Confirmed: Brains Are Evil
I've got this theory that I've been working on for awhile that, today, I've finally been able to prove as entirely true. The theory is this: The human brain is a vessel for pure evil. I know, I know... it sounds crazy... but check this out; I've been doing some research using only the most sophisticated of scientific equipment (Google) and I've managed to uncover a secret diagram of the human brain that offers irrefutable proof that my theory is correct. Look:
Secret Diagram From The Institute For Science and Whatnot
See! You can just make out the word "evil" actually written on the brain! Yes, I feel vindicated that my efforts haven't been for naught, but I'm also gripped with an icy feeling of fear, which sort of feels like a hand made out of Popsicles is giving me a sensual massage. We, as a people, are housing an organ of pure evil inside our persons. And there's nothing we can do about it, save for drinking heavily to kill off brain cells en masse (which has the same effect as wiping out a nation's army with an A-bomb). You'll be dumber, naturally, but your brain will lack the ability to rise up against you, tormenting you... as mine did to me this very morning. Please, let me share with you my pain, so you'll know in your heart (a pleasant, kindly organ) what we're up against:
I was on the subway, staring off into space and thinking about nothing in particular as one does at 8 o'clock in the morning, when a girl stepped into my car and stood next to me. She was pretty, vaguely Middle-Eastern like supermarket hummus, and instantly familiar though I couldn't place her face. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye for a bit until I was sure that I didn't know her and that my brain was just playing tricks. But... oh, lord... my brain was merely taking batting practice; the home runs of evil were just about to start. With the suddeness of a burst sewer line, my brain flooded my memory banks with an incident so shameful that I'd banished it from my memory. Or so I thought. Seems my brain had just tucked it out of sight, like the gun hidden in the toilet tank in The Godfather, so it could brought out at any moment for a stunning, gangland-style hit.
The incident was this... A few years ago, I answered a personal ad on Craigslist, which I did quite a lot back in the day because my laziness extended even to my dating habits; writing emails sure beats having to actually put on pants and go to a bar, like normal people. Anyway, the girl who had placed the ad (we'll call her Ellie) was pleasent and witty and we emailed back and forth for a while before deciding that we should meet. Because we both had night jobs, we met in the West Village for breakfast. Now, here's where the shameful part comes in. Because I wasn't emotionally or mentally in the best of places back then, I showed up drunk. Yes, in the morning-time. My memory is fuzzy, so there's a chance that I was still drunk from the night before but, not the point. So I'm there, fairly sloshed, and Ellie is pretty, vaugely Middle Eastern (like the girl on the subway, which was clearly the trigger for all of this) and clearly unimpressed with my current state of being. I make it through breakfast without vomiting on her shoes and it's then that I realize that, ha ha, I have no money. Like, none. I don't know much, but I do know that a girl on a blind date doesn't want to hear that she's going to have to pick up the check. The look she gave me as I asked her if she'd mind floating me the cash was one of boiling disgust, mixed liberally with a weariness towards men in general. I felt awful. And hungover. I, of course, never saw her again.
So, yes, it happened and it was a shitty thing for me to do; like I need to be reminded of my past bad behavior. So why did my brain choose to dredge this up on a decent, normal Wednesday morning, years later? Was it just to fill me with shame and regret; to make me feel like a shitty person all over again?
Yes. Because brains are evil. Case closed.
Secret Diagram From The Institute For Science and Whatnot
See! You can just make out the word "evil" actually written on the brain! Yes, I feel vindicated that my efforts haven't been for naught, but I'm also gripped with an icy feeling of fear, which sort of feels like a hand made out of Popsicles is giving me a sensual massage. We, as a people, are housing an organ of pure evil inside our persons. And there's nothing we can do about it, save for drinking heavily to kill off brain cells en masse (which has the same effect as wiping out a nation's army with an A-bomb). You'll be dumber, naturally, but your brain will lack the ability to rise up against you, tormenting you... as mine did to me this very morning. Please, let me share with you my pain, so you'll know in your heart (a pleasant, kindly organ) what we're up against:
I was on the subway, staring off into space and thinking about nothing in particular as one does at 8 o'clock in the morning, when a girl stepped into my car and stood next to me. She was pretty, vaguely Middle-Eastern like supermarket hummus, and instantly familiar though I couldn't place her face. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye for a bit until I was sure that I didn't know her and that my brain was just playing tricks. But... oh, lord... my brain was merely taking batting practice; the home runs of evil were just about to start. With the suddeness of a burst sewer line, my brain flooded my memory banks with an incident so shameful that I'd banished it from my memory. Or so I thought. Seems my brain had just tucked it out of sight, like the gun hidden in the toilet tank in The Godfather, so it could brought out at any moment for a stunning, gangland-style hit.
The incident was this... A few years ago, I answered a personal ad on Craigslist, which I did quite a lot back in the day because my laziness extended even to my dating habits; writing emails sure beats having to actually put on pants and go to a bar, like normal people. Anyway, the girl who had placed the ad (we'll call her Ellie) was pleasent and witty and we emailed back and forth for a while before deciding that we should meet. Because we both had night jobs, we met in the West Village for breakfast. Now, here's where the shameful part comes in. Because I wasn't emotionally or mentally in the best of places back then, I showed up drunk. Yes, in the morning-time. My memory is fuzzy, so there's a chance that I was still drunk from the night before but, not the point. So I'm there, fairly sloshed, and Ellie is pretty, vaugely Middle Eastern (like the girl on the subway, which was clearly the trigger for all of this) and clearly unimpressed with my current state of being. I make it through breakfast without vomiting on her shoes and it's then that I realize that, ha ha, I have no money. Like, none. I don't know much, but I do know that a girl on a blind date doesn't want to hear that she's going to have to pick up the check. The look she gave me as I asked her if she'd mind floating me the cash was one of boiling disgust, mixed liberally with a weariness towards men in general. I felt awful. And hungover. I, of course, never saw her again.
So, yes, it happened and it was a shitty thing for me to do; like I need to be reminded of my past bad behavior. So why did my brain choose to dredge this up on a decent, normal Wednesday morning, years later? Was it just to fill me with shame and regret; to make me feel like a shitty person all over again?
Yes. Because brains are evil. Case closed.
posted by Clinton at 11:27 AM
17 Comments:
What did you eat for your "free" breakfast?
I can't imagine the world we would live in without Craigslist personals.
Without it, how would modern NYC society have gotten into so many a pickle? The Voice anything goes section?
I love the story that your brain forced you to remember. It's the saddest and funniest thing I've read all day.
BTW, I completely agree with your theory.
Lioux... I want to say pancakes, because I think that the reason we ate at the place we did was because they awesome pancakes. But I may be remembering that wrong.
Beehive... Craigslist is truly the greatest venue for "mixin' it up" I've yet come across. I've gotten couches, girlfriends (including Girlfriend), apartments and jobs off of that bad boy. I don't know how people did it in the "dark ages."
Jeff... Glad you enjoyed and glad you agree. Though, I'd prefer it hadn't happened; I hate feeling scummy for things in the past.
I've never dated anyone from Craig's List. I thought it was more for casual sex type stuff?
Anyway, brains ARE evil. I know mine is. Glad to know I'm not alone. :)
When I start to feel sick thinking about the stupid things I've done in the past, I just remind myself that I'm bound to do even worse things in the future. Then the past doesn't look so bad.
Cheese... Craigslist is actually a pretty good dating resource. You have to work a little harder to weed out the freaks, but it's treated me well in the past.
Jeff... Ugh. That's a good, scary point.
Ooh, I hate it when you get blindsided by a random bad memory.
It would be kind of interesting if someone compiled a book of such things.
Lord knows I have plenty.
I take it you didn't as the pretty, vaguely Middle Eastern girl on the subway out for breakfast? The least you could have done was give her $20 to make for the bad karma.
No, I'm no longer in the habit of taking out strange women to breakfast. Besides, my karma's already shot all to hell anyway.
He's all mine, ladies and gentlemen.
She's a lucky, tolerant lady.
Anytime I'm blindsided by an embarassing memory, I like to think it's my minds way of telling me, "Can I throw this memory out now?" I think that's why the memory comes back so vividly, like a little clearing house for memories. At least that's what I hope happens. I can't imagine being 50 and still wincing from stuff I did in high school.
I bet that girl never went on another Craigslist date ever again after that, and now she's one of those people who tells all her friends, "Never post a personal ad on Craigslist! I met a crazy drunk man who made me pay for breakfast!"
Anyway, Craigslist dating represent! I met my own boyfriend that way, and to this day neither of us has turned out to be a murderer.
Mmyers... See, you're forgetting: Brains are evil. We're going to be wincing about our high school careers until we die.
Sloth... That's what Girlfriend said too, and it's probably entirely accurate. Nice to be the one to ruin things for people.
How come Augusten Burroughs gets book deals and you don't? Jesus, I don't know what you do for "work", but your talents are wasted. So, in your case, I whole-heartedly approve of the on-the-clock blogging. Keep it up.
Aw, dude. I'm blushing now; thanks! Yeah, Augusten Burroughs is kind of overrated. I read "Running With Scissors" and it was just okay. Of course, he's making mad bank off of it, so what do I know?
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