On Losing And Finding My 20s
On Losing My 20
That’s funny I thought I had a 20 dollar bill. It’s okay [nervous laughter]; it’s just in my pants pocket from last night. That’s it — my pants pocket. Let me just trot down the hall and get it. Then I can just have a nice start to a totally normal day.
Oh, that’s weird. It’s not in here. It must be in the other pocket. Nope. Cue:
I couldn’t have lost it. I mean I wouldn’t have lost it. Why are these jean pockets so goddamn shallow? Okay, just breathe. You probably put it in the back pocket. Damn, it’s empty!
Only. One. Pocket. Left. Come on back right pocket, come on — Ahhh it’s not in there! My world is turning upside down!
Okay, okay, okay, calm down. Think it through. Maybe you didn’t put it in your pants pocket at all? Maybe you actually put your 20 dollars back in your wallet like a human being, instead of a f-cking lunatic. Nope it’s not in my wallet either! I HAVE A REALLY BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS!
What am I saying? It’s in my bag. Of course, let me just dig around in here. Well, I don’t feel a 20. Stop. Let’s do this logically. I’ll just dump everything in my bag out on the table. There’s my lip balm, oh that’s where I put those headphones, now if I could just find — no, it’s not in here either! And if it’s not in here, then that means…
I LOST IT. Dun Dun Dun!!!
Why. Why am I doing this to myself? Oh the agony! 20 dollars!
I could have bought 20 deli pickles with that! Or groceries! But most likely 20 deli pickles — not that it matters because it’s gone forever. My life is ruined.
I could have used that 20 dollars to buy 10 two-dollar bills and in a couple hundred years — when those things are finally collector’s items — I could have paid off my student loans! Or I could have splurged on one-and-a-half trendy cocktails, or taken a seven-block cab ride, or purchased a fork-full of salad from Whole Foods!
What gets me the most is that without that twenty dollars, I now live in a world where my lifetime sum will definitely contain 20 fewer items from The Dollar Store — items like: a purple vase, dusty Easter decorations, five yards of stretch bandages, or a brown thing! For the love of god, I could have bought dinner in the 1980s for ten adults (or one 2,000 lb person) at Ground Round!!!
How could I have been so careless with my 20 dollars? Also, how could I have been so careless not eating at Ground Round every night when it existed! “Pay-what-you weigh” for a penny-a-pound? Do I even have a brain?
Where is my fiscal responsibility? And where is my manual calculator? I’m a fool! I need to check my bank account! Why won’t this stupid asshole calculator work! I am unraveling. Is that Daniel Powter’s “Bad Day” playing on a loop in my mind? Now I know how the Season 5 contestants of American Idol felt when they got voted off!
I need to get into the shower with my clothes on — that is how terrible this financial crisis is right now. I need to cry and slide down the wall, so that when they make a Lifetime movie about this harrowing event they can reenact my shower slide and Meredith Baxter will win an Emmy. But she won’t win, even though she will totally deserve to, because this, The Losing of the 20 Dollars That Time, curses all in its path! Now I am cursed and everyone I see, speak to, or touch will be cursed. This is definitely the worst thing ever. Let the clouds rain blood on the streets of Manhattan. I don’t deserve this!
On Finding My Twenty
What a regular day it is here in New York City. I am feeling simply mediocre and pretty okay about that. Or I would be, if the feeling had even registered in my brain. It has not registered because it is just such a completely normal feeling that it is a non-feeling and totally unnoticeable.
Today is just your average day. In fact, today would be a good day to get a baseline for my days — so I can more accurately track the gravity of feelings and events when they do occur, on other less plain days. The weather is acceptable; I don’t have a thermometer but I’d say it is probably medium degrees outside.
Huh? What is that on the sidewalk? It’s probably just a leaf. There are a few, but not too many, leaves on the ground, so that would make sense. But maybe, just for the heck of it, I should check it out. [Tension rises]
What? Wait a second, that leaf is light green. From here, it looks like there is some kind of text and a few numeral markings on it. Let me get a closer look.
No, way. It can’t be. It is! 20 dollars! Could this really be happening? Is this a dream? Cue:
This is the best thing ever; everything is finally coming together. I feel like a Woman King! Or whatever that would feel like if there were some kind of word for that idea. You get it, right? It’s like if a mountain was on top of a mountain and I was on top of that mountain scoring a header in the World Cup Finals, but that goal also meant that I won the U.S. presidential election and free ice cream for life from everywhere. All this time not reading The Secret and putting out the vibe into the world that I really want whatever good things happen to people who read The Secret without ever having to read The Secret has totally paid off!
I feel like a violently-inclined version of an Oprah studio audience member during her Favorite Things episode! I am finally living my best life. This is absolutely incredible. It is truly a MIRACLE and I don’t think it takes away from supernatural events attributed to a deity, the 1980 U.S. hockey team’s victory against the Soviets, Cpt. Sullenberger landing his plane in the Hudson river, The whip, or anything that happened with Santa on 34th street to call it that! This is literally as miraculous as those events. I don’t deserve this.
A | A | A
Well I mean first of all, it’s never a good idea to approach a hot black girl with an opening line about how much you love chocolate!
My son from the age of three always tells me about the “creeper man” who lives in my mom and dads bedroom. He brings it up after he visits them. I made the mistake once of asking what he looks like. My son said “Oh, he doesn’t have a face.”
We live in a time where media is considered obscenely trendy. By its very nature, media is meant to be trendy–a story must delivered in a timely, entertaining, and easy-to-digest fashion.
They would meet on Facebook because Sally would post (under her customized settings she created, viewable to “friends” and “friends of friends” but hidden from “work colleagues” and “environmental studies classmates” and “ex boyfriends and lovers” but still available to…