|10 October 2003
Notes from a job interview in Memphis.
Secret revealed: I'm gay. Or at least a transvestite. Why? Because I wore fucking Secret to a job interview. It was a brand-new, unused deodorant in my mom's bathroom closet, and I had to use something. "That's okay, Harold," you're saying, "it's strong enough for a man."
Yeah, but it's made for a woman! And it was shower fresh. I went around all day smelling clean, and I hate that.
And the antipersperant claim? A total lie. I was soaked in sweat for the entire interview. The little conference room I was in was hot. I didn't touch the thermostat, though. I thought they might be testing me. But what were they testing? My stoicism and ability to withstand the heat, or were they trying to see if I was resourceful and could cool off my environment? I don't know.
I was left alone for a while during the interview. One person had left, and the next person hadn't shown up yet. I saw something next to the phone. I leaned over for a closer look.
It was the longest, kinkiest pubic hair I'd ever seen. I used my pen and the corner of the telephone to straighten it out, and it was a good four inches long. I scooted it off onto the floor, lest anyone think it was mine.
I ran over a squirrel on a busy street in West Memphis. I slammed on my brakes and swerved over onto the curb and he still managed to get under my tires. I heard the little "thump-thump" that meant I'd gotten him twice.
Then I looked in my rearview mirror. There was his little buddy or life companion or whatever zippering back and forth in traffic, trying to check on his thoroughly dead friend. That's what made me feel bad. If I'd killed a loner squirrel it wouldn't be a big deal, right? They're just rats with good p.r. and a nice tail. But the fact that I made a woodland creature sad? That crushes me.
You know how a mullet is business up front, party in the back. Well I saw this one guy at the Flash Market in West Memphis, and his haircut was business in the front, cocaine-fueled orgy in the back. Damn, that was some hair! He had on a ball cap, but there was no containing his magnificent mane.
"I cashed out of the mullet army a long time ago," I told my friend Glen, "but this guy stayed in and became a general. I wanted to salute him."