SellingMannysGrill.com

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I was walking to the local library this morning and the thought process that I endured was rather amusing. The evening before, I had finally convinced Katie to have dinner with me. The following is the end-to-end stream of consciousness I experienced during my walk as best as I can remember it. Maybe people can relate to this, and if not, God help me.

It’s beautiful out. I love it when it’s in the 60s. I love wearing hoodies. I definitely walk faster than most people, even most New Yorkers. Ut-oh… trouble ahead. Lady in the way with a baby in a stroller. This is bad. I need to keep this pace. I don’t like walking slow. Maybe she’ll speed up… nah no way, I’m gonna have to make a move here, but is that rude? To walk around them? That’s like saying “I can’t deal with you and am making an extra effort because of this.” I don’t mean it in a bad way, I just like to walk fast. I’m sneaking around the side of her now. The kid is cute. Don’t stare at the kid, that’s creepy. Eh, what’s she gonna do, it’s a cute baby. She’s already pissed that I’m too impatient to walk behind her… might as well pile it on. I got around them! Freedom!

That kid really was adorable. The woman smelled nice. She looked like Katie. It barely feels like she ever worked with my Mother. I can’t wait for dinner, tonight. I’d definitely give it to her… Maybe I could? She’s 29, I’m 22. Maybe I remind her of her college years and she wants a fling to bring her back to a better time? Nostalgia has been known to transform into better things for me. But no, I can’t… Mom used to work with her. What are you talking about anyway, you’d have no chance. She’s too attractive for you. She’s successful, too. Am I talking to myself? Do you have to be speaking out loud to be considered “talking to yourself?” Isn’t all reflective thinking a form of talking to one’s self? Who cares, it’s in my head anyway. Nobody’s listening. Her husband is such a flake. How the hell did he get a girl like that? I hate that guy. He’s chubby, has red hair and freckles. He’s listless.

:::Flashback, Last January; I ran into them at JFK. I was going back to college.

They were going on their honeymoon. They were happy:::

I wish I had what they have. I don’t get it. Why can’t I get a fascinating, successful woman like that? We’ll see how things go. Wait, what are you saying? Who cares if she’s successful? A man should take care of a woman, not the other way around, you loser! Alright, relax, go easy on yourself, you didn’t mean it like that. You’re just attracted to women who are driven… always have been. And why are you hating on this guy? This guy’s a legend! Okay you’re definitely talking to yourself now. There’s a girl heading your way. She looks pretty from here. She’s getting closer. She’s definitely pretty… just be cool. You’re the man. You’re a legend, just like Katie’s husband. Keep it cool, man, keep it cool. Man? Did you just call yourself “man?” Oh, well this is just wonderful. Now you’re talking to yourself and have become friendly with this “other Mike.” You are such a weirdo. Hey, at least you’re not like other psychopaths. Most people with split-personality disorder have an evil alter-ego, where in your case both of your egos get along! They refer to each other as “man,” or “bro,” or “dude.” You can be the only asshole ever to become a psychopath and be a completely down-to-earth chap. You should head to the bar tonight and talk to yourself about the Yankees… but what if this other guy’s a Mets fan? That’s no good. That would ruin everything. You’re so pathetic. You are now officially creating psychopathic alter-egos based on what baseball teams they root for. Relax, you need to keep the whole multiple-compatible-personality disorder going. Did you just coin a term? No, you’re just an idiot.

Okay she’s getting real close now, just relax, you can do this. Smile, make eye-contact, but never stare at her with your peripherals and do NOT turn your head! It makes you look perverted. Play it cool and this will all be over soon. MOST IMPORTANTLY, do NOT do that thing where you want a girl to think you’re not interested, so you turn away from her and sniffle to prove you’re more interested in clearing up your sinuses! She can tell you’re just too nervous to be upfront with her. Women aren’t stupid… it’s completely transparent when you try to pull shit like that. You can’t stare at her and let her know you think she’s beautiful, either. You’ll look desperate. Okay she’s really close now, just keep it cool. Here it comes… Eye-contact. Good. Smile. Very good… Now don’t sniffle! Don’t do it! :::turns away, sniffles::: You’re the worst. I hate you. Whatever just relax man, life goes on. Great, again with the “man.” What a forgiving alter-ego. Who knows, maybe she went for the sniffle thing. Maybe she found it cute… fuck, you can’t turn around. If you turn around and she actually is checking you out she’ll think you’re a creep and any interest she had in you will dissipate. This is excruciating. I can’t take it, I’ve got to turn around! :::Turns around::: She wasn’t looking. I wasn’t caught, but that means she wasn’t interested. The sniffle trick fails yet again.

Red light. Cars are stopped. I continue to walk. A douchebag is blasting rap music. Michael…what exactly do you think you’re doing? That’s enough… Stop it! Stop it right now! Stop walking to the beat! You look like an imbecile! Get a hold of yourself, man! YOU-AREN’T-COOL! Ah, fuck it, enjoy it. Bob your head a little. You have your own theme music. How many times in life does one get their own theme music? This is awesome. You’re the shit… strut your shit, Nigga. Yeahhh boyyy, and yeah, you definitely just referred to yourself in THE FIFTH PERSON as “Nigga.” Maybe you’ve forgotten you’re the whitest asshole to ever walk the Earth, but great, one of your multiple-compatible-personalities thinks he’s black. That’s just fantastic… fuck it, maybe you have three personalities: Two guys who are very similar, and a total wanna-be to balance out your loserness. This is so sad. This is so, so sad. I need a cigarette. Damnit, I don’t have any cigarettes. Probably a good thing. Smoking’s bad for you. Maybe this was God’s way of telling me smoking’s bad… wait… no it wasn’t. You just didn’t buy cigarettes. It had nothing to do with God. You’re such an idiot. I wonder what Katie’s doing. Whatever, I can see the library ahead. Time to talk to real people, except there’s no talking in the library. It’s all good, I’ll figure something out. Perhaps I’ll just whisper.

Later, man.

Psssst!…

Peace, Nigga.