The Douchebag Bible (49 page)

who lives far away, and I love her as well. There’s

more. Different people—not all girls—whom I have

varying levels of affection for and attraction to. I find

things I can love in all of them.

What attracts me to a person? Damage?

Darkness? Yes, those are factors. No one sane and

healthy could ever give me the sort of affection I

need or desire. I’m not a simple man. I’m not a

normal soul who can content himself with the

mechanics of standard human sex acts. Nor can my

dreams be talked to sleep by the superficial kinks

peddled to the masses. I have needs that rage in me

like a volcano that will not go inactive until it bathes

the entire world in its molten lava.

But Holly is the undisputed sun in my solar

system. She is the center. She is the object with the

greatest gravitational force. I revolve around her.

5. SUPER FAMOUS PERSON

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate one place

on earth more than any other: and that place is Wal-

Mart. I only go there if there’s simply no other choice.

One time, I am standing in the Wal-Mart

check out line, holding whatever accursed thing I've

ventured in to purchase. Part of me (most of me, if

I'm honest) wants to just throw the money at the

cashier, scream “Keep the change!” and run.

It is at that moment that the strangest looking

human being that I’ve ever seen walks up to me and

stands a mere two inches away. He looks up at me

(he’s short) and says, “Amazing Atheist?” His voice

is reedy. His breath stinks. He looks like a vastly

uglier version of Steve Buscemi crossbred with a

newborn bird.

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s me.”

“Fan,” he says, sticking out his gaunt hand for

a shake.

To be polite, I take it. It feels cold, like the hand

of a corpse.

Then he walks away, leaving me to wonder if

he was a real person or a ghostly apparition that

chose that moment to fart forth from the

ectoplasmic sphincter of hell to confound me with

his presence for a moment. He never said more than

those three words to me.

Encountering fans isn't always that strange,

but it's always at least a little strange. Some people

just want to say hi or get a handshake. Others want

pictures. No one has ever wanted an autograph

before. I have been interrupted mid-meal before,

however, by a Christian. Do unto others? Peh.

Would he like some stranger interrupting his dinner

to debate him? I think not. I was polite to him, but I

was not obligated to be by circumstance, since he

was being extremely rude to me by disrupting my

meal and my conversation with my friends.

There was another guy in a laundromat who

shook my hand when he recognized me, but

immediately said in a very sour voice that he was not

a fan of my work. I shrugged and said I was sorry to

hear that. He later wrote about how I must be trailer

trash because I was at the laundromat—I guess he

forgot that the only reason he knew that was because

he was there too.

6. INSOMNIAC

Some strange shit happens when you go for a long

time without sleep. Sounds get deeper. And I don’t

mean deep like Leonard Cohen’s voice, I mean deep

like the ocean. The sounds feel like they are

threatening to encompass you. And they feel farther

away.

Another odd thing: my head always feels like

it’s wherever it
was
, as opposed to wherever it
is
. I

feel like my sense of my own head's position is on a

three second delay. So, intellectually, I know my

head is in position B, but my gut tells me that it’s still

in position A—even though position A was seconds

ago.

This too is strange: everything is boring, even

if it’s not. When you're sleep-deprived you can be

excited, and bored with your excitement at the same

time. Bored excitement. Dull fervor.

And strange thoughts!

7. NOISY NEIGHBOR

I used to have a neighbor named Bo who was insane

about noise. Now, before you decide that I’m an

incredibly loud and inconsiderate person who is just

unaware of what a douche bag I am, let me make my

case.

The first problem I had with him was when I

was watching a Nostalgia Critic video late at night

with my friend, Galen. At first, we were watching the

video fairly loudly, so I didn’t begrudge my neighbor

for tapping on his ceiling (he lived below me) to get

me to shut up. After I turned it down, his banging

continued. So I turned it down even more. To the

point where even I could barely hear it over the

sound of my my own breath.

My asshole neighbor came upstairs and

banged on my door, demanding that I turn the

sound off or he would call the police. I told him,

“Fuck you. Call the police.” And he did! The police

showed up. They told me to keep it down. I told them

that I was keeping it down, but my neighbor was just

a lunatic.

A few months later, my landlord called me and

told me to shut my toilet lid more gently, because Bo

was complaining that the momentary *clack* of the

toilet lid closing was profoundly disturbing to him. I

started shutting the lid softer, since it was clear at

this point that my landlord was taking my neighbor's

side.

Bo also complained if I walked too loudly (or

walked at all too late at night.)