defectivejunk

"I'm going to blow my brains out." Andy, aka Handjob, was not having a good day. He had to show a potential design to the managers, and in the meeting in front of 10 department heads, Henry said the vertical lines reminded him of dicks.

"Look at that, that looks like a dick, you got a little black line at the top and everything, that right there is a urethra man, you really want our customers trying to use the website while they're thinking about dicks?"

Depends what kind of website you're running.

A couple of years earlier, I had a dream that I would get married to this girl I loved; this girl named Shelley. Then a couple of years later, the girl named Shelley decided that dream was a pipe dream. I didn't help her decide. In fact, I was pretty much against that decision. I felt the opposite - that the girl named Shelley shouldn't stomp on my heart and leave me to figure my life out all over again. Try to start trusting people again. Then try to find a girl named Sarah or Amber or Tiffany or Britney who could spend their lives with a guy named Meat.

I found out later that the girl named Shelley didn't decide to stomp on my heart all on her own. She had help from a man named Joe. Joe Something or other. Maybe it was John. Or Sanford. It doesn't matter. His name wasn't important.

What was important was that he was my replacement. I guess he was better than me.

Stop. I already know what you're thinking, because I was thinking it before I wrote this. "Oh this whole thing is just about some girl. Love of his life or whatever bullshit. Who cares? If I wanted a romance novel I would have bought one." Well, it's not. It's not even an anti-romance novel.

This book is about Shelley like the War in Iraq is about September 11. Or like how President Clinton's impeachment was about a blowjob, or about lying under oath. (It was about a chance for a majority Congress to get rid of a popular minority President. Kind of the opposite of today, where the majority Congress refuses to try to get rid of one of the most unpopular Presidents of all time, despite evidence that he should have been gone four years ago.) Or like how Donnie Darko is about time travel. (It's an It's a Wonderful Life through God's eyes, or: How I learned to stop worrying and not destroy the universe I created due to humanity's fuck-ups.)

I'll go ahead and tell you the ending though: I'll never get over the girl named Shelley, and move on to a girl named something else. She was It, and not in a weird way or anything. If I'm gonna do this life thing, I'm gonna have to find another girl just like her. That's pretty much all there is to it. That'll be the end; I'll have to give up. Then again, I am by nature an extreme pessimist.

Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I'll find another nice girl named Rachel or Ashley or Delilah. Maybe I won't spend the rest of my life alone. Maybe I'll just bone them while I keep wishing I was still boning Shelley.

Isn't that romantic?

Yeah. Maybe it will happen soon. And maybe they'll start up the impeachment hearing.

Then the criminal trial. Then the sentencing.

Here comes the bride.

She's got a killer body, legs that won't quit, and an ass the size of Montana. I know I was supposed to end the chapter on "Here comes the bride". That was the perfect ending. The kind I always go for. That emotional impact, the rush, the adrenaline that hits you right before we smash cut to black. But I'm not going to do that this time. Here comes the bride, all dressed in white. Here comes the bridge, I'm gonna jump off. Wahoo wooo! Eat me motherfuckers! Mother buckers! Suck my nipples! I'm gonna doooo iiiiiiiiiit riiiiight now hey it's my decision

The bride was justice there, see. The bride is going to be an old maid!

This book is outsider art. Not because I'm not one of the culturally elite, but because I'm an outsider.

Do you ever get the feeling like you're watching somebody? Like time has slowed down, and they're about to crash headfirst into oncoming traffic and you're just watching and watching and waiting for the impact

you could stop it but it would make you vulnerable

it would make you

so you don't do it you won't do it traffic traffic taffic taffffffyyyyyyyyyyyy bang bang

Where the hell is my other tooth??

I had a dream about a Motel 6. Shelley was there. She drank a glass of water out of one those five cent plastic cups they give you. Suddenly she started vomiting blood on the carpet. I tried to help her but it wouldn't stop. It just wouldn't stop. It was all over the room. She was all over the room. She split into a million pieces. A million little pieces all over the hotel room I charged to my MasterCard. A million little pieces of the girl I loved.

They're going to charge me for cleaning up her intestines.

I had to put down a deposit. I'm going to lose it. I'm going to lose it here. They're going to charge me for this. Vomit. Vomit. Vomit vomit. I woke up in a pool of vomit. The room was spinning. It was all over the floor. I had to stop it. I had to stop this.

No more. This is it. This is the end. It's all vegetables from now on. Vegetables and water and bread. And soda, I like soda. Vegetables and bread and soda and ice chips and meat and cheese and potato chips and chili. Vegetables and bread and soda and ice chips and meat and cheese and potato chips and chili and a new career. A new. Fucking. Career! That's it! I've had enough! I have to change something or I'm gonna leave! I'm gonna leave myself for good! You want that to happen! ?

You an ignant ass mafucka mafucka. Shit, boy. Don't call me boy, mafucka. Suck it! Suck my fuckin celery! Suck on them shits! Change my goddamn career! Change my MOTIVATION. SOMETHING OR OTHER. WHATEVER YOU GET THE POINT. CAPITAL LETTERS. BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE LETTER Q. THE Q STANDS FOR QUIT. THE LATER Q. LAQTER.

Shit.

That stopped making sense. Stop making sense !!!

Smash cut.

I mean. Star wipe.

Star wipe. Star wipe! I SAID STAR WIPE ASS WIPE!

86: Never let a friend's eyes wander.

We were in a fast food restaurant, and Brian was staring at a girl's ass because he was terrified of being himself. The girl's enormous boyfriend noticed, and he didn't appreciate it.

I didn't notice until it was too late. I was stuck at the counter.

Rule 25: No pickles.

They had disobeyed Rule 25. It would not stand. It would not fucking stand!!

You should never let your friend's eyes wander. Especially when he should be thinking about dicks. Do you want to watch your friend get beaten to death because he's afraid of thinking about dicks?

Stop. I know what you're thinking. "I'd rather hear his bitching about his woman problems than hear about this gay shit", "thinly veiled homoeroticism". Sorry, but you're the problem. You're the reason Brian was scared of himself. Too afraid to talk about it. He didn't know how to act.

You're the reason I almost watched him get beaten to death in a fast food restaurant. I didn't deserve that. He sure as hell didn't. Then again, Andy didn't deserve to sit through a meeting while hearing his header graphics compared to "big-ass dongs", and then try to use the bathroom while a guy is sitting on the sink eating a Mars bar.

"Hey there Handjob, hurry it up, shake it more than twice and you're playin with it"

Chew chew chew

Brian tried to be someone he wasn't, and it brought him nothing but pain, and problems. The thing is, he knew no one would accept him for who he was. So he figured he at least had a shot at pretending. I thought the same, so I tried it too. It didn't work for me either. She still left me for somebody else.

That's the difference between him and me. We both thought we only had one shot. He just gave up first. I haven't had the chance yet.

Choo Choo Choo

I was on a train a few years ago when my name was something I don't really remember, and I sat next to this guy. He was about my age. I was staring out the window when he came on. All the other seats were full, except the one next to me. I was thinking about Shelley or something, even though I still wouldn't convince her to be with me for about four more years. He quietly came over and asked if he could sit next to me. I nodded without looking at him.

I was busy.

Later, I called my friend something or other, I forget his name since we haven't spoken in years, and yelled at him for a while. I don't remember what about. I think because the train was late and he was waiting for me.

Anyway. The guy that sat next to me - I think he read a book the whole time. I don't think he wanted to be there. I know for sure he wanted to be alone. He looked pretty depressed.

Or maybe it was just me. I don't know.

I wonder how he's doing.

Labels: A Book for Oprah's Book Club, Chapter 11, The Book of 'Job