

  He spelled his own name incorrectly, P-o-l, and said, “That’s the way I pronounce it.” It didn’t match his identification card, I told him, and his paperwork was probably going to get lost.

  “My paperwork,” he said, “is inconsequential. I’m here to get my nipples pierced.” His attitude earned him some deliberately lost paperwork. I called him up to the counter to give him some new questionnaires to fill out. And a dried out pen.

  “I see my forms right there under that Chinese take out box,” he said. I told him that this was a common occurrence, that we can’t always keep track of paperwork that is filled out inaccurately, and to try not to take it personally. Sometimes these things just get lost in the system. We’d be with him as soon as he turned in the new completed forms.

  When he took his seat, I looked over his original paperwork. Pol Few, 32 years old, male. He even sounded hot on paper.

  The chief body piercer, Stan, came to the front desk and asked if there were any appointments, and I said no, not at the moment. I said if he wanted to, he could go grab lunch or run an errand while things were slow.

  I watched Pol scribble on his questionnaire, trying to get his pen to work. He had the body type I’m usually attracted to, not fat or muscular, but round, and taut.

  Pol came up to the desk and handed me his new paperwork. He asked me when he could expect to be seen and I explained that the chief body piercer had an emergency to attend to, but should be back shortly. I asked that he please bear with us so that we may pierce his nipples with the care and efficiency we are reputed for.

  Pol flipped through a tattoo design magazine. I stared at his reflection on my computer screen, imagining my body parts in his. Lips in nostrils, feet between buttocks, neck between thighs, slippery mouth in crook of neck.

  My biggest problem was that I could make mistakes over and over for years and still not ever figure out what I’ve figured out. My other biggest problem was that I hadn’t been naked with a man in over ten months. A lot can happen in ten months. New underwear had been bought, gotten old, and been thrown away during that time. The exact length of my pubic hair began to seem trivial. My friends suddenly felt they had the right to be surprised and upset if I didn’t return their phone calls within eight hours. My mom asked me if I was a lesbian. My condoms expired. I started watching David Letterman every night and then had to watch it just to get to sleep. I finally found a florist I liked and she died. I read the Diary of Anne Frank and got upset. I completely forgot about my phone bill for five months and then remembered and paid it and didn’t feel different in any way about anything.

  The Protagonist

  Recently, I saw a movie about a protagonist and her love interest who is perfect for her in every way, but who she is destined never to meet. Viewers go back and forth between the protagonist’s painfully lonely life and her love interest’s equally depressing and pointless existence. In one scene, we see a close-up of the protagonist as she moves her lips around for an extended amount of time, as if searching the alphabet for a letter that feels like it will begin the sentence she wants to say but doesn’t quite have the words for.

  Then she says, “Pepperoni,” and someone hands her a slice of pizza.

  The general sense I got from the movie is that life is futile.

  About halfway through the movie, the love interest is completely dropped from the film with no explanation.

  The protagonist ends up with someone who thinks she’s really hot.

  TIRED OF WASTING MONEY BY EATING HEALTH FOODS? THAT'S A PROBLEM

  TOO MANY BILLS? SUICIDE!

  HAVING A TOUGH TIME FINDING A DATE? WE CARE!

  LIKE WHAT YOU SEE? EMAIL MY COUSIN HELENA - WE HAVE SIMILAR BONE STRUCTURE!

  DEPRESSED AND/OR UGLY? WE DON'T KNOW!

  EDIBLE UNDIES STUCK IN HAIR DRYER? YOU MUST HAVE A COOL LIFE!

  TROUBLE GRASPING INFINITY? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY!

  COLLEGE GRADUATE? JOIN THE MILLIONS JUST LIKE YOU!

  SUICIDAL? SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU - I'M GOING DOWN A WATER SLIDE!

  IDENTITY CRISIS? WHAT'S UP!

  DRUNK? DO SOME TEXT MESSAGING

  DREAMT OF LITTLE ALIENS RUMMAGING THROUGH YOUR TRASH WHILE YOUR SISTER MORPHED INTO A SNAIL CREATURE? THAT'S SO INTERESTING - CAN YOU TELL ME THAT STORY AGAIN?

  Manipulation, Energy Drinks, and Time Travel

  Seriously, I will become a TV executive just for you. I’ll buy up all the television stations and make sure my executives only hire program managers who only hire casting directors that only cast moderately attractive girls. We’ll make the moderately attractive girls famous, me and my crew. You’ll never see a girl on TV prettier than me.

  I’ll buy chocolate covered cherries and drop them into your mouth from skyscrapers as you unknowingly walk by. I’ll put my name on them somehow, so you know they’re from me. I’ll teach you Braille. Tongue Braille.

  I’ll be yours forever. I won’t even look at other guys. I won’t answer their phone calls even if they’re business related. I won’t manipulate them. Unless you want me to. I can treat guys badly for your entertainment. I will lead them on for months, answering their text messages using an increasingly sexy vocabulary. I will call them ‘Beast’ in private and then, at a time you determine is right, I will humiliate them irrevocably. I will laugh at their serious comment about how they feel about me, mispronounce their name, and then the people from What Not To Wear will come in and ask if they want to be on What Not To Wear. I will coordinate it so that the people from What Not To Wear come in at the right time. I’ll record the event with my personal video camera so the video editors from What Not To Wear will have more humiliating footage to choose from.

  I can manipulate guys more subtly, if you’re not into reality TV and everything. I can say like, “Eee-yeahhh,” after they say something, like people do. I can be condescending. I can breathe in deeply and raise my eyebrows while they talk to me.

  I’ll cancel Netflix, I don’t know why, but I swear to god I’ll do it.

  Problems

  Among other things, Jessica knew the names of all her friends by heart. She knew when to use nicknames and when not to. She knew how important the difference was.

  Whenever she had a kitten she ignored it. She didn’t want to get too attached to its cute kitten form. By the time it became a cat she had completely abandoned the idea of ever being close to it.

  Jessica let her friends know things about her personal life. She told people when she felt drunk, for instance, if there were people around and it was appropriate to say such a thing.

  She wanted to write an email to someone she once knew. She wanted the email to say just his name, and nothing else. She thought she would become very emotional if she ever received an email from him with just her name in it. It seemed so powerful.

  She just wanted him to know she still thought about him and thought about his name.

  There were things she had said to him that she had never said to anyone else. There was a time she let him express how strongly he felt for her over the phone while she remained silent. He had never done that before.

  “I have a boyfriend,” she said finally.

  “You didn’t tell me,” he said.

  And she called him again a few months later, but it wasn’t the same.

  Jessica pronounced words very lazily. She had other bad habits. She misused words. She threw around compliments. She whispered her name when introducing herself to people. She treated people badly if they were expecting her to. She didn’t know how to be close to felines, but we already went over this.

  She called her friends on the phone at night and asked if they would talk about themselves until she fell asleep.

  I accidentally shat on a person once. There, I said it.

  Girls’ Guide to Boyfriends in Bathrooms

  You are in the bathtub, lying opposite one another. You start slipping down into the water, but you are stopped, vaginally, by your
boyfriend’s foot. You realize this is the first opportunity you have ever had to pee on his foot without him noticing.

  I think it’s sad that they only sell the kind of shirts I like at Disneyland.

  I think it’s sad that they’re making me work on Christmas.

  And that all the other states seem so far away from California.

  And that no one has ever heard of Wyoming.

  And that fingernails don’t grow in vibrant colors.

  I $ You

  Buy artificial inseminations for you and your four closest girl friends. Make sure the sperm donor is the same for all five of you. Remain friends throughout your pregnancies and your children’s lives. Decide whose kid is best.

  Legally adopt your brother’s child. Live with him and help raise the child. Explain to others how that isn’t incest.

  Have a kid and don’t name it. On its fifth birthday, let it pick out its own name. Save money by insisting that the privilege of naming oneself is a valuable gift.

  Gather five good boyfriends. Have sex with each of them until you get pregnant. After childbirth, give the baby a paternity test. Marry the biological father.

  Get artificially inseminated by your brother. Explain to others how that isn’t incest.

  Get pregnant with your boyfriend. Simultaneously, hire a surrogate mother to carry a baby made with your egg and your boyfriend’s sperm. See which baby turns out cuter.

  Donate your eggs to curb the costs of all your abortions.

  Tell your kid about blow jobs before you tell them about sex.

  Be the surrogate mother for your grandparents. Abort the baby at the last minute.

  Play a Russian Roulette Pregnancy: Get five sperm donors, only one of which is a desirable candidate for a biological father, and toss their sperm donation cylinders in a top hat. Choose one randomly. After childbirth, try to figure out whose baby you have.

  Pretend you’re a prostitute but only have sex with one customer. Once you’re pregnant, sue for child support.

  Get artificially inseminated by a ten-year-old. Explain to others why that isn’t pedophilia.

  Get artificially inseminated by your son. Name the resulting baby after yourself.

  Tell people you’re ‘pro-abortion’, not ‘pro-choice’.

  Get pregnant at the same time as your sister. After childbirth, switch kids. Switch back when they’re five. Ask them if they missed you.

  When you’re fifteen, get pregnant and then sue your parents for not explaining sex to you.

  Get famous. Donate your eggs and see who notices their kids’ resemblance to you.

  Get pregnant and go to an abortion clinic. Allow yourself to be persuaded to keep the baby. Demand child support from the pro-life activists.

  You and your boyfriend get two sets of clones. When the clones are old enough, tell them each to reproduce. See if the offspring is identical.

  Leave your baby at the hospital.

  Cry loudly at your mom’s funeral until someone agrees to adopt you.

  Marry someone with the same last name as you. Go through the name-changing paperwork anyway.

  Give your kids legal first names that are traditionally nicknames: Rob, Billy, and Becky.

  Get pregnant. Artificially inseminate the growing baby inside of you.

  Be the surrogate mother for your best friend’s baby, and she for yours. After both childbirths, determine which baby you’re most drawn to emotionally.

  When your friend is drunk and blacked out, get her artificially inseminated. Don’t tell her.

  Give abortion coupons to your friend as a baby shower gift. Say, “Preparation is key.”

  Put your baby up for adoption. Ten years later, marry the baby’s adoptive father. Act like a step-mom.

  Fill your daughter’s hope chest with condoms, makeup and morning-after pills.

  Encourage your sister to get artificially inseminated by someone hotter than her husband.

  Convince your sister to let you get artificially inseminated by her husband.

  Cheat on your husband with your marriage counselor.

  Make a few clones of yourself, simultaneously. Hire illegal immigrants to be the surrogate mothers. Die before the childbirths.

  Be the surrogate mother for an awful ex-boyfriend’s clone. Give the clone Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.

  Fall asleep during sex. Sue your husband for raping you.

  Choose a sperm donor who maintains an afro.

  Ask your child to pick its favorite parent.

  For your daughter’s twelfth birthday, buy her a mood ring and sausage flavored condoms.

  Take photographs of your miscarriages. Put each of them in a scrapbook next to the photographs of the objects or people that you suspect caused the miscarriage.

  Allow a homeless man to impregnate you. Insist that he have partial custody of the resulting child.

  Kurt and Courtney

  I realized I was in love with Andrew after I saw him shirtless at the 2nd Annual Kurt & Courtney themed Pool Party. He had a wet thermal tied around his waste and smudged lipstick and he smoked a cigarette melodramatically, but I saw him touch his chubby stomach insecurely, and suddenly I wanted to protect him. His stomach seemed inviting, like I was invited. The drug jokes got boring and everyone started talking sarcastically about Pro Wrestling. At one point, at the punch bowl, I said to Andrew “I love you,” and he said “I love you, too,” and we walked away from each other.

  I was drunk and threw a pool toy from too far away from the pool and it hit the foot of a girl who was sitting at the edge of the pool. She swore at me belligerently and Andrew suggested I be more careful. He said it nicely and in-character but I suffered internally for the next hour, which probably helped my costume. He didn’t deserve me. All the Courtney’s wore their ripped fishnets into the pool and threw their blonde wigs at each other and Andrew was in love with all of them but me. I wanted to kill myself so I did, with a water gun full of vodka straight into the mouth.

  Aphorism

  There are no ‘right’ answers, just long boring ones and short funny ones.

  Life is Time Consuming

  My friend Andy always makes jokes about being in love with me. I think he jokes about it too much for it to be a joke.

  I just called Verizon Wireless Customer Service and flirted with the Customer Service Representative and he quickly transferred me to a female Customer Service Representative, and I was very polite to her even though I felt humiliated.

  I’ve been sending emails to this guy I used to babysit. He seems interested in the garage punk rock 60s Beatles scene, which I find really surprising.

  My friend Dane comes over and we talk about math because he studies math. In my head I always exchange the math words for sex words, but I don’t think he gets it. He just thinks I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m trying to find a way to make a sexually suggestive diagram for him for Valentine’s Day, not that I’m interested.

  I just checked out the mailman. We just made eye contact. Oh shit, I think he’s coming over here to deliver a package.

  My friend Ked buys me any food we eat when we’re together. When I’m annoyed with him I insist on paying for my own food.

  Sometimes on the bus I make men fall in love with me by looking out the window and thinking very unnecessary, negative things about them.

  I just accidentally licked my lips while maintaining eye contact with a gentleman on a skateboard. There’s a name for when that happens.

  Acronyms To Expedite Conversation

  BYOBF

  Bring your own best friend

  TIJLTEODC

  This is just like that episode of Dawson’s Creek

  TIJLTEOF

  This is just like that episode of Frasier

  TIJLTMABL

  This is just like that movie A Bug’s Life

  TIJLTMA

  This is just like that movie ANTZ

  DYW2DB2NOIDK

  Do you want to drink beer tonight, or
I don’t know

  FL

  Fried labia

  TRG

  That’s really great

  NAJKJK

  Nice ass, just kidding just kidding

  LOLNL

  Laughing out last night’s lasagna

  PT

  Posh tosh

  WWF

  Whatever whatever forever

  MMJCANIFC

  My mom just called and now I feel crazy

  MMJCAMMRSATE

  My mom just called and made me really scared about the economy

  ISATE

  I’m scared about the economy

  YKWIM

  You know what I mean

  ITAL

  I’m talking about love

  TIJLTSFHM

  This is just like that scene from Home Alone

  TIJLIHAWKGIMMFD

  This is just like in Home Alone when Kevin goes “I made my family disappear.”

  IFLWHA

  I feel like watching Home Alone

  CSM

  Communal sex mattress

  RUSI

  Are you sad inside

  PAB

  Poop ass butt

  HHAYIG

  Hi how are you I’m great

  AW

  Anyways whatever

  Pfeiffer

  I’m telling myself not to finish my novel until I get some real living done. But the novel finishes itself nightly. And I bawl to every single movie now.

  My novel keeps ending in a way that I don’t want, and I have to erase it. It always ends like the movies end. Everything comes together succinctly. In the end of my novel, Pfeiffer comes in out of nowhere and starts proclaiming things, starts making everyone feel very emotional. It’s hard not to feel emotional around Pfeiffer; she’s a very serious actress. But my novel is about two people sitting on a dock eating a sandwich together and throwing bits of sandwich into the water. It’s clear that she doesn’t belong, so I take her out.