I’m thinking about becoming a brain in a vat, or a monk. Something reclusive. A hermit might be nice, the kind who lives in a shack in the forest and not the kind who lives in a shack at the beach. Perhaps I will cover all of the bases and become a brain in a vat in a shack in the forest. The brain would have eyes and one tentacle and a tonsure and a wireless Internet connection. Of course, all it would take is one hungry zombie and that’s all she wrote, but maybe the zombie could be Matt Damon. But maybe, instead of consumption, Zombie Matt Damon would want to pal around with the brain and every so often have slightly awkward sex.
A boy can dream.
Yesterday was a bad day, and by “bad day,” I mean a BAD DAY. The most bizarre thing that happened was that I got asked out on a date by a crazy person. It was a male crazy person who wanted to take me to a lesbian movie. Here’s how it went down:
Male Crazy Person: What are you doing on Wednesday?
Me: Wednesday?
Male Crazy Person: Are you busy?
Me: I think so, yes. Yes, I am.
Male Crazy Person: I have this extra movie ticket and I can’t give it away.
Me: Oh, what a shame.
Male Crazy Person: What are you doing on Wednesday? Do you have to work?
Me (after sixteen hellish hours of a BAD DAY and not thinking clearly): No.
Male Crazy Person: Oh, so what are you doing?
Me: I don’t remember. I think I have an event.
Male Crazy Person: An event? What kind of event?
Me: I don’t remember.
Male Crazy Person: Could you check?
Me: Um, OK. (Consults blank calendar page.) Oh, look, I have to work after all.
Male Crazy Person: Oh, that’s too bad.
Me: Yes.
Male Crazy Person: If you didn’t have to work, would you go?
Me: To a lesbian movie?
Male Crazy Person: Yes.
Me: Good lord, even lesbians don’t like to go to lesbian movies.*
Male Crazy Person: Oh. OK then.
Me: Have a lovely time.
Of course, as with everything else yesterday, I handled that badly. When I was younger and got asked out on a very regular basis, I had no problem at all saying, “No,” and if pressed, “Because I don’t want to.” Even last night, I could have flashed my wedding ring and that would have been that. (Not because he would have picked upon the hint, but because a beam of highly focused energy would have flashed out of it and incinerated him where he stood. Don’t you hate it when you forget you can incinerate people?)
Brains in vats never have these problems. They are content to sit around the shack in the forest, combing their tonsures with one tentacle while they surf the Internet and wonder idly why Zombie Matt Damon never calls anymore.
* I might be wrong about this.
