Ah, Thanksgiving. A day to think about all the blessings in your life. Family and friends gathering, eating too much food, drinking too much drink, enjoying each others' company, etc., etc., etc. Of course, let's try not to think about the origins of the holiday, or how Uncle Leon is a raging alcoholic, or how cooking the stuffing inside the turkey as opposed to in its own pan may cause possible bacterial infection. Let's just focus on the positives: mashed potatoes, champagne, and good times.
But somewhere in Manhattan, someone's Thanksgiving is not so happy. Somewhere a man sits in front of his computer, wondering to himself "Why? Why can't I find a woman who shares both my religious views and my enjoyment of hairy ladies?" He stares at his screen, takes a sip of his Mountain Thunder, and scratches his head. "Tell me, Beowulf," he says plaintively, addressing his prized pet iguana, "Tell me what to do!"
The iguana stares at him, as iguanas are wont to do. In the stare, the man seems to see an answer. "Of course! That same girl! The one I've written to over and over, sometimes using the same text, who has never given me any reason to believe that she is interested in meeting, ever! I'll write to her once more. But this time - this time, Beowulf, I will write an email of such eloquence, such insight, that she will be forced to respond in the affirmative."
And so he types:
So is your armpit hair rather long yet?
Simple. To the point. Rife with meaning. Let's all say a word of thanks that on Thursday, at 6:23pm, The Naturalizer decided to strike again.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The time: Saturday, November 8, 8:10pm.
The place: The Naturalizer's apartment.
The Naturalizer sits alone, staring at his collection of Hummel figurines and crucifixes. As Teen Wolf plays on his 13" television set, unwatched, he sits back, takes a gulp of his store brand Dr. Pepper clone (Dr. Bold, perhaps) and toys with the fork left neglected in his Hungry Man salisbury steak dinner. He speaks:
"What am I doing? It's 8pm on a Saturday, and I would like nothing more than to be out on the town with a hairy, Jesus-loving lady. I thought I'd found one, but she spurned me - electronically!"
He hangs his head so that the bells on the jester hat he is wearing jingle in a pathetic manner.* His pet iguana stares vacantly at him, partly because it is an iguana, and partly because it is confused as to why he is wearing a jester hat. Suddenly, he jerks upward.
"I have the perfect solution! I will contact her once more! I still have her email address! Maybe, just maybe, if I say the perfect thing, she will come running back to me and we will live happily together in a land with no razors!"
He sits down at his computer, ready to burst with excitement. As he logs in to his email, his leg twitches in that way that dudes' legs sometimes twitch when they are nervous or just bored and you have to be like "DUDE. Your LEG." and they are like "OH. Shit." because they totally didn't know their leg was doing that. Thankfully for The Naturalizer, his only witness is the iguana, who doesn't care, as it is distracted by a particularly leafy piece of lettuce.
"But what will I type to this unseen, hirsute maiden? Surely nothing that springs from this mortal brain is divine enough to ply her to return - electronically - to my virtual arms. Oh, what to do?"
He sits, stymied, gazing at the framed 8x10 photograph of Rush Limbaugh gracing his wall, as though pleading with the man to send him guidance. Suddenly - an idea strikes.
With that, he presses send. What follows is the email he sent:
How are you? I have decided to give you one last opportunity. Perhaps, you have had time to think about your rude behavior in not responding to my emails. Besides, I can think of two good reasons-- 1. Its not easy to find a girl who does not shave and a guy who is appreciative of that.. and 2. we may share similar religious beliefs... And in ny that is not easy to find. How about it?
But this time I responded.
Let's see what happens.
I responded "Hahahahaha" to his email at 9:04am, then started writing this. By the time I was done at 9:28, he had responded: "So why not? What do you have to lose?"
HOW DESPERATE ARE YOU DUDE
*credit where credit is due: my 10th grade English teacher Mrs. Hunter (who was quite possibly the most awesome teacher ever, and had many a quotable moment), used this phrase in regards to the wonderful short story The Cask of Amontillado. I still love that story.