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Me and My Farts, Diarrhea, Womanizing and Gunplay (The Anti-Moi W/O)Jan 14 '04 (Updated Jan 15 '04) Write an essay on this topic.
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It’s a bad time to be posting anything in the Writer’s Corner (or WC) which is currently earning its shared acronym as a Water Closet. (Please take a good long piss here— everyone else on the site is doing it!!) The lame surveys masquerading as write-offs and the predominantly lame entries masquerading as material worthy of sharing with anyone other than one’s immediate family (and even that’s cruel treatment toward people you purportedly love), are basically flooding the avenues and byways with contentless content. Because this is the WC, virtually all entries garner automatic Very Helpful ratings, ensuring that the same lists of questions (e.g. Favorite brand of gum) that were hijacked from e-mail chain letters, and the endless miles of slothfully secreted answers will all be submerging their categories in banality for a good many years. Fame (whether justified or not) has a way of rolling down a hill like the proverbial snowball, collecting everything else in its expanding path, good, bad, or ugly. The popular “Getting [not in the least] To Know Each Other” W/O is obviously such a force of nature. Perhaps a better metaphor: it is a massively dense black hole that is swallowing us all into its epicenter of innocent good “fun” and bland, consumer-questionnaire wholesomeness. Because it is approaching the 20 Things About Me record of entries (and will surely surpass it soon) the black hole is all the more “attractive” (gravitationally speaking). My own subversively spirited entry, and those of kris-kochanski, munkus and the Circle Jerk members— all are just so many tiny stars subsumed whole and digested into the fattening belly of the beast. “Here I am!!” “No, me! Here I am!!” “Hello? Anyone there? Gosh, Sarah and Adam are pretty!” “Hey, you prefer Crest toothpaste, too?!” A small resistance to the Death Star of Bland Goodness has been under way, sprung to inaction by its uncharismatic, “dog-ugly,” veiny-footed and gay leader, Munkus of Down Under. Help fight the dark side (SarahLovesAdam and the evil empire)* with this merry band of squares, losers, geeks, nerds, outcasts, untouchables, misfits, wimps, pariahs, exiles, and other nice people like you and me. To do so, observe the rules here. As Gandhi once said (and I paraphrase), “It is better to curse the darkness than to light one candle in order fill out a personal information-collecting survey.” Now please turn off your cell phones and beepers, and no flash photography. Ladies and gentlemen… on with the show!! Everyone is prettier than you. Discuss. I have disproportionately enormous legs from near-constant unicycling for 23 years, and the result is a body shaped like a frog splayed out on a dissecting board. These legs have both awed and repelled women, depending upon their predilections. To their credit, they have received numerous catcalls from both sexes, but then I’ve also been branded “freak” and “grizzly bear.” Currently, I am balding from the crown outward, but my hair was always wispy. My large nose is not as bulbous as a serious alcoholic’s, but nearly so. It is, however, considered very attractive… in Japan, where I was told my “high” nose was beautiful. Great: tell that to the Western Hemisphere, ladies. Throughout high school, I was forced to amplify my goofiness to compensate for the obvious fact that I would never win anyone by sheer looks alone. Then again (and without sour grapes bitterness), I actually prefer it that way. So there, Susan, Rachel, and Kelly! What is the worst, most unforgivable thing you have done to another human being? Gosh, that’s a tough one. The first two that leap to mind simply will not make it to this venue. No. That kind of honesty is just silly. But this is a fun story: Before the age of 24, I thought I cared very much for everyone’s feelings and was the most sensitive man on the planet. As it turned out, I was incredibly immature, self-centered, and blind to obvious truths. So, in the period after college, I just happened to “fall in love” with three women at the same time. I kept my dealings with each separate in my mind, and praised and wooed each for her own wonders and special qualities. At the time, one was considered my “girlfriend”… let’s call her A. Another, B, was a singer for whom I was passionately writing music in early classical styles set to Renaissance poetry. Another, C, living in Germany, helped organize a tour for me and B in three European countries. I decided it would be a great idea to bring A on the tour… Well, you do the math. A+B+C = major claw scratches between all parties, suicidal intimations, bitter recriminations, outright accusations in public, hysterical meltdowns, and sarcastic laughter. (A side note: the concerts went fine, and we got lots of excellent press.) What kind of sexual inadequacies do you suffer? We're all friends here and promise not to tell. I suppose the only thing that comes to mind is that my polygamous tendencies (see above) do not jibe very well with the communities I’ve lived in. Moronically, I abstained from sowing my wild oats during college because I had a girlfriend throughout the entire four years. That didn’t mean I wasn’t abjectly tempted to the point of tears on numerous occasions. I suffered Christ-like tortures that were self-inflicted, and complained in my shallowness that it was my girlfriend’s fault I could not be with other girls, and then proceeded to make everyone I was remotely attracted to miserable (and my girlfriend, psychotic). That’s not strictly an inadequacy, but it’s something. How were you bullied at school? Why did you deserve it? I wasn’t bullied. In my French grade school and then in High School, I kept out of cliques and was mainly appreciated as a clown. If toughs or bullies approached me (rare), I would fight back, but more routinely, any jerks or jocks who started trouble were subjected to verbal and psychological humiliation. That’s the family way. Who did you bully at school? If you did not bully anyone was it because you were too much of a wimp yourself? (See above.) I was not a bully, but there was one kid in primary school who everyone abused one way or another mainly because he was very fat. I regret that, though I was sometimes friendly with him— I think I was his only pal— I occasionally succumbed to peer pressure from all the other boys, and heaped silly epithets on top of theirs. Poor guy. I always wonder what ever became of him. What is your most disgusting bodily feature? Be graphic and as lurid and perverse as you can without being physically ill. Though vomit may be a good sign that you're on the right track. My smell, after extensive exercise, can be overwhelming, even to myself. At one point in life, I was also a very nasty farter. I mean, the smell was reprehensible. Maybe some change in diet (not as many Pop-Tarts?) helped. But people used to avoid riding in cars with me. In that same period, I had a very poor stomach, and could be sentenced to three or four trips to the bathroom with explosive diarrhea by any number of foods. The all- time most disgusting and abject moment in my life came when food poisoning and diarrhea caused me simultaneously to spout copious amounts of liquid from either end, the majority of the oral spurt landing on my own naked body which had been wrenched to the toilet seat for an hour. Update, Jan. 15. My friend Mark reminds me that I occasionally get these stalactites of mysterious origin in the inner folds of my tonsil. I suspect they are small chunks of partially chewed peanuts, but by the time they’ve festered in my throat for a few days (see, they’re maddeningly difficult to remove), they give off the putrid stench of the cave of Lazarus. Dead pig fart and exhumed corpses give off a nicer bouquet than these tonsillar guests. Happily, they rarely visit anymore. Present three examples where your self esteem has hit an all time rock bottom and the alcoholic beverages you drank to cope. I don’t ever drink any alcohol, so that kills this question. And in truth, I haven’t had self-esteem problems so much as various bouts of teenage ennui, anomie, and depression. Now, I occasionally suffer from more adult forms of the same afflictions, which now take the form of questioning my worth against the likes of Bach and Shakespeare. Generally, though, I’m shockingly well-adjusted. Give an example where your heart was so broken you did nothing but eat icecream, cuddle your old soft toys and watching Jerry Springer crying out at the trailer trash "They may have their problems but AT LEAST THEY'RE LOVED WWWWWAAAAAAAAAA". After my girlfriend of four or five years started seeing someone else, I was certainly very low for a while. A while could mean two years, but the serious heartbreak was at least a solid six months of intermittent weeping, laying in bed for days, ill-will toward mankind, and near-religious forms of begging her to come back to me. There was ice cream, and there was bad TV. But honestly, there was also a lot of growth and realization of my own shortcomings and responsibility in the demise of things. Side note: we’re still close friends, and I have no hard feelings. How many times, on average, since were you born have your parents had wild, animalistic sex involving common kitchen utensils? Bonus Points awarded if you caught them in the act. Probably zero. Thing is, I hardly remember things before the age of nine, and it was at that age my parents got divorced. You could re-apply the question to my parents and their new spouses, but who cares? How many times have you been caught by a spouse/child/boss looking up internet porn? In short, none. Give some examples of random malice you performed, preferably at strangers. 1) Age 12: With some friends, I stuck firecrackers in dog shit and exploded the piles on strangers’ country homes. Good times. 2) Age 15 or 16: I shot my insane and insanely rich friend in the neck with an air-rifle filled with wet toilet paper. I figured the TP would disperse and make a mess on his body, but it stayed together as a missile and stuck halfway into the back of his neck. (Note: He deserved it, believe me.) 3) When some guy’s car alarm was blaring through the entire night, I collected a stew of molasses, honey, and glue and poured it over his entire car. THE END * [Note: Contrary to ironies and innuendos, I honestly have nothing against Sarah, her love, her Adam, or her immense WOT (another snowball, there?) It’s the mass hysteria surrounding her transplanted survey and what I take to be the impressive gap between what is applauded as fun/interesting/great and what truly is fun/interesting/great that I find so dispiriting and, well, dispiriting. For the record, my favorite brand of gum is Bubbalicious. Oh, and two pillows, thank you for caring.  |
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