The First Sunday
“It’s a shame that you didn’t show up earlier to the party last night.”
“Hey. I made it to our weekly coffee date on time. Cut me some slack. Was the ratio of popped collars to normal collars outlandish?”
“I prefer to think of it as a rendezvous of minds. Anyway, Outlandishly high. I would estimate it at about a few degrees below the flash point of human skin.”
“And you wanted to subject me to this?”
“Your presence really would have helped reduce the ratio. Plus, I gave myself whiplash doing an impromptu break dance.”
“How could I have stopped that? I don’t know proper form and technique to ‘bring it on.’ ”
“If you had shown up as my wingman as good friends do, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such desperate measures to make things awesome. What were you doing? “
“I needed some hermit-esque activities in my day to balance out the mental demands of my social life.”
“So you were surfing the internet or watching movies. Any cinematic masterpieces?”
“Youtube.”
“Someone once said that love is the slowest form of suicide. But with the advent of Youtube, I would have to disagree.”
“It is only contemplating suicide as long as you don’t post anything. Anyway, before I left, I saw a clip of a fat woman in a halter top dancing to hip hop music.”
“Trying to get some tips before you went clubbing?”
“I am a girl. We don’t need moves for clubs. Boobs are an adequate substitute for style.”
“I might even say a better substitute, but then again, I hate clubbing.”
“Then why go to the club? You hate to dance and I haven’t even seen you once resemble anything close to being a man whore. It’s a waste of time for a pious person such as yourself.”
“The club is my one chance to wear the most ridiculous clothes that I can think of and still be considered cool. Skin tight orange pants. OK. 100 Neon bangles. OK. Eye patch. OK. I like my subtle way of making a mockery of the system while being the king of it. But anyway, back to this fat dancing woman. What was her deal?”
“Basically she is and/or was a fat woman dancing at home in a halter top and booty shorts.”
“Classy, but far from outrageous.”
“The video co-starred her five and seven year old children. Their roles were to throw money at her like she was a stripper.”
“That is the kind of classiness child social services should care about.”
“Sadly, it was PG-13 enough for the children to not be relocated to a foster family but for them to still be subconsciously anxious around go-go dancers or sumo wrestlers.”
“Like sushi and waffles, two wonderful worlds which I hope never try to fashionably combine into a fad.”
“Anyway, the video, while morally apprehensible, was fairly generic in the relative sense, until at the video’s climax where she grabs macaroni and cheese and pours it all over herself.
“Are you saying that she boiled, strained, and mixed up a box of Kraft Velveeta and Shells and then placed it into the room…”
“Her child’s room.”
“…her child’s room where she was filming the video?”
“Not quite. At some point when she was really breaking it down, she grabs a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, the standard cheese powder kind, rips open the top and pours the dried noodles into her mouth and over her cleavage.”
“That is — swell.”
“You look shaken. Did I crack you?”
“No, I am just empathizing with the pureblooded Italians out there who would cringe at the blatant violation of pasta ethics.”
“Haha. I am still awe struck by that woman. Just promise me if I ever get fat, you will talk me out of dancing and pouring mac and cheese on myself.”
“I feel it’s my duty to do that regardless of your mass or volume. Even skinny girls shouldn’t pour dried pasta on themselves. Anyway, you watched some horrible movies. What did you think of the party?”
“It was OK. The music wasn’t horrible. Anything Lady Gaga was pretty rad. It’s especially easy to dance to.
“Meet any cool guys?”
“No. But come to think of it, I did meet someone weird.”
“Yeah, who was he?”
“She. She introduced herself as the World.”
“You hadn’t met the World before that night?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, let’s see. You are twenty-four. You have been working a fulltime non-fast food job for about two years. And you watch a lot of Youtube. I assumed that you two would have been acquainted with each other by now. That fat mac and cheese woman must have been the final catalyst needed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What were your first thoughts after watching that video?”
“I believe it was ‘seriously?’”
“What was your second thought?”
“The world is stupid.”
“Well I suppose it would be rude if I didn’t formally introduce the two of you. Angela, this is the world. World, this is Angela.”
The Second Sunday
“So the World showed up every evening this week.”
“You gave the World your address?”
“She found it on Facebook.”
“Which is the easiest and worst way for the World to find out your address. Why did you open the door?”
“I had my lights on. And she stood on the stoop for like five minutes. I guess she had nowhere to go.”
“So what do a couple of best friends like you two do?”
“We just talk. And by talk, I mean she basically rants to me about any little thing all the time, and I interject witty comments while surfing the internet.”
“That sounds exactly like what you normally do when surfing the internet and posting on social networks.”
“But now there is the shrilling audible tone of immediate feedback.”
“Now that you two are BFFs, what is the World concerned with?”
“Mainly watering crops.”
“I guess when you are the World, you are concerned about some pretty heavy stuff.”
“No, not the World’s crops, Farmville’s crops.”
“I think she tried to give me a rare blue chicken last week.”
“You are Facebook friends with the World?”
“Lady, millions and millions of people are Facebook friends with her.”
“Anyway, she was bugging me to help her put up a barn or donate some fertilizer for her corn crops in her farm video game.”
“Did you tell her that your friend has some fertilizer he could donate. ‘Night soil” is what my ancestors back in the motherland called it. But let’s venture back from that aside. Did you water her crops?”
“Oh god. Ummmmm. Yes. For like five minutes. Peer pressure.”
“The World is good at that.”
“Do you know how boring this game is? At least when you play a typical video game, there is a goal and you get to blow some stuff up. There is nada here. You earn money, your farm gets bigger, and I think you earn some awards. You do chores. Chores! You sell stuff. It’s like real life, but I have nothing to show for it at the end of the day except for a bunch of coding on a server somewhere.”
“Materialism without the materials. I wonder what the Zen Buddhists would say about that one.”
The Third Sunday
“Have you been reading the World’s status updates?”
“She is really craving attention isn’t she?”
“Sweet Jesus. Here are some recent examples from memory:
“OMG, last night was soooooooooo AwEsOmE!!!!!!! totally need to go out with girls more often. They are the craziest bitches ever!!!! P.S. I love IRISH CARBOMBS!!! <3”
“So, I am totally feeling lonely today. It’s like sometimes I feel like I am the only thing like me out in the universe. I really need someone to talk to text me or call me. Maybe I will just go to bed TTYL….”
“That’s right, Lady Gaga, when love isn’t rough it isn’t fun!!!!! (^_~) (^_~) (^_~).”
“Shower.”
“I am going to do it.”
“The prosecution rests, your honor.”
“Did you figure out what she was going to do?”
“Someone on her page asked and she just replied ‘it is a secret. ;-)’”
“Impressive.”
“And she keeps bugging me to comment on her status updates. Doesn’t she realize I don’t care?”
“Well, doesn’t she realize you care enough to read but not to reply?
“I have been dragged into her web of sin, haven’t I?”
“No, you are more like one of those bugs who falls in a pitcher plant and is slowly digested away. Or drowns. I suppose the drowning comes first, then the digestion.”
The Fourth Sunday
“You are older and wiser than me. Do you know the Earth?”
“By know her, do you mean am I Facebook friends with her? Then yes, I do know her.”
“The World recommended I Facebook friend her. I didn’t realize they were two people.”
“Indeed. The Earth keeps to herself and worries mostly about deep matters like global warming and modern day slavery. I was surprised she joined Facebook. She has been putting up with a lot of shit lately and I didn’t think she would intentionally venture into the virtual breeding pit of annoyingness.”
“And the World is just plan irritating?”
“She has been tagging you in a lot of photos lately.”
“Yeah...But not real pictures. A ton of “my friends are like” pictures…”
“The ones that have a bunch of Disney or anime characters to represent different personality types?”
“I was tagged as Pocahontas and Mr. Pibb.”
“I am sorry that the World thinks you are cheap knock off of a great soda and that you will never earn anything higher than a Bachelor’s degree.”
“I could totally get my M.D. if I tried.”
“If I were you, I would go with your strengths and work the Pocahontas angle. I always thought you looked hot in deerskin.”
“Buffalo skin is much more thinning though.”
“So, why don’t you just un-tag your name from the photos? It’s not like those actions are posted in the feed if you do.”
“If she found out though, I wouldn’t want to deal with the fallout.”
“Fair enough. I have to bounce, but tell Grandmother Willow I said ‘hello.’”
The Fourth Sunday
“What are the chances I can get a flavor shot of cyanide in this coffee?”
“You don’t want the flavor, you want the effects. Plus, that would be an extra buck, and I think you are too cheap to pay for those extra little luxuries. I got a bag of unripe almonds bursting with cyanided goodness that I need to get off my hands; they can be yours as long as you give me your Xbox 360 after you have leapt this mortal coil.”
“The World changed its status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship.’”
“Who is she dating, the moon?”
“No. Some guy named Corey. And now all I hear about is Corey, Corey, Corey.”
“Does the World still keep showing up at your apartment?”
“Sadly. Why can’t the World talk about something interesting? She just keeps going on about the dates the two go on. They are not even interesting dates. Each anecdote is another rehash of she and Corey going to TGIF’s for appetizers.”
“I prefer Applebee’s. Or microwaving a box of frozen hot wings at an antique store. Same décor, cheaper prices. Sometimes the owners get mad at you for doing that. Most times though, they are just happy to have the business.”
“Do you know that the World orders ranch dressing with everything?”
“Even nachos?”
“Even nachos.”
“The felon.”
“Corey, Corey, Corey. Seriously. How is that the most frequently heard and used proper noun in my lexicon at the moment? Corey gossip is a retrovirus that has intertwined into my DNA. All I hear about from the world is Corey. And how Corey does this or and how Corey does that. And how cute he is. And how he was in a band.
“Intere—“
And how Corey thinks it’s totally stupid that she orders ranch with everything and they argue about it all the time. And Corey even made her cry one time by calling her a “stupid ranch dressing loving bitch.” And how Corey one day, he bought her a fruit basket but it was filled with a variety of ranch dressings and she cried tears of joy and they had ranch dressing and make-up sex.”
“I hope not at the same time.”
“I am off of ranch dressing just to be safe. So that is what I have been living through for the past four weeks.”
“And that is what I have been vicariously living through the past four weeks we have met here for coffee.”
“If you are interested, there is still room in the pitcher plant.”
The Fifth Sunday
“How’s Angela and the Technicolor Dream World?”
“The World got Twitter.”
“Did you become a foll—“
“No fucking way.”
“Think of the potenti—“
“No. Fucking. Way.”
The Sixth Sunday
“Society.”
“What about it?”
“Society added me as a friend on Facebook. How is Society different than the world?
“Hmmm…I suppose it was probably the result of that damn friend suggestion program on the Facebook homepage. So which one was it?”
“Maybe ‘A-something Society’?”
“American Society. I am also friends with Western, Eastern, Japanese, and Australian. I don’t talk to Australian Society very much. Not that the accent is a problem, but that ‘crikey’ slang shit disintegrates the lining of my ear canals. But back to your original question. The quirks of the World are overall generic. The Societies’ idiosyncrasies are a lot more ‘refined’”.
How so?
“Well Japanese Society wears barrettes in his hair and he spams his friends with “which anime character are you?” quizzes. American Society posts a lot of YouTube videos and is obsessed with adding “FAIL” to any slightly embarrassing photographs.”
“Has the World been tagging you in its Facebook notes?”
“No, but I did see that things ‘are complicated’ with Corey and her.”
“If by complicated you mean that Corey cheated on her?”
“Corey cheated on the World?”
“So from the World’s report of the story, the World had just spent the night at Corey’s. Corey went to take a shower and the World decided to check her Facebook profile and update her status, you know, since it had been about six hours since she last did that.”
“My Lord, six hours. She is so brave to stave off the separation anxiety for that long.”
“Apparently, Corey had his profile set to automatically log in, so when she typed in the address, she was brought to his homepage. It was there she noticed that he had about twenty new messages. Since she is the World, and by nature slightly inquisitive, she clicked on his inbox to find the mother lode of erotic love letters.”
“In Facebook form.”
“From who?”
“From Life.”
“That’s Life, I suppose.”
“Upon reading a selection of the electronic billet-doux, the World went into the bathroom and slapped Corey across the face.”
“Seems like an appropriate consequence for screwing with the World.”
“But not before she poured Mountain Dew into his Playstation 3. “
“Wow. The World isn’t afraid to kick 20-something year old cheaters in the figurative testicles.”
“I will admit that part of the story was entertaining. However, the frequent polarized mood swings are a lot less enjoyable. Sometimes she is sobbing in my house. Sometimes she is sobbing in my inbox. Other times she really giddy. Which of course I mean, she is really drunk on tequila.”
“Maybe you should take the World to ladies night? Get your drink on?”
“Haha, yeah. Maybe I will just de-friend the World. I am tired of her constant bullshit.”
“I know we have been teasing the World, but she has her good points.”
“Well, it would be nice if she posted those redeeming qualities in her Facebook profile because I don’t see them.”
Seventh Sunday
“Dude-san, have my eyes deceived me?”
“Dude-chan, a.k.a. Dudette, what are you referring to?”
“You and the World are tagged together in a ton of Facebook photos.”
“Not a whole metric tons worth of photos, but with all our talk lately, I finally found the inspiration to renovate the profile.”
“You and the World…”
“I am no Corey, but then again, the World said she was also interested in ‘friendship.’”
“There is an entire album of the World and you drinking Coronas at the beach. You really went to a beach party with the World?”
“Sunrise beach party. Watching snow monkeys in a hot spring. Ten day road trip across rural America with the World.”
“There is also a picture of you being sexually accosted by an old Japanese man.”
“It was one grab and he was just sizing me up; it makes for a great story. Plus, I was wearing pants, so no harm done. Good thing the World was there to snap some photos of the event.”
“I can’t believe it. The World has been bugging me at my house and on Facebook for the past seven weeks straight and here you have been partying with her for years. I didn’t think you could be as stupid as she was.”
“Everything looks stupid when observed from the Internet.”
“Huh?”
“Status updates, tweets, message boards. Watch a YouTube video on making cheese cake and you will have about 100 idiots commenting on how cheesecake is both Bush’s and Obama’s favorite dessert and that it was simultaneously invented by Hitler, Bin Landen, and your least favorite Pope of the past 200 years. How the hell does a rational person degrade the good name of cheesecake? Only as something as screwed up as the internet could do that.”
“The World is pretty damn annoying when it’s just complaining to you about Corey in your apartment.”
“Anyone is damn annoying when they just sit in your house and complain all the time. That is why the divorce rate is so high. Face it, kid, your apartment is too small for the World. I hear they are doing some sort of zombie pub crawl this week, you and the World should go there.”
“Maybe…Even if do this one thing, she’s still will come over won’t she?”
“Yeah, but she will slowly become much more tolerable. You might start to like her. Even recommend her to your friends on Facebook.”
“I can still make fun of her, right?”
“Oh God, yes.”
“So this is life in the pitcher plant?”
“It’s a pool party once you remember you can swim.”
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