The Game
Saturday, January 05, 2002
I live in a three-bedroom garden apartment on the wrong side of Western Avenue with my three best friends from college. My three friends live in the bedrooms, and I live in the walk-in closet. Between us, we have four beds, three desks, three computers, two jobs, one television, one couch, a reclining chair, and no girlfriends. The living room is so small that the recliner only reclines when we open the door to the walk-in closet. We believe that there is a small kitchen somewhere in our apartment, but we have never located it.
It is, by all measures, a sad life, redeemed only by the game of I Will. We invented I Will in college, but have since perfected it through hours of careful strategizing. The game begins when someone says, "I will," and then agrees to do a certain something for a certain sum of money. An example:
"I will," I say, "lick the cat for five dollars.""Four dollars," my friend Dean says."Three dollars," Will offers.And so on, until Scott takes a shot of tequila and runs his tongue across the entire length of our cat for a nickel.
It is through playing "I will" that I have learned the monetary value of certain unusual goods and services. Everything in America is for sale, from bananas to Congress, and there's no reason that public humiliation should remain a non-profit enterprise. I've collected this handy price guide in the hopes that I might be able to do for embarrassment what the Blue Book has done for used vehicles. I hope you find it useful.
Sticking your head in the toilet and flushing (known in middle schools throughout the nation as a "swirlie") - fifty cents
Drinking sixteen fluid ounces of tap water in Matamoros, Mexico - Four dollars and fifty cents.
Standing outside of a stranger's house holding a boombox over your head that is playing "In Your Eyes," a la the movie Say Anything - twenty cents.
Purchasing a large tub of Vaseline, a live lobster, and a 12-pack of condoms at the supermarket, and then announcing to the cashier, "Daddy's gonna have fun tonight" - one dollar, plus cost of said items.
Shaving your entire body - six dollars, plus one free Polaroid camera with film, for evidential purposes.
Standing on the corner of Milwaukee, North, and Damen - the heart of Chicago's artsiest neighborhood - for an hour wearing a sandwich board that reads, "Fur is SEXY!" - two fifty.
Covering your bare foot in fresh cat litter, and then allowing the cat to pee on your foot - Two dollars
Proposing to a complete stranger--who is both too tall and too wide to be considered genuinely beautiful--using the ring you gave your former fiancée, who dumped you unceremoniously and left you to live a life of quiet desperation in a walk-in closet - Ten cents.
Actually giving the ring to the random girl, despite the fact that she insists she is not really ready to commit her life to a stranger - priceless.
It is, by all measures, a sad life, redeemed only by the game of I Will. We invented I Will in college, but have since perfected it through hours of careful strategizing. The game begins when someone says, "I will," and then agrees to do a certain something for a certain sum of money. An example:
"I will," I say, "lick the cat for five dollars.""Four dollars," my friend Dean says."Three dollars," Will offers.And so on, until Scott takes a shot of tequila and runs his tongue across the entire length of our cat for a nickel.
It is through playing "I will" that I have learned the monetary value of certain unusual goods and services. Everything in America is for sale, from bananas to Congress, and there's no reason that public humiliation should remain a non-profit enterprise. I've collected this handy price guide in the hopes that I might be able to do for embarrassment what the Blue Book has done for used vehicles. I hope you find it useful.
Sticking your head in the toilet and flushing (known in middle schools throughout the nation as a "swirlie") - fifty cents
Drinking sixteen fluid ounces of tap water in Matamoros, Mexico - Four dollars and fifty cents.
Standing outside of a stranger's house holding a boombox over your head that is playing "In Your Eyes," a la the movie Say Anything - twenty cents.
Purchasing a large tub of Vaseline, a live lobster, and a 12-pack of condoms at the supermarket, and then announcing to the cashier, "Daddy's gonna have fun tonight" - one dollar, plus cost of said items.
Shaving your entire body - six dollars, plus one free Polaroid camera with film, for evidential purposes.
Standing on the corner of Milwaukee, North, and Damen - the heart of Chicago's artsiest neighborhood - for an hour wearing a sandwich board that reads, "Fur is SEXY!" - two fifty.
Covering your bare foot in fresh cat litter, and then allowing the cat to pee on your foot - Two dollars
Proposing to a complete stranger--who is both too tall and too wide to be considered genuinely beautiful--using the ring you gave your former fiancée, who dumped you unceremoniously and left you to live a life of quiet desperation in a walk-in closet - Ten cents.
Actually giving the ring to the random girl, despite the fact that she insists she is not really ready to commit her life to a stranger - priceless.
Nine Girls I've Kissed and What I Learned about Them from Google
Saturday, January 05, 2002
My third grade girlfriend Jennifer Keene is now a network news anchor in Ontario.
Holly Brown, who once told me, "that was the best orgasm I ever had," and then paused a long time before adding, "with you," became a housewife. She's had four kids in forty-two months.
Katie Manning, despite the fact that I sent her two coffee makers for a wedding present with a note that read, "So you can both have one when you get divorced," is happily married to a doctor in Boston.
Mary Jacobsen, who left my toaster oven on the side of the road in Soldotna, Alaska to make room for her new boyfriend's stuff, is a consultant in New York. Which serves her right.
Marie Ponzillo is now the third string Baltimore Raven. I don't mean a third string player for the Baltimore Ravens. I mean the actual Raven, as in the mascot. There are three: Edgar, Allen, and Poe. She's Poe.
Madeline Podnar, who once told me, "you're like a hot big brother," is now a junior in college.
Catherine Holder is a masseuse in Portland. Her web site describes her massages as "sensual," but frankly I remember them as needlessly long.
Laura Holinger, who kissed like a snake, with her tongue darting out from behind closed lips, became, curiously enough, an exotic-animal veterinarian. She was recently on Animal Planet.
Tiffany with no last name couldn't be tracked down, owing largely to the fact that I don't remember her last name, but if you happen to know a 25-year-old Tiffany who went to Eagle's Nest Camp in Brevard, North Carolina when she was 10, please have her send me an E-mail.
Holly Brown, who once told me, "that was the best orgasm I ever had," and then paused a long time before adding, "with you," became a housewife. She's had four kids in forty-two months.
Katie Manning, despite the fact that I sent her two coffee makers for a wedding present with a note that read, "So you can both have one when you get divorced," is happily married to a doctor in Boston.
Mary Jacobsen, who left my toaster oven on the side of the road in Soldotna, Alaska to make room for her new boyfriend's stuff, is a consultant in New York. Which serves her right.
Marie Ponzillo is now the third string Baltimore Raven. I don't mean a third string player for the Baltimore Ravens. I mean the actual Raven, as in the mascot. There are three: Edgar, Allen, and Poe. She's Poe.
Madeline Podnar, who once told me, "you're like a hot big brother," is now a junior in college.
Catherine Holder is a masseuse in Portland. Her web site describes her massages as "sensual," but frankly I remember them as needlessly long.
Laura Holinger, who kissed like a snake, with her tongue darting out from behind closed lips, became, curiously enough, an exotic-animal veterinarian. She was recently on Animal Planet.
Tiffany with no last name couldn't be tracked down, owing largely to the fact that I don't remember her last name, but if you happen to know a 25-year-old Tiffany who went to Eagle's Nest Camp in Brevard, North Carolina when she was 10, please have her send me an E-mail.