I like to think that I’m a smart person. I’m not. I create
these imaginary scenarios in my head where I think that everything will just
work out. Like just last December I was like, “I want to be home for Christmas
so I’ll just quit my job and drive across the country and it’ll be fine.” So my
friend, Nelly and I decided to do just that. And everything was fine except that my credit card
declined in Tennessee and we stayed at Motel Ratchet with axe murderers on the
loose.
Or later on the drive
when I was writing checks to pay for my gas and beef jerky, I would say to
myself, “Oh. I had to prepay $30 for this gas but only $26 will fit in my tank.
I’ll just squeeze the rest into my car.” Gasalloverme.
My best
friends from Disney were Nelly, Airielle, and Jen. Jen is one of THE MEANEST
people I’ve ever met. She’s seems all nice and sweet and then when your
metaphorically dressed like you’re asking for it, she pounces with her words
and is all, “Whaaat? I’m not mean. But fo real doe, Brad, you look like a
hunchback.” And she doesn’t let you get away with anything. The second you make
a mistake Jen pops up like some horrible, Hispanic leprechaun to inform you
that, “You stupid. No but seriously doe, you duuumb.” So the other day when the
stove caught on fire and I said to myself, “What a great photo opportunity!” a
little Jen in the back of my head scoffed, condescendingly poked my nose and
said “Stoopid stoopid.”
Megan just watches the fire. I take a picture.
And I
say to myself, “These jeans look so great on me. When is my credit card payment
due? You don’t even have to worry about whether your boss wants to sleep with
you.” Jen, “Brad, your butt looks good. You gotta ba-donk! Seriously doe, your
butt is big."
I just found out the other day that I had to file taxes. My parents and I were
eating lunch and the conversation went something like this-
Me: Oh, so my taxes…
Dad: Yeah you gotta take care of
those.
Me: I don’t know how. So maybe I’ll
just skip them this year. I’m not going to get that much money back anyway.
Step-mom: You realize that the
government isn’t a bank. You realize that you have to file your taxes. You realize that I didn’t give birth to
you so your idiocy has no reflection upon me or my wicked plot to rule the
kingdom.
By that last part I was checked out and trying to figure out
how to use my chopsticks in a way that accentuated my slender Ethiopian arms.
So I
say to myself, “Nobody will notice this zit. Everything about me is stunning
and radiant.” Jen says, “Whoa, Brad is that a huge zit on your face? You need
to take care of that. No fo real doe. That thing’s gigantic.”
One time I went to Barnes and Noble and the
wind caught the door of my car and it totally busted up the door of the car
next to mine. So I call my dad and he tells me to go inside and ask one of the
employees to announce the plate of the car over the intercom. Well that’s not
the answer I wanted to hear so I called my mom and she goes, “Well did anybody
see it?” And I said “no” so she told me to just park my car in a different spot
and pretend it didn’t happen. So I do and I’m on my merry way just drinking a
mocha in the cafĂ© thinking, “Everybody wishes they could be me. I get away with
everything. My hair is the best.” Then, my dad calls and asks what happened.
Me: Oh, hey, yeah. I talked to the
people and they were totally cool with it. They were really nice and they
totally didn’t care.
Dad: Brad, I am so proud of you.
You did the right thing and it all worked out.
Me: Yep.
Just a
few days ago, I ran out of gas when I was only five miles outside of the city. I
DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW THAT HAPPENED! One minute I was like, “Ugh, why is this
drive so long. I have plenty of gas. Only my right butt check hurts.” And the
next minute I’m stranded with %6 battery left on my phone. So I pulled off onto
the exit and decided to take a nap until someone called me back to come save
me. Ten minutes later two cops and an ambulance showed up being like, “Are you
dead?” And I was like, “No.” Apparently, someone drove by and was worried about
me but not worried enough to stop and check themselves. Officer Dennis is nice
enough to drive me home and on the drive I’m all, “See! You have the best luck!
The police are awesome! You’re so lucky. Mwah. Love you.” But when I get back I
realize that I had locked my keys in my car.
So once I say to me, “Be yourself.”
And Jen says, “You dumb.”
A couple weeks ago I decided that I had to get
off my fat ass and do the dishes so naturally I put on some music. Then, the
drain clogs and I get really anxious because I hate the garbage disposal so
much. I think it’s dark and scary and it’ll hurt me. It’s like the house’s
vagina. So I turn it on and I hear this horrible noise. I look and there’s a
fork being blended by the vulva. So I’m like, “Stop being an idiot. Just reach
inside and pull it out and it will be fine. Everything is fine. Nothing can
hurt you because you’re a white, male, American. You’re fine.” I reach inside
and I try pulling it out and discover that the fork is somehow wedged and
stuck. And just as Whitney Houston starts belting, “AAAANNND IIII-EE-IIIIII
WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOUUUU,” I realize that I hadn’t even turned off the garbage
disposal. I hadn’t even turned off the
fucking garbage disposal. Whatthefuckiswrongwithme. A labia almost ate my
hand.
What can we learn from the mentally
challenged, delusional gay kid? And I say, “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.
I’m so thin. Everything will work out. Let’s just go to Vegas! Omg I just threw
up in someone’s bed. Oh, well!”