Nasty Conjugation

Hello everybody! It’s been a while, but that’s because things have been really busy in our orbital substation. My family came to visit us, so we had a week of touristing around our area, showing off our knowledge of Japan, and eating rotating sushi. Now Holly and I are on vacation, so I will take some of that time to write. And you will reap the benefits (or consequences, depending on how you look at it)! Here’s another Pierot.

Pierot is bored. He’s bored because he hasn’t done much today. He woke up around noon and checked his Internets for about an hour before his stomach convinced him to provide food. Fortunately he had a stack of one-dollar frozen pizzas in the freezer, which, thanks to their budget-friendly price, had come to comprise most of his diet. Pierot likes to roll them up and eat them like burritos.

After lunch he walked to the record store and annoyed the staff by making them special order the Japanese import of the latest Franz Ferdinand album. He reasoned that it had two bonus tracks, therefore making it superior. They reasoned that, honestly, two more tracks is the last thing that album needs.

After the record store he retired to a coffee shop to read and fill himself with espresso. He had brought The Brothers Karamazov with him so, if there was anyone he knew, they would see him reading Dostoevsky. The coffee shop was pretty empty, though, so he was forced to sit and read The Brothers Karamazov without actually impressing anyone. It took an hour before he admitted defeat and walked home. He picked up a twelve pack of beer on the way.

He called a few people, but everyone was busy with something or other. Three beers into his twelve pack he warmed up another frozen pizza and watched a few episodes of Mr. Show. Six beers in he decided to call an ex-girlfriend, but she had the foresight not to be there. At ten beers it was already too late to do anything, plus he was drunk.

Which just about brings us up to date. Pierot is bored and more than a little drunk. As is often the case in situations like this, he chooses to sign into Myspace. He’s already checked it four or five times today, so it comes as no surprise that he has no messages or comments. Still, he experiences that brief moment of disappointment everyone gets when no one has showered them with online attention. He scrolls down to look at the bulletins his friends have posted, but they’re all surveys from the same person. He clicks on one and, drunk enough to ignore the massive self-loathing involved, decides to fill it out himself.

Look to your left. What do you see?: Four empty bottles of Yuengling and a framed picture of Alan Alda (circa the third season of M*A*S*H)

Open up your internet bookmarks. What site is the fifth from the top?: David Byrne’s official website.

Are you wearing shoes?: Goddammit, I hate that I’m doing this.

Close your eyes and type the first letter you hit on the keyboard.:

He pauses for a moment and experiences some more of that previously-mentioned self-loathing. Then he closes his eyes and hits, “J.”

Turn on the radio. What song is on?: Does anyone even listen to the radio anymore? Seriously.

Are there dirty dishes in your kitchen sink?: It only takes one plate to eat frozen pizzas all day, every day, until the day I die. So yes. There is one dirty plate.

Are you drunk right now?: Drunk enough to be taking this survey.

Do you have pictures on your refrigerator?: No.

If so, what are they of?: Don’t you think questions like these are just padding to make the survey seem bigger? Wouldn’t you expect someone to describe the pictures on their fridge if they say yes? These surveys are like conversations with retarded answering machines.

What color is your underwear?: My boxers are yellow and have pictures of ants on them.

Are you on a laptop or a PC?: Yeah, this question is here so Rupert Murdoch can cull market research to finance the portable black hole machine he’s secretly making to bring the world to its knees.

He thinks about this for a second and then adds, “A PC.”

What are you going to do after you complete this?: Probably finish this beer, masturbate, and sleep alone for yet another night.

Name two things sitting on your desk.: Didn’t we already do this? Is this question just here to make me admit to the other picture of Alan Alda circa the last season of M*A*S*H? Because I won’t. I won’t admit that.

Are you daydreaming about anything?: It’s night time. I don’t understand why they would include a time-sensitive question like this.

Do you remember your dream from last night? What was it about?: Last night I dreamt that everyone everywhere held hands and sang a song about ice cream and summer vacations and had a parade to celebrate being best friends forever.

Ever had a dream where you were flying?: And then in that same dream I flew through a rainbow and delivered an urgent letter to the president that said, “Hug levels are dangerously low.” And then when I looked around everyone was bleeding from their eyes.

Are you chatting via IM right now?: No. Should I be? What’s the right answer.

What’s your screen name?: imsecondbest

Do you use Internet Explorer or Firefox?: I’d prefer that the Internet stopped existing so I didn’t have to tie my destiny to a series of tubes that is almost entirely clogged with furries, CNN.com, and millions of people searching for pictures of Angelina Jolie naked.

Did you check your email today?: I check my e-mail obsessively because I am desperate to feel important.

Anyone write you?: Apparently Boris Kortcov is convinced I can be a hero in bed.

In your email box, who is the third message from?: My bank. Do you understand? My bank is the third most recent person to e-mail me, and that was two days ago. Do you know the second? My boss. The first? A Myspace message informing me that yet another high school punk band wants to be my friend.

In your Spam/Bulk email folder, what’s the first message subject say?: Re: My vagran

Are you hungry right now?: I’ve eaten so many frozen pizzas today that it is almost impossible to feel good about myself ever again.

Did you take this survey because you had nothing better to do?: Let’s talk about this statement. Is this supposed to make me feel better that all day long the only thing I’ve accomplished is getting drunk and making a list of unimportant details about myself? Can I take this back? I almost don’t want to post this out of shame, but then I would be depriving myself of the only thing I’ve actually done today. Does this come off as bitter? Am I too bitter? I should probably stop.

Pierot hits the, “Post,” button before he can convince himself not to. At least he’ll probably get some comments in the morning telling him to cheer up. At least he’s got that to look forward to.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 30th, 2006 at 6:43 am and is filed under Pierot. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.