Leave Me Alone, I Hate You

In retrospect, B.G. doesn’t really seem all that strange. I was probably just jealous because he was prettier than me, and I couldn’t wear makeup or get my ears pierced until I was 15. And come on, pretty much anything he wore was better than MJ’s unfortunate nose job. 80’s androgyny aside, there is a lesson hidden here in the wide-looping cursive of a 12-year-old Michael Jackson apologist.

Life is filled with people just trying "put an impression on their fans" -- real phony baloney types. The put-on usually starts in the teenage years, when we’re all trying desperately to fit in -- or trying to fit in just enough not to stand out. But it seems to me that the desperate impress-a-thon continues way beyond 8^th grade, and it remains just as unpleasant now as it was then…much like adult acne. It begs the question, when are we all going to just give it a rest already?

We’re all guilty of the ole personal sham to a certain extent, especially when it comes to people we’re either dating or would like to be dating. We slip into this sheer gown of illusion and pretend to love stand up comedy, or Star Wars, or Russian novels, or holding hands. (if you actually love that stuff, ok fine -- just insert other things in there…though I wouldn’t brag about the holding hands bit) But hey, that’s dating, and dating is embarrassing and you can’t risk being yourself too early in the game.

What’s worse are the hard core fakers. You know the type. They’ve been pretending so long they don’t even know they’re doing it anymore. (or do they?)

For example, I grew up with this guy who did pretty well for himself. He moved away from our small Midwestern town which is in a lovely looking part of the country. He eventually was able to buy a small house there that he stays in while visiting the old neighborhood. One day on Facebook (where fakery runs rampant and mostly unchecked) I saw him referring to this perfectly normal, average house as his “cottage.” Cottage?! It’s a block and a half from our old high school. Does a hedgehog live there? Do bluebirds pull open your curtains in the morning? His house is a cottage like my apartment is a chalet.

One Vomitini, please. Shaken, stirred, and served up fresh.

My favorite phony is the rabid, haughty pseudo-intellectual. I’ve met several. And I’m here to tell you, they’re not all British. I recently worked with a guy who loved to brag (insert snotty tone here) that he had never watched a single solitary second of a reality show. Now, come on, I enjoy Downton Abbey as much as the next girl, but you’re lying if you tell me you’ve never laid eyes on a Kardashian or one of their ilk – even if only in passing. And if you are indeed lying, may I have permission to snatch your pretentious eyeballs out with a serrated grapefruit spoon?

Just asking.

We gave this guy the nickname “NPR” -- behind his back of course, like all good nicknames --because he loved to make references to timely, eloquent, profound opinions he’d heard on public radio and pass them off as his original thoughts. (apologies to National Public Radio which is a fine institution) Upon further questioning it would become quite clear that he couldn’t possibly know less about the topic than say…Kim Kardashian? (a reference lost on him, of course) “NPR” was equal parts self promoter and self congratulator -- boasting about not understanding the first thing about how unemployment works because he’d “never needed it,” and referring to his work as “important” on more than one occasion.

Once, he looked at me and said smugly, “I’m at a point in my life where I just don’t really care if people like me.” Again, I didn’t believe him, but I did think to myself – that’s good buddy, because they don’t like you. They really, really don’t.

Ultimately, I guess phony is in the eye of the beholder. Some of these people may just be genuine assholes, after all. And I’ll just bet half of them list “Catcher in the Rye” as one of their top twenty favorite books. I’ve wasted way too much time trying to poke holes in the facades of others. (but it is still my favorite sport) As a person who blogs under an assumed name, who am I to judge anyway? Today though, whatever happens, I'm going to make an effort to do it for myself, not the damn fans.

Also, I love Boy George.