Saturday, April 15, 2006

Of Nipples and Women's Underwear

My suggestion: resulting in a hastily pierced third nipple

“Hey, dude, you’re bleeding through your shirt.”

“Oh, shit. I need to change my gauze.”

“Are you okay, man? What did you do?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Come on, man. You’re bleeding through your shirt.”

“Yeah. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Don’t want to talk about it? I just admitted to you that I like to wear women’s underwear to work.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to get that image out of my head.”

“I’m just saying that we can tell each other anything, man.”

“Not this. It’s too stupid.”

“Women’s underwear, man. Right now. Behind this thin layer of denim.”

“Jesus.”

“Just laying it all out there, man. You can trust me, you’ve got something on me.”

“Okay. But this is against my better judgment.”

“So is wearing women’s underwear.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Finally.”

“First of all, you should know that I have a third nipple.”

“What? You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious. I have a third nipple.”

“Can I see it?”

“Do you want to hear the story?”

“Not as badly as I want to see the nipple.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to see it. Not right now.”

“Come on.”

“I’m done. I’m not telling you this story.”

“Okay, okay. You can show me later.”

“So I have a third nipple. When you have a third nipple, you have a choice. You can embrace it or you can reject it.”

“Which did you do?”

“At first I decided to reject it.”

“Reasonable move.”

“But then I saw how much it would cost to have it removed.”

“Yeah, I would expect a nipple amputation to be expensive.”

“It was.”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I decided to embrace it.”

“Good call, man. Good call.”

“Put your camera phone away.”

“Just one picture?”

“No.”

“You suck.”

“Anyway, I decided to embrace the nipple. I mean, it was the one thing that set me apart. It made me unique. How many people do you know with three nipples?”

“Including you, one.”

“Right. So I started thinking about what ‘embracing’ the nipple really meant.”

“You said, ‘Embracing the nipple.”

“And I thought that simply letting it exist wasn’t enough.”

“What?”

“Well, just having it was what made me different. If I was to embrace it, I had to do something more.”

“Something more?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“Like a piercing.”

“Ouch.”

“Just wait.”

“With my new-found self confidence, I ran off to find a tattoo place that also does nipple piercing.”

“That’s not a sentence you hear every day.”

“I found a couple of places, but they wouldn’t do it.”

“Why not? You can’t tell me that people that work in a tattoo shop were freaked out by a third nipple.”

“Nope. There was even one guy who had a tattoo of a third nipple.”

“Then what was it?”

“Well, it’s a third nipple, so it isn’t as well formed as the first two.”

“I see.”

“So it would be a bit tricky to pierce.”

“Are you sure it’s even a nipple?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a nipple. It’s just not your standard nipple.”

“And these places only do standard nipples?”

“Basically. They told me that it wouldn’t be safe to pierce that nipple. They didn’t want to take the risk.”

“Oh man, I really want to see the nipple now.”

“No you don’t. Let me finish.”

“Go ahead.”

“I didn’t really see how piercing my third nipple could be dangerous, so I kept looking.”

“Good call.”

“Right. This is where I kinda lost my mind.”

“Because you were thinking rationally up to this point.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I found a place that would do it.”

“Of course you did.”

“It wasn’t the best place in the world, but it looked like they kept their equipment clean so I figured it would be okay.”

“Just like a Kia dealership.”

“So I had it done. It was pretty painful, but I had never had a nipple pierced before so I just thought that was how it was supposed to go.”

“Did the guy that pierced you at least speak English?”

“Yes. As a second language.”

“You should have just slammed it in a car door, man.”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of this.”

“Okay, go on.”

“It was fine for a few days, but then it started getting red and puffy and tender.”

“Don’t take any offense if I puke.”

“I iced it and put some antibiotic cream on it, but it didn’t seem to help.”

“So you went to the doctor?”

“Not yet. One night I rolled over on it and it felt like it exploded.”

“Oh my God. I’m going to vomit.”

“I looked down and it pretty much had. Like a pimple. It was obviously infected.”

“Then you went to the doctor?”

“Yes. I went to the doctor.”

“And what did he say?”

“That he needed to remove the nipple.”

“So you removed the nipple?”

“Yes. I came straight here afterwards.”

“So you’re bleeding from what used to be your third nipple?”

“Yes.”

“I guess your first instinct was right.”

“Reject the nipple.”

“Reject the nipple, man.”

“Yeah.”

“You should get that as a tattoo.”


Your suggestion: stolen clocks

Friday, April 07, 2006

Kilograms are Key and So is the Wine Selection

It had been an especially long day at the Industrial Machinery and Technology Conference. I had peddled an obscene amount of catalogs and pamphlets regarding of our new industrial sealer called “Excelsior” to a bunch of stodgy purchasing managers for a good twelve hours. Many of them were interested in the new product and its reduced friction coefficient, but with the economic downturn and never ending corporate belt tightening, I was still worried about meeting my annual quota. Alas, the day was over and I’d be returning to home the next morning. I collected my various sales materials and demonstration video and headed back to my “suite” on the fourth floor.

As I entered my tastefully decorated, albeit hypoallergenic room, at the Courtyard Marriott, Tucson I began to turn my attention away from work and to Ryan and Sarah’s upcoming “Wine and Cheese Soiree” on Saturday. I fished through my briefcase to find the cutesy invite that Sarah had assembled out of construction paper and some sort of wine bottle shaped confetti to verify the time.

Apparently, the party was at 7 p.m. and I was supposed to bring “something to share.” Christ, as if not meeting my quota for the year wasn’t enough to worry about, now I had to buy some fancy cheese at Whole Foods for $23.50 per kilogram (because kilograms are key with the socialistic, vegan granolas that work there) to share with her judgmental friends who will measure my worthiness based on the stinky bacteria loaf I present for consumption. Why couldn’t Ryan have married Julie, she was ten times more fun than Sarah and would have never subjected anyone to a “Wine and Cheese Soiree.”

I was distracted thinking about Julie when I reexamined the invite. Upon further review, I began to suspect Sarah had worked hard on all of the invites...except mine. It was clearly an afterthought, the handwriting was a smidge better than illegible and her normally masterful work with a glue gun and glitter seemed rushed. I suspect she wasn’t going to invite me because of the incident at their wedding, but Ryan must have insisted upon my presence.

Truth be told, I can’t really blame her for hating me...finding her much younger sister giving her new husband’s best man a drunken blowjob in the coatroom of Shenanigans Bar and Grille during the reception was probably a good reason to hate someone. Especially when I drunkenly and sarcastically muttered, “your sister is SOOO much better at this than your Aunt Claudia.” Naturally Sarah gasped in horror and my sardonic Cheshire Cat grin began to emerge in the dimly lit coatroom just as she slammed the door.

As I considered not going, I realized that Ryan probably went through hell in order to get me on the guest list. Sarah was known to inflict unreasonable suffering upon Ryan when he wanted something for himself, so I figured I would have to go...even though it would ruin a perfectly good Saturday night.

Feeling distraught about the whole affair, I laid on the bed and begin to ponder what sort of “something to share” should I bring to this potential suckfest. I considered smoked salmon or some prosciutto from my Uncle’s deli. Then I smirked as I thought to myself, “fuck it, bring some Velveeta and Boone’s Farm, maybe the sister will be there.”

Your suggestion is: resulting in a hastily pierced third nipple