Think about it.

You have eight seconds of consciousness after your head is cut off at the guillotine and held up for the crowd to see. What do you do? What do you think?

Do I think of all those people I let down in my life, all those girls in high school I never quite had the guts to talk to, all the great things I would’ve done if I had the chance? Maybe, but let’s be honest, let’s face it – most of us, even with a second chance, wouldn’t actually do those things anyway. We’d think, Phew, that was close, and then go back to our normal city routines, plus maybe a little therapy on the side.

So, realistically, I’d probably think, Fuck, if I knew this was happening today, I definitely woulda gone for that haircut. I mean, if I’m gonna be held up, finally, in front of all these people, I’d like to at least look my best, you know? And then I’d glance from side to side to see if there was anyone I knew in the crowd, and, just as I raised my eyebrows in acknowledgement at someone, they’d drop my scruffy head to the ground.

The thing about dinner dates that I really hate is the eating part. Up until then, everything goes smoothly – you walk there together, you discuss your life plans, you compare menu choices. It’s once the food actually arrives that the trouble starts: conversation is marred and stilted by the inconvenience of chewing; eye contact suddenly becomes awkward – you don’t want to watch the other person eating, but you don’t want to look away either.

Then there are those really strange, cryptic looks you get from the other side of the table that make you wonder if this girl thinks you’re a freak or if you just have some sauce on your chin. So, hoping for the latter, you self-consciously dab your chin with your napkin and observe the results, like checking for blood on a shaving cut.

Really, I’d love nothing more than going out to a restaurant, ordering our meals, waiting for half an hour, and then having the chef come out and say, “Sorry folks, we’ve just run out of food.” I’d drop him a big tip to help ease his distress and leave thinking things went really well.

	The Dual Approach I got it. No, I got it. No, you take it.
	The Push-Pull Dilemma Some doors are just not clearly marked.
	The Crossing Point Something’s gotta give.
	The Holding Limit Where do you draw the line?
	The Stampede Chaos. Run!

3 Comments »

The Dumbstruck
(after standing in line for 10 minutes) “Oh, uh, oh geez, I’m gonna need a minute here…”

The Paranoid Vegetarians
“Oh my god, excuse me, is the corner of that piece of cheese touching that bit of meat? Oh my god oh my god oh my god!!!”

The Loser Boyfriends
(on the phone) “Okay, what sort of bread did you want?  Parmesan Oregano?  Okay, could I get Parmesan Oregano?  Cheese?  Did you want cheese?  What type of cheese can I get you?”

The Perfectionists
“Okay just a bit more lettuce… no, not that much, can you take a bit off? Okay that’s good.  And could I get seven tomatoes instead of six?  Oh no no no, not that slice, I’ll take that other slice…”

The Ditherers
“I’ll take lettuce… and let’s see… a bit of… green peppers… and, oh, hmm… maybe some onion?  No, no, I don’t know…”

The Sandwich Rebels
“Could I get the vegetables on that first, and then the sauce, and then come back for the meat?  Oh, and I’ll have that double-toasted, not single-toasted…”