Social Tip #67 - Friendly Protest

I work for a "World Government Agency" now. I can't say much about it, including the name of the place I am working for, but I will tell you that I am giving the "thumbs up" sign in my picture on my identification card. And not just because I am excited to work there, but because it is an offensive gesture to Iranians, Iraqis and Australians, and now that I work for some serious shit it is time I got some political opinions.

Fuck those guys. The Iranian-Iraqi-Australian desert conflict has gone on long enough.

Social Tip #66 - Clouds

I never understood the "depression is a cloud" metaphor until I left Arizona. Until then I had only been depressed in the extreme sunshine where I mastered holding a blank sullen stare while the sun dried my corneas into notebook paper.

Social Tip #65 - Hipsters

Urban Outfitters should use actual hipsters instead of models for their catalogs so that the actual hipsters can see how desperate their arm socks, onesies, and pink Kanye sunglasses will look with their beards.

Social Tip #64 - Ducks

And now, a duck knock-knock joke.

Duck: Quack quack.

You: Who's there?

Duck: Quack quack quack-quack-quack quack-quack quack quack-quack-quack quack-quack quack quack-quack-quack quack-quack quack quack! Quack-quack-quack quack-quack quack. quack-quack-quack quack-quack quack!

Social Tip #63 - Terrorism*

Last night I went to a party, and the drunkenness led naturally to 9/11 (2001) stories.

Here's mine, the best I remember it...

I was woken up by a phone call at 2pm, that's 5pm New York time, I was living in Irvine, CA.

Me: Hello?

It was my roommate, Jen...

Jen: Don't bother coming up, they've closed fair. Not like you were going to.

(Jen made quesadillas at the state fair and was always very proud to claim she came from "carnie stock." She only kinda did, her dad rented out booths, and ran a few of them, but he was really a lawyer - ex-lawyer? - who preferred the fair. I met her family many times, they were all very well-read and civilized. Saying that she had a carnie bloodline was more of a true joke than anything.)

Me: They closed it? Why?

Jen: They think it might not be safe.

Me: Why not? Did some kid finally die on a roller coaster?

Jen: No, I know. Every place that attracts large numbers of people is being closed down. I don't really get why they're worried about the fair. Who would bother to attack the fair?

Me: What are you talking about?

Jen: ...

Me: Hello?

Jen: Oh my god, did you just wake up?

Me: Yeah. It's two.

Jen: Oh man. Turn on the TV.

Me: What channel?

Jen: Any channel.

I turned it on, just an aerial view of smoke and a pile of rubble.

Me: Ok, what am I looking at?

Jen: The World Trade Center.

Me: What, did Osama Bin Laden finally get that thing?

(The World Trade Center sounds like one building, not two, doesn't it? It did to me.)

Jen: Planes flew into them, nobody knows what happened. Who is Osama Bin Laden?

Me: I don't know, actually. I think its some dude who tried to bomb that building a few years ago.

(I couldn't figure out how I knew that at that moment, but since then I've remembered I had watched a really creepy 20/20 thing or something with his video when I was in high school.)

Jen: Well. It was planes. They're not even sure it wasn't an accident.

Me: Either way, I bet he's fuckin' stoked.

Jen: Myka, this is a big deal.

Me: Really? Was it a big building or something? ...

I assumed that shit got bombed and blown up all the time. I knew I didn't know what the World Trade Center was, or even where it was, so I figured that things getting blown up all the time was part of the reality of this planet that went on without my knowledge.

I spent the rest of the afternoon glued to the TV, noticing how the rubble was a slightly different hue of gray on different channels, feeling sad for the people that died, and realizing that the WTC was the same thing as the twin towers, which were the same things as the buildings I remember seeing as a child in the skyline of "Muppets Take Manhattan."

*Do not terrorize

Social Tip # 62 - Avoidance

Hi. I've been neglecting the blog this week to take care of:

1) Taxes (And no, I still have not finished them and have not gotten an extension.)

2) Eviction Court (And no, my crazy roommate has still not been removed from my apartment but instead has started a collection of empty coffee cans and old newspapers on the kitchen floor... perhaps to prepare for a life as a homeless person? Have I even mentioned this nut bag before? This isn't the guy who pees in Coke bottles, this is the 50 year old bike messenger who decided one day to stop paying rent. I will miss him, he has incredible OCD that causes him to bleach out the shower once a week. It's great, I haven't had to clean the toilet once in the two years I've lived here.)

3) Work (Trying to get work, trying to keep the work I've got. Trying to work is work.)

I will write more provocative content soon. Until then, here is a picture of a crazy lady:

Social Tip #61 - Doing Drugs

Whenever I am at a crazy bar or party I go into the bathroom and scrape everything up with a business card and snort it.

I figure, I don't know what's in coke anyway.

Social Tip #60 - Live Twittering

I went to the park yesterday and saw a guy with a gigantic parachute looking kite thing. Every now and then it lifted and it looked like he might catch flight, but he never did. I was about to ask him if he was trying to fly when a bunch of teenagers screamed from behind me,

"Are you gonna fly?"

"No," the guy answered, annoyed.

What a gigantic fucking tool. He was definitely the biggest tool in the park. If I had Twitter on my phone, I could let everyone know. There had to be a way to make my every thought and observation known.

"I am looking at the biggest tool in the park," I said out loud, addressing anyone in my range.

I was live Twittering.

Then, someone behind me said,

"Yeah, he is."

He commented on my live Twitter, and we had a real life Wall-to-Wall exchange.

Social Tip #59 - Working as a Temp

Here is a letter from a nervous new temp seeking my advice:

Dearest Myka:

Your sage-like advice was so helpful last time; I'm reaching out to you again.

I "scored" an office job for the day, but the anxiety of sitting in this sterile office and the fear of getting caught looking at tranny porn is giving me the runs! I don't really wanna leave my desk for fear that I'll miss a crucial call from a telemarketer, plus of the four times I've tried to "drop the kids off at the pool" I've only been successful once.

HALP!

Anne Onimous

My response:

Dearest Anne,

Congratulations on your new job. I think I can help you with your problems if we clear up some confusions...

1) A one-day office job is a blessing. Feel free to watch hours of chick dicks and poop when and wherever you want. They are expecting it of you, you're a temp. If you don't flex your incompetence, all the regular office drones will spend the rest of the week laughing at the "temp who didn't sit in tears under his desk." So, go for it!

2) Don't worry about missing those telemarketer calls... they'll always call back! Also, don't be afraid to put them on hold, they can wait just as long you can not care. Need help? Telemarketers use a script when calling you, so here is a script you can use with them:

TELEMARKETER: Can I speak to the person who is in charge of purchasing toner?

YOU: I am that person and I would love to give you our account. Can you please wait a moment? There is a knock at my butt-door, and I have to answer it.

(Put telemarketer on hold until intestinal evacuation is complete.Return to desk)

YOU: Thank you so much for holding, I thought that toilet paper would never wipe clean. Ill buy extra reams if you can guess the color!

3) You say you have the runs, but your ass is a depressed house wife and your poops are the painful childhood memories it just can't get rid of. You must take your out-hole to Therapy. Therapy is a bar that serves noxious cocktails, take a long lunch and blow your paycheck there. If you aren't leaking all over the office carpet by 5pm, you are sure to explode black bile at a strangers house in the early AM.

Best of luck in your field of employ!

Myka

I hope this helps all of you other nervous temps out there. Be well, and keep the questions coming.

Social Tip #58 - Crying Sex

I made a short animation on how not to get laid in the city. Enjoy.

Social Tip #57 - Cup Of Tea

Today a guy said to me, "Professional sports are not my cup of tea."

Awwwww, cute. I could have known that from "cup of tea." That was all he had to say for anyone to know he was not into sports. Or building things with tools. Or ending sentences with prepositions.

Social Tip #56 - MiniKiss

I met a member of MiniKiss yesterday.

I tried not to stare at him, but he was sitting alone at a table for ten, wearing a black bandanna with skulls and crossbones that couldn't stretch over his gigantic dented forehead, clutching a treasure chest, and chugging mimosas. I didn't care if it was none of my business, I was not going to leave the restaurant without knowing how it would all play out.

"Sorry to bother you," I asked, humiliating my boyfriend who sat across from me, "but what is going to happen here?"

"I was hired to play a pirate for someone's surprise birthday party. The guy has a thing for pirates and little people," he said. Damn, I thought, those aren't his regular clothes. I immediately wanted to ask him if he ever went drinking with Dave Attell, but I bit my tongue. It was not the right time to name drop all the famous people I knew who were into little people.

"So you're a professional party pirate?" I asked, deliberating editing the world "little" out from the version in my head. The question sounded sad enough already.

"No. I'm a member of MiniKiss, but they hire us out to do stuff like this, too," he said.

Jesus. I desperately wanted him to explain to me the emotional ramifications of being a human novelty gift, but I hunkered down. Be a real person, Myka, you can do it.

"I've heard of Mini Kiss," I said, "You guys have been on VH1, right?"

He nodded, unimpressed. (Later, when I went home to Google MiniKiss, I found that they had also been in Rolling Stone Magazine, and a million other TV shows and publications lauding their efforts. They were way more famous than I was, and maybe even as famous as Dave Attell.)

"Which member of Kiss are you?" I asked.

"Mini-Gene," he replied, and then stuck out this gigantic pointy tongue that stretched below his chin, which was really impressive because, as I've said, his head was huge.

"Thanks," I said, sure that anything could have been an appropriate response at that point.

Then I left Pirate Mini-Gene alone and went back to my private conversation with my boyfriend, begging him to order desert so we could have an excuse to watch the surprise unfold. Twenty minutes went by, nothing happened. The little pirate just sat and swallowed enough mimosas to inebriate a regular sized human. So much time went by that I forgot to pay attention and I didn't notice that the party had filled in the large empty table around Mini-Gene. Brunch just continued on in a pacific nature.

And then.

"Is anyone named Jared having a birthday today?" Mini-gene bellowed. Brunch halted to a stop. Everyone looked around. No Jared. Was Mini-Gene too drunk to remember to wait for the right guy to show up?

"Is Jared here?" he tried again. Nothing. Everyone at the restaurant squirmed with guilt for simultaneously wanting to see what was going and not being Jared. The people at the large party table chuckled uncomfortably. Shouldn't one of them be Jared? The mood was tense. No one admitted to being Jared.

"Come on Jared," said this yenta sitting next to me, who had earlier been discussing her Passover plans. "Fess up already" she meddled.

Almost invisibly, Jared looked up from the large table and timidly raised his hand. He had been there the whole time, but appeared not to recognize his own name or birthday. I began to wonder if Jared really liked pirates and little people at all, or if this was just some extremely awkward prank. Or worse, he had joked once about liking pirates and little people, but it was a front because he really LOVED little pirate people, in a sexual way. Maybe he hadn't owned up to his birthday because he didn't want a Sunday full of brunch-eaters to notice his bulging erection hidden behind a birthday card. If that is what was really happening, it never became an issue.

Mini-Gene toddled over to Jared, handed him the treasure chest and wished him a happy birthday. Jared thanked him quietly, and that was it. Mini-Gene had waited forty five minutes for that unimpressive exchange. I felt bad for him, and began to clap.

Everyone else in the restaurant started clapping and cheering too, and Jared decided to enjoy his birthday gift and invited Mini-Gene to join the table.

"What's your name, man?" Jared asked Mini-Gene.

"Anything you want it to be." Mini-Gene replied, seductively. It was a line straight out of "Pretty Woman ." Maybe the little pirate person sex fantasy was a real thing. I wanted Jared to give Mini-Gene one of Richard Gere's knowing looks, get his real name out of him, and then take him up to a hotel penthouse and ultimately change his life forever.

Instead, Mini-Gene took that moment to spill his fifth mimosa all over the girl next to him and mop her up with his mini-leather jacket. Who says mini-chivalry is dead?

Social Tip #55 - Solitude

I walked by the Guitar Center last night, and there were two desperate art fucks standing outside of it, leaning on the wall.

"What are you listening to?" one of them asked me, interested I presume in starting our affair with a conversation about his musical expertise.

"Nothing," I said.

"Come on, I just want to know what you're into," he pressed.

"I'm not listening to anything," I said, "I just wear these headphones so that people will think I can't hear them and won't try to talk to me, but it doesn't always work."

Social tip #54 - Making Assumptions

When a friend tells you that they are going to the doctor, wait for them to tell you why.

Don't just jump in and ask them if they are going to fix their lazy eye.

(Also important: it takes TWO eyes for one of them to be lazy.)

Social Tip #53 - Advice on Love

Desperate in Des Moines writes:

"Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Which do you recommend (btw, I have to be up early for work)."

Hmmm... good question, good question. Here is my answer:

It all depends on who or what you are loving and losing.

If you are in love with, say, amputating appendages, then it is not only good to have loved and lost, but also the point.

Social Tip #52 - Meat

During high school I lived with my father and brother in my childhood home in Scottsdale, Arizona. Despite the fact that none of us cooked or cleaned anything ever, we had a second dishwasher, oven, microwave, and refrigerator/freezers. We hid the extra refrigerator in a laundry room that was buried in decaying clothes, dusty children's shirts and tennis whites that were too out-of-date to wash and too dirty to donate. They were left there the day we moved into that home, long before my mom stopped doing the laundry.

No one ever used the second refrigerator except for my dad because he signed himself up for the "Meat of the Month" club. My dad considered the meat to be too precious to cook, so he banked his cow parts in the freezer.

Some time after the meat membership lapsed, that refrigerator died, and went untouched for many months, possibly years, until out of curiosity I made the mistake of opening it. I was met with a force powered by death. I smelled that smell with my entire head. All of my other senses were shut down and my entire existence became that smell.

I slammed the refrigerator shut and abandoned it, and over time the entire east wing of our home smelled like the slaughterhouse I had already come to associate with the city of Scottsdale. That smell gave me a purpose in life, a challenge waiting to be met. I spent years building up the courage before I reopened the refrigerator, dumped gallons of bleach into it, and dragged it out into the backyard where it stayed until sometime when I was in college, right next to the second of two grills that were never used.

R.I.P