Part one of a three part series.
You’re sick of being a complex, multifaceted human being. There’s nothing more tiring and socially alienating than having a variety of interests, opinions, and types of friends.
When you’re with your film chums, you watch Sundance juror selection movies with such intimate, innovative handheld camerawork that they include a tab of Dramamine in the DVD case, but when you’re with your girlfriend, you watch Katherine Heigl comedies (which unfortunately do not come with Dramamine). When you’re with your old roommates, you snort poorly-cut coke and freak out on mushrooms; when you’re with your work friends, you drink wine coolers and play Taboo. When you’re with your family, you wear your spring-catalog periwinkle Lacoste shallow V-neck sweater; when you’re with your jaded, Marlboro-Reds-spokespeople friends, you wear something black and threadbare and depressive-looking.
It’s all just so confusing, requires too much effort and too many expenditures on your part. You wish you could Just. Pick. One.
Well, now you can!
Here are part one of three distinctive personalities for sale. Invest in one of these, and your days of being a middle-man, an all-around guy, are over. You’ll be able to have the sweeping opinions, the black-and-white views of the world, and the incuriosity about other ways of life and other types of people that you’ve always wanted. No more chameleon complex for you!
Prices range from budget-conscious to luxury. First up:
1. The Eco-Conscious, Effortlessly Cool Straight Dude That Wouldn’t Hurt a Fly
This is the guy that walks around Manhattan like it’s just an especially population-dense thicket of the rich, green forest that is Earth. If he could, he’d bathe in a river every morning, spend all afternoon tuning his ukulele, and then re-read Walden (for 1,386th time) fire-side in his one-room cabin.
Unfortunately, he has to live in a world where people prefer to walk on cement instead of dewy grass, wipe their asses with toilet paper instead of the fuzzy undersides of leaves, and buy whole-wheat, gluten-free, seventy-grain baguettes from Whole Foods instead of mill-grist from their personal farm. (He does all these things, too, but that’s just the cross he bears.) He’s a regular at Brooklyn apartment parties, coffee shops that don’t take credit cards, and only the weirdest-smelling book stores. He’s a limitless vortex of chillness and positive energy. He doesn’t give money to homeless men: he puts his forehead against theirs and osmotically injects the goodness of the universe into their brains. He’s a lover, not a fighter. He is surprisingly good at sex.
For this personality, you’ll need:
5 pairs of baggy drawstring earth-person pants, preferably in colors like light tan, dark tan, military, or olive, like these from SoulFlower.com ($46 x 5 = $230):
2 pairs of TOMS shoes (one for when the first pair falls apart): $82
A non-apple mp3 player, because you like the idea (and I mean you love music), but you’re morally opposed to having the most expensive version of anything: This Sony walkman is $40:
An eighth of high-grade cannabis, on hand at all times: $70
An apple and tin-foil to smoke it: $3
The healthiest version of everything: any food item x 2.5
Upper back tattoo of the Tree of Life with the top branches spelling out GAIA: $500
A Jansport backpack whose two front pockets are unusably hole-y: free (you found it in the garbage)
Only essential furniture: all free, you found it all on the curb, even the mattress that expressly stated: “Had beg bugs, do not use.” (Bed bugs are extant beings, too!) The only furnishing expense was the wood for your bookcase because you built it yourself.
A Bushwick studio that you share with an illegal immigrant and hitchhiker who’s not taking the hint: $200/mo
25 books from The Strand’s dollar rack, because all you need in life are your books: $25
This personality will save you on haircuts, soap, and night time activites. You also won’t need cable, internet, electricity, and you might try convincing your landlord to cut off the heat to your Bushwick studio, because you have your grandpa’s old mummy sleeping bag from his time in Nam, which is cozier than any ventilated, CARBON-FOOTPINT-LEAVING heat. So that brings you to a total of:
Around $1300. Guess you might have to pick up an extra shift at the co-op.
Tune in next time for The Asexual Apple Product Worshipper
Pic via
By Daniel Lefferts
