U Stoopid

                 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 café 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!”