Born to be Mild

“Well, I’d rather be in a Barstow motel room snorting oxycodone off an Asian hooker’s ass, but this is fun too.”

Don’t you hate that moment?

You know the one … the “I would liquidate all of my assets and give it all to charity if I could just turn the clock back three seconds” moment. The moment you realize that you’ve completely misjudged your audience. The moment you become aware that you just blurted out something completely inappropriate, but can’t take it back.

It wasn’t completely my fault, though. In my own defense, he led me on.

Earlier today, a friend of mine asked for a favor. You see, he’s a freelance web guy, and he was meeting with a potential client about a potential job. The potential client, in this case, was an up-and-coming band from right here in the Puget Sound region.

“You’re familiar with the music stuff,” he implored me, “can you just be my wingman for half an hour? You don’t have to say anything, just the usual pleasantries”.

So, I get there, take a seat, and look over to see his client … a guy with a pink-tinged pseudo-mohawk, and I think “Now this … this … this guy … this guy’s a rebel. I don’t need to watch what I say around this guy. I can dispense with pretense entirely. This guy embraces diversity. This guy is tolerant … I mean … he has a fucking pseudo-mohawk for Christ’s sake.”

The next thing you know, he asks me how I’m doing, then I say the thing about the hooker, and before you know it, awkward silence fills the table as I pray for the mother of all earthquakes to strike and put me out of my misery. I mean, if Seattle is going to crumble into the sea anyway, now’s as good a time as any.

Here’s what I don’t understand, though.

Why do so many of you try so hard to look “alternative” when the reality is that you’re nothing but a bunch of easily-offended twats? The nose ring, the tongue ring, the tattoos, the lip ring, the eyebrow piercing … what is all of that about? Is that supposed to make you different? Interesting? What is it supposed to convey? I mean, I know suburban soccermoms who are way more edgy than the vast majority of you eyebrow-pierced folks, so what, exactly, is the point?

Once upon a time, when a guy had a mohawk, it meant something. Remember the Misfits? Remember Last Caress?

Now, you have to watch what you say around these folks. You have to measure your words lest anything you say offend their fragile sensibilities. Diverse and tolerant my ass. Posers.

When I got home, my tablet beeped, so I unlocked the screen.

“I can’t take you anywhere”, read the text message.

So, how was your day?