Learning to live with my inner tool
by Gary Huerta
So last week, as I was ranting in this column with righteous indignation about not getting my birthday gifts from my girlfriend in a timely manner, I acknowledged my tendency to be a dick on rare occasions.
Since I’m fascinated by binding things together, even if it is only by the thinnest thread, I wanted to link this column to last week’s by expanding upon my innocent little admission of imperfection. Plus, I’m also hesitant to elaborate further upon my girlfriend since she’s expressed a keen interest in reading this column. Were I to go on and on about the intense scrutiny the gift I gave her received, I might have to hire a food taster to ensure my survival. All I will say on the matter of birthday gifts is this: Even when a guy thinks he’s thought of the perfect gift, he probably hasn’t. At least that’s my experience.
But I was talking about my own toolishness.
I should explain that with the exception of the occasional alcohol-infused rant, my dick-like nature is mostly limited to my own inner voice, which I do leave uninhibited 24/7/365 to silently provide commentary upon just about everything that crosses my path. Other than my own raving thoughts, I do function like a mostly rational human.
In order to keep from infuriating everyone within eyesight, I don’t express my dickish nature publicly. If I do, it’s only to a select few people who are likeminded in their intolerance for most forms of stupidity. Admittedly, I have an incredibly ruthless group of friends.
I fully realize the above would have you thinking me and my pals are without redemption, alone and lost in a sea of antisocial loathing. And you’d be wrong, of course. I believe there’s a little dick in everyone. Well, that didn’t come out quite right. What I meant to say was everyone’s inner voice has a tendency to be a dick.
Let me give you a few examples of my dick-like thought process by providing a stimulus. See what you first impression is and then read my inner dick response. See if you haven’t entertained any of my ass-like notions yourself. If you haven’t, good for you. You are an awesome Zen master capable of moving on to whatever enlightened existence awaits your kind. If you have had similar thoughts… you too have dick tendencies.
Scenario #1: Old men in spandex biking pants.
My inner dick: I get it. You want the world to know you ride a two-wheeler once in a while. It may even be your passion. But for God’s sake, do you have to parade around town in those tight fitting, padded-ass shorts all day long? No. You don’t. Go for your ride. Block the door to my coffee house with your expensive bike when you take a break. Clip-clop around in your goofy shoes. Fine. But if you haven’t been on your bike in more than an hour, the ride is over! Get out of the shorts so we don’t have to see your disgusting male camel toe. It’s not cool, man. And if you are sporting the dreaded beer belly/love handle combo, do us all a favor and wear something a little less form fitting.
Scenario #2: People who leave their carts in the middle of the aisle at the supermarket.
My inner dick: Why do you think it’s OK to just abandon your cart anywhere you want so you can go peruse organic almond butter? Do you have any concept of sharing this Earth with other inhabitants? Or did mommy and daddy raise you with a bloated perception of your own self-worth because they told you every one of your finger paintings was a masterpiece?
You are an irritating obstacle put there by the gods to impede my ability to grab what I need quickly in order to get home. Remember: I’ve had a hard day at work and the last thing I need is to have your cart full of Kettle Chips stand in the way of me getting home to the comfort of my Ketel One martini.
Scenario #3: The French.
My inner dick: Merde.
Scenario #4: People who take more than one free sample.
My inner dick: What gives you the right to take more than one sample of anything? Does the word “sample” somehow confuse you? Unless you’re at a cocktail party, I’m reasonably sure it’s self-evident that the supermarket is not an opportunity to graze casually. There are other people who’d like to taste the soy-chorizo on a mini tortilla. Filling your fat hands with six or seven little bites while leaving two for the rest of us to fight over like a pack of wild dogs isn’t just rude, it’s even more dickish than the thoughts I’m having about you!
Here’s a suggestion: Take one sample. If you like it, buy the product so you can eat it to your little heart’s content in the privacy of your own home, which I am sure is filled with all the free pens, shampoo and conditioner you’ve stolen from every hotel you have ever occupied.
END OF TEST.
So there you have it – four random thoughts I could have on any random event that conclusively prove my dickishness. And now that I’ve come clean, how about you?