The Sweet Release of Death

Charles Grodin, The Kardashians, Lohans, Mr. Rourke, Spears, High School Musical, See's

I'm Kind of a Big Thing... In My Mind: The 2nd Encore

08/23/2010 11:15 AM Filed in:The Douche Chronicles

Its like a guest that just won’t leave. Just when you thought the house lights were about to come up, The Rocker took in a big drag off the oxygen tank backstage and then slithered back into the spotlight for yet another encore number. The Rocker reached down deep on this, his possible last number, and unleashed a banshee wail of a tune from his latest album “Essence of Taint” and truly wowed the crowd with his Massengill splendor. The clock was striking quarter-to-three when The Rocker breezed into the Art Bunker and sashayed his way to the edge of my cubicle. Fearing that with his approach my cubicle half-wall was going to be humped like Hendrix to a Marshall stack, I recoiled away from The Rocker and his “anxious” hips. As if the anxious hips of The Rocker weren’t troubling enough, The Rocker was sporting his trademark mirrored aviator shades. Editors note: I work in the Art Bunker and other than a 12-watt desk lamp here and there, the room is fucking dark. It’s part of our color management protocol, so again, its fucking dark.

The Rocker had the aviators slightly slid down his beak just enough to peer over the top as to avoid having to remove them and fucking up his feng shui of arrogant doucheness. His eyes rolled to the left as if to see if anyone was looking to eavesdrop on what he was about to say, then returned focus back onto yours truly. As I’m watching him waiting for the monotone ramble to spew forth, I became filled with just a nasty bit of Fuckhollywooditus.What is Fuckhollywooditus? It’s an overwhelming feeling of disdain for posers and plastic oxygen thieves that have nothing but contempt for brains and common decency. But hey! If they all look fabulous, all is goody-goody gumdrops.

Where some folks weaken me to be overcome by a psychotic Mel Gibson, The Rocker morphs me into Charles Grodin upon sight. My answers are short. My tone is low and full of complete and utter disgust. My look is that of a whimsical contempt. The Rocker is completely oblivious to my metamorphosis and begins rambling on about how his client is coming in to pick up their item, and, he will be out on a “meeting.” Again with the “meeting” at 3pm…how convenient. It is at this point although morphed into Charles Grodin on the outside, I snap into Mad Mel on the inside and dump The Rocker with the other wastes of space on my imaginary deserted island of Disdain & Sorrow with yours truly acting as a sadistic Mr. Rourke. Sadly as of late I became aware that my imaginary island, my Hollywood/Poser dumping ground if you will, was growing exponentially and was becoming hard to manage.

To alleviate this problem, I now flood my imaginary island every hour or so to make room for the next batch of societal douchebags I plop down upon its rocky shores. As I sat like a fat, chocolate eating cherub sitting on a cloud looking down upon my creation, The Rocker loudly cleared his throat snapping me out of island day dream and back to the matter at hand: he was leaving and needed me to handle his customer while he was out. What’s new? “Yeah, I got it.” I hissed back at him. The Rocker turned and made his exit only to stop and spin back to add, “ Oh, by the way… e-mail The Comets and ask them if their art is approved.” This of course made my toes curl in anger, knuckles cracking aloud like 9mm gunfire. I bit down and mustered a dry smile and said “sure thing.” Then The Rocker faded out the door and off into the 3 o’clock hour, his day complete. Now although The Rocker had left and was out of sight, I could still see him: standing on the shores of my island amongst the crowd of Kardashians, Lohans, Spears, The cast of High School Musical… I’m pretty sure I heard him ask Paris Hilton “ is this heaven?” No silly! She squeaked. “ It’s paradise! Look at all the fabulously fabulous people are here! Want to see my bald, diseased beaver? I like your shades! They’re hot!” She cackled.
With this banter, a warm smile spread across my face as I grabbed a See’s Carmel Nut Cluster and looked down on my island full of celebutantes and assholes. “Its 3o’clock fuckers! High tide is a comin’!” I boomed down from my puffy cloud above, thus giving the swaggering narcissists below ample warning of the fast approaching Wave of Cleanse.

I giggle myself back to reality and to the task at hand of dealing with The Rocker’s clients. But before I play Molly Maid to the sloppy salesman, I pop open the web browser on my computer and cruise Craigslist. Somebody’s got to be selling an island for cheap…

Tags: Charles Grodin, The Kardashians, Lohans, Mr. Rourke, Spears, High School Musical, See's

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