Corn Nuts
The other day after work, I took the 4 home and stopped into the Atlantic Center Target.
I go there on week nights to avoid the sight of 1) mothers beating, I mean disciplining their children in the Health and Beauty Aids aisle and 2) throngs of identically styled, anemic looking Greenpoint girls fighting over the last size two, Alice Temperley for Target jumper.
While there, I threw all the items on my shopping list into my cart. I don't know why I never meet that Special Someone in Target. I mean, I'd fuck me if I saw what was in my cart:
Alka Seltzer
Nair Hair Remover for Sensitive Skin
Dr. Scholl's Moleskin Inserts for Callous Prevention
Tampax
Midol
Tilex Mold and Mildew Remover
Corn Nuts
Efferdent
That's right. Efferdent. I buy the economy size box. And yes, I still have all my teeth. See, I wear a mouth guard at night because I grind my teeth like a recovering meth addict their first week into rehab. I wake with horrible headaches, the severity of which the night guard helps only minimally. But it helps a little at least. Which is why I deign to wear it.
In the morning, it smells like bad breath and cigarettes, even though I've savagely brushed and flossed my teeth the night before. It immediately goes into a bluish pool of Efferdent.
Anyway, I was in line, reading about Britney's recent three hour hair weave session while the kids waited in the car and thinking how very happy I am that that girl is still alive because she does more to make me feel better about my own mental health and shitty life choices than all my shrinks combined, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
It was Simon, an "artist" I dated a few years ago, when I first moved to New York. I use the quotes because Simon had a trust fund as big as his talent was minimal. He had no problem, however, identifying himself as an Artist, when asked what he did.
Why I dated him, I have no idea. I was lonely and horny and he knew who Wire was. In those days, that was enough for me to endure the seriousness with which he took himself and his "art."
"Hey!" he said. "How are you? I haven't seen you in so long!"
That's because I stopped pretending to read, or even care about, Art News, I thought.
I eschew, abhor, detest pretension, particularly artistic pretension more than anything. Because of this, I'm embarrassed of the fact that I ever dated this shitheel.
Regardless, I certainly didn’t want a guy who'd once had his penis in my vagina to think that I'd since lost my fucking teeth.
So I just smiled and said hi and hoped he wouldn't look in my cart.
But he did.
"Ha ha," he snickered. "Efferdent? You lose your teeth?"
It took everything I had not to retort, No, but did you finally manage to keep an erection?
Yes. Simon had problems keeping wood. It sucked. Because, believe me. I sucked. A lot. And still, limp rope.
As I stood by my cart in Target, looking up at him, I started thinking, probably quite irrationally, What if I had lost my teeth? Would this fuck still be making fun of me?
I stared down at my Alka Seltzer and Efferdent and I thought of all the guys I've dated who had flaws I overlooked, ignored, forgave. And in return for this, made no attempt to overlook, ignore, or forgive mine.
And I thought about how much I wished I could somehow, someday find the words to say to them in real life, what I write about them in the safe anonymity of a blog, with their names changed and details blurred to protect their fragile egos. Even though they never did the same for me in real life.
And I just started getting angrier and angrier.
I opened my mouth.
I was going to tell him what a bad boyfriend he'd been; what a shit lay he'd been; and how no, his finger paintings of dwarves break dancing on top of washing machines were never going to set the art world on fire and if they did, I was going to vandalize his trust-funded studio by tacking up, horror of horrors, dorm room-type posters of Monet's Water Lilies.
Then I saw the Corn Nuts in my cart and suddenly, all the fight drained out of me.
They just looked so...ridiculous, sitting there next to the Tilex Mold and Mildew Remover.
"No," I muttered finally. "It's for my, um, mouth guard. I have to, you know, wear it at night."
"Oh," he laughed. "Well, that's good. You've still got your teeth. Hey, did you hear that I was in the Whitney Biennial last year?"
I go there on week nights to avoid the sight of 1) mothers beating, I mean disciplining their children in the Health and Beauty Aids aisle and 2) throngs of identically styled, anemic looking Greenpoint girls fighting over the last size two, Alice Temperley for Target jumper.
While there, I threw all the items on my shopping list into my cart. I don't know why I never meet that Special Someone in Target. I mean, I'd fuck me if I saw what was in my cart:
Alka Seltzer
Nair Hair Remover for Sensitive Skin
Dr. Scholl's Moleskin Inserts for Callous Prevention
Tampax
Midol
Tilex Mold and Mildew Remover
Corn Nuts
Efferdent
That's right. Efferdent. I buy the economy size box. And yes, I still have all my teeth. See, I wear a mouth guard at night because I grind my teeth like a recovering meth addict their first week into rehab. I wake with horrible headaches, the severity of which the night guard helps only minimally. But it helps a little at least. Which is why I deign to wear it.
In the morning, it smells like bad breath and cigarettes, even though I've savagely brushed and flossed my teeth the night before. It immediately goes into a bluish pool of Efferdent.
Anyway, I was in line, reading about Britney's recent three hour hair weave session while the kids waited in the car and thinking how very happy I am that that girl is still alive because she does more to make me feel better about my own mental health and shitty life choices than all my shrinks combined, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
It was Simon, an "artist" I dated a few years ago, when I first moved to New York. I use the quotes because Simon had a trust fund as big as his talent was minimal. He had no problem, however, identifying himself as an Artist, when asked what he did.
Why I dated him, I have no idea. I was lonely and horny and he knew who Wire was. In those days, that was enough for me to endure the seriousness with which he took himself and his "art."
"Hey!" he said. "How are you? I haven't seen you in so long!"
That's because I stopped pretending to read, or even care about, Art News, I thought.
I eschew, abhor, detest pretension, particularly artistic pretension more than anything. Because of this, I'm embarrassed of the fact that I ever dated this shitheel.
Regardless, I certainly didn’t want a guy who'd once had his penis in my vagina to think that I'd since lost my fucking teeth.
So I just smiled and said hi and hoped he wouldn't look in my cart.
But he did.
"Ha ha," he snickered. "Efferdent? You lose your teeth?"
It took everything I had not to retort, No, but did you finally manage to keep an erection?
Yes. Simon had problems keeping wood. It sucked. Because, believe me. I sucked. A lot. And still, limp rope.
As I stood by my cart in Target, looking up at him, I started thinking, probably quite irrationally, What if I had lost my teeth? Would this fuck still be making fun of me?
I stared down at my Alka Seltzer and Efferdent and I thought of all the guys I've dated who had flaws I overlooked, ignored, forgave. And in return for this, made no attempt to overlook, ignore, or forgive mine.
And I thought about how much I wished I could somehow, someday find the words to say to them in real life, what I write about them in the safe anonymity of a blog, with their names changed and details blurred to protect their fragile egos. Even though they never did the same for me in real life.
And I just started getting angrier and angrier.
I opened my mouth.
I was going to tell him what a bad boyfriend he'd been; what a shit lay he'd been; and how no, his finger paintings of dwarves break dancing on top of washing machines were never going to set the art world on fire and if they did, I was going to vandalize his trust-funded studio by tacking up, horror of horrors, dorm room-type posters of Monet's Water Lilies.
Then I saw the Corn Nuts in my cart and suddenly, all the fight drained out of me.
They just looked so...ridiculous, sitting there next to the Tilex Mold and Mildew Remover.
"No," I muttered finally. "It's for my, um, mouth guard. I have to, you know, wear it at night."
"Oh," he laughed. "Well, that's good. You've still got your teeth. Hey, did you hear that I was in the Whitney Biennial last year?"
posted by forksplit at 1:05 AM
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