The Sounds of Douchebag America

Are you guys talking about swine flu?  Jeez, no one even talks about that anymore.  That’s so outdated.  It is pretty scary, though.  I heard it was worse than actual flu; that’s why it’s getting all the attention it’s getting.  I don’t know where I heard that; I think I was at a bar and some really drunk weirdo came up to me and told me, laughing, that I should be terrified of it.  That things will end up like Outbreak or something if we don’t quarantine all the Jews that invented and released the plague.  I don’t know, something like that…but I totally heard it somewhere, and that counts for something.  I mean, regardless of this whole Jew situation, swine flu is not going to stop me from eating pork, or those delicious burritos at, oh, what’s that place called…Chipoatel?  Their food is so good.  I went there with my sister a while ago.  I gave her shit for buying one of those vegetarian bowls where they don’t even give you the tortilla but you pay the same amount anyway.  I mean, less for the same price?  Is she an idiot?  Answer: yes.  Derrr!  Ha, I love that noise: Derrr!  God, calling someone a retard with that noise is just so damn funny.  Hey, have you guys seen that Johnny Knoxville movie The Ringer? It’s definitely one of the best comedies I’ve ever seen.  Everyone’s always talking about Blazing Saddles or Night at the Opera or that one war movie with the red phone even though the movie’s in black and white so you can’t even tell it’s a goddamn red phone…um…well, anyway, it’s all about this guy in the Special Olympics who doesn’t need to be there because he isn’t slow brain-wise, and man oh man, it’s good stuff.  I think Katherine Heigl is in it, too.  She is so hot, man.  There are so many offensive things I could do to her right now, right over this water-cooler right here, if I had the chance.  I know about the whole ridiculous company policy won’t allow me to say them, but, just know that when I see an attractive woman, I have very inappropriate thoughts about her, which shouldn’t surprise you.  It might surprise you if, for example, Jerry said it.  Lord, that guy.  The last intelligent thing to come out of that guy’s mouth is Henry’s cock.  Whoops, I just said that out loud, didn’t I?  Uh oh, I might be in trouble.  Guess I have to go talk to the chairman, who is, oh wait, who is he?  Oh, right, he’s my father.  Wonder what he’ll say to me this time.  I hope he doesn’t slap my wrists too hard; I just have so many things to write up today.

It looked so cool when a waitress would come by my table when I was a girl, and she would ask for our order.  She wouldn’t even write it down on one of those tablets.  She just remembered it.  That waitresses had such a calm, confident, almost stunning demeanor…and she did it.  She brought over our food, having remembered it all.  Sure, she forgot that I had wanted extra cheese on my pizza and that my father ordered tea, but for not putting in the effort of writing it down, it was pretty cool that she at least nailed the absolute fundamentals of what people wanted.  And I thought to myself, “Hmm…she has this really smug, satisfied, calculatedly cool look on her face.  I wonder if it comes from being able to do that.”  So I grew up with the dream of waiting tables.

To keep my options open, I frequented diners and memorized every menu I could.  I would order the different foods to have a visual companion, as it were, to my memorization.  Then the dream came.  I walked into a Kelly’s and told them I was interested.  They signed me on.  From the get-go, I was taking orders without writing them down.  Sure, I may forget that someone wanted their eggs scrambled, or banana pancakes instead of regular pancakes…a lot of details are forgotten in taking people’s orders like that.  But I think it’s more important that I look cool to my customers, just the same way that waitress did when I was little.

I hope one day, some girl will come up to me and say, “I remember you.  You messed up my order a little bit, and I think it’s because you were to cool to bother writing it down for our consideration, to just make sure we got what we were paying for.  I like when people are willing to forgo a simple, polite gesture.  That you would rather look cool instead of being hospitable to a guest…that is, like, super cool.”  I really want to hear those words someday.

I have a whole list of ways to get people’s attention.  I’ll blow a bubble of gum and pop it, I’ll drum a little bit on the water cooler, whistle a song, sing parts of a song loudly, fling a rubber band at you or near you, open the door loudly followed by closing the door loudly, shout “AYYYY!”, bring my ukulele in and strum it (just the open strings, I don’t know how to play it), flick the lights on and off, drop coins on the floor by accident, use the stapler harder than necessary, cough and grunt unusually loudly while I get coffee, shout “Ow!” as if I hurt myself in the hopes that I interest your curiosity, curse as I spill milk on the countertop…that’s just the tip of the iceberg.  I’ve got all kinds of things I do in the office to make sure that, when I enter the break room or the main building, people turn around to notice me.

Why do I do this, you ask?  Well, I don’t usually have anything to say, and if I do, it’s usually just small talk about the Red Sox game or American Idol, or even criticizing the boss’s remarks in staff meeting.  It’s not because I want people to look at me, either, because (1) I have this weird stage fright when a lot of people are looking at me simultaneously, and (2) I’m very difficult on the eyes.  Like, ungodly ugly.  I’ve had this butch-ogre-skin-plague style going for a while; it’s mostly in the facial area, and it turns out that years of white-cream-in-a-jar skin therapy doesn’t help.

Perhaps I want my colleagues to know that I’m around in case they need to ask questions or need help, but I neither have the knowledge base to answer nor the willingness to help.  Hmm.  Well, I guess that extinguishes all the primary reasons why I would concoct a whole list of strategies to get people’s attention…and I don’t have any other reasons up my sleeve…so I guess I have no excuse for my highly annoying conduct.  Oh well.  Hasn’t stopped me before; why should it stop me now?

Hey, guys, what movie is this?  Oh, it’s classic, is it?  Criterion Collection, even?  Oh, Simon of the Desert.  Is that, uh…oh man, that movie was kinda hard to find for a long time.  It’s like a big moment that you can finally see it on DVD.  Wow, that’s…I mean, that’s pretty cool.  I..uh…I…oh Christ, here it comes…

BLAHHHH COUGH ERRRRR HACK, oh excuse me, hang on…No, I want to see the movie, it’s supposed to be awesome.  It’s like a DVD event, I..BLARRRRRGH HACK HACK.  Man, pretty brutal cough today.  Funny, I wasn’t feeling sick at all until you started watching this movie.  Hang on, let me clear my throat for at least ten minutes.  Maybe that’ll help me enjoy my viewing experience a little bit more.

There we go.  Alright.  So, how’ve you been?  No, really, I want to know.  No, this conversation can’t wait.  I need to have it now.  No, it’s important.  Look, can’t a guy just ask how someone else’s day is?  Alright, alright, fine, I’ll be quiet.

So, what’s the better detergent, Tide or Snuggle?  Like, my wife bought Tide even though I had a Snuggle coupon, and she claims it’s better, but…BLAK-EM, ah, excuse me, I don’t have the money for being extravagant with laundry products.  I mean, can you believe the nerve of her?  What’s the difference between Tide and Snuggle?  If my clothes are clean, that’s all I need to know, I…BLAK-EM ACK COUGH, okay, okay…no, I need to get this off my chest.  How long’s this movie?  Oh, it’s only forty-five minutes?  Really?  So you’re saying I would only need to wait twenty minutes before I can resume my vent?  Just twenty?  Is that all you’re saying?  Just twenty?  Twenty minutes?

Nah, I’m going anyway.  Snuggle!  I mean, Snuggle, people!  It’s got a bear on it!  How can you deny a bear?  A bear, I tell you!  HACK HACK COUGH…COUGH…Oh man, this movie’s so good, I hope you’re enjoying it COUGH.

Don’t you love putting little quotes on e-mails?  I especially like Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” you know, the  “I took the road less traveled by / And that has made all the difference” part.  I got it from my high school commencement speech.  And my brother’s commencement speech.  Basically I’ve heard that used in a speech four times, and I thought it was good advice.  And what better place to give advice than at the bottom of an e-mail?  I think perhaps you should take the road less traveled — stray from the beaten path by putting a clever little quote from an Oprah’s Book Club book at the bottom of your e-mails.  Even if it isn’t related at all to the content.  Hey, that’s how I take the road less traveled by.  And it’s made all the difference.  Friends, family, everyone…they’ve changed in their treatment of me.  They don’t speak to me.

I like to switch it up sometimes, though.  My favorite quotes to rotate are, in no particular order: (1) lyrics from songs that appear in Wes Anderson movies; (2) J.D. Salinger, and (3) any line from The Big Lebowski.  I want people to know that they are e-mailing me, not just some bozo e-mail troll that is fiddle-fucking around in cyberspace.  I want my friends and family to not only receive a message from NaziScience42@gmail.com; I want them to know they received a message from me, Lucy Pillingston, a twenty-three year old single woman who loves her songs, her movies, and has a severe drinking problem.  I don’t think the content of my e-mails nor my address itself is enough.  I put myself over the rest the ony way I know how: by quoting something someone else said.  Works for me; just ask the folks at AA.