My friend Nick sent both the funniest and second funniest emails that I’ve ever received. Being the nice guy that he is, after much nagging and atleast two blackmail attempts, he’s agreed to let me post them both. I’m not sure which one is funnier, but I’ll whet your appetite now with the first email and save the second for a later post.
Nick is brilliant, and anyone who knows him will tell you the same. Oftentimes “sharp” is used instead of “brilliant” to describe him. He’s one of those guys that you talk to and then afterwards realize how not funny you are. An extremely rare mixture of cool, wit, and smooth-ness, Nick is a rare bird indeed. And ladies, last I read on page 6, he’s single.
I’ll let him take it from here in this email sent to friends before returning home from a year in Thailand. Part 2 is coming, but tell me this isn’t an astounding literary feat:
Subject: The Repatriation Proclamation
Hello again, friends.
With my last few days in Chiang Mai melting away in the impossibly hot heat, time seems ripe for reflection. I am very very sad to leave this place. I appear to be crying but that’s actually just my eyeballs sweating. Different? Counts? Ok so then I am crying. My entire body is weeping. My grundle and leg pits are inconsolable. It’s a pungent sadness. I really like it here, and have even gotten used to living without air conditioning. I wonder if it will be hard for me to go back to a cool and dry world. Perhaps I will just have to sleep in a sauna, until I readjust. Also, I am excited, but at the same time worried, about cheese.
In exactly one week I will be back home. It will be great to see my family and to reconnect with many of you. That being said, I don’t want anyone to be caught off-guard when they first see me, so I think it’s best to prepare you a little.
I’m different now. This year, this country, this life, have all changed me. Cliched as it may sound, I have been altered by the countless new experiences I have had in this post-college time abroad. Looking back on my former self, I think the transformation has been quite remarkable. It’s hard to explain, but here are a few quick examples.
I think differently now. If my old way of thinking was, let’s say, apples, then my new way of thinking is the absolute furthest thing possible from apples. Pears. You probably don’t understand. That’s because you just aren’t capable of the level of different thinking necessary to understand true difference. Most people aren’t, don’t feel bad. But trust me, it’s pears. The faces I make now are different as well. They are confusingly beautiful faces.
I experimented with Buddhism for a while, even combined it with my jewish upbringing to form Budaism, and then eventually, Jewddhism. Then as I continued to grow, spiritually, I tossed in a pinch of Hinduism, a splash of Taoism, a thimbleful of Southern Baptist-infused Televangelism, a dollop of Voodoo and a dash of Islamic fundamentalist vinaigrette for flavor. What I came out with is called Voobrewdali’llamaramaslammabammaslamtasticism. As theologies go, it’s pretty much the tits.
I taste noticeably saltier. I still don’t wear corduroys, but if I were to stumble onto that PERFECT pair…
I have taken on some characteristics of my brothers and sisters from the animal and plant kingdoms; the trappings of bonds forged during my prolonged journey into the savage depths of the jungle. The keen eyes of a hawk. The balance and single-minded determination of an ant colony. The impressive phallus of an aroused gibbon. The seamless fluidity of a jaguar. The patience and serenity of a palm frond. The sardonic brow of a speckled jungle shrew. The ruthless cunning of that microscopic fish that follows your pee-trail back up your pee-hole and pitches spiky little tents all up and down your pee-pipe.
I wear a watch but I never look at it. I don’t conceptualize time and space in the traditional sense anymore. For me, it’s always ‘go-time’ and wherever I am, that’s ‘the zone’. Seriously, look at my watch. It just says ‘go-time’ ‘go-time’ ‘go-time’ ‘go-time’ . One hour for me might take an entire week for you, with each second full of more spiritual significance than you will probably achieve in an entire lifetime. I pour the sands of time out of the hourglass and make sand sculptures of mermaids with killer racks. I have bequeathed my earthly form to the cosmic powers that be and allow their infinite wisdom to guide me. Sometimes that means skipping over a Wednesday and banging out two Thursdays in a row. Sometimes that means spending a week straight making a collage out of cigarette butts and bubblegum I pick up outside KFC.
I sense things other people can’t, like when toasters are grumpy or when friendly looking people have crabs. I’m never ever wrong, about anything, even for a second, not even Sudoku. My facial hair can change minute-to-minute to reflect my shifting emotions. Think of a mood-ring. Now keep thinking about it but also think of my hairy face. Yes, perfect.
Instead of just stacking a full toilet paper roll on top of the holder or stacking it on the back of the toilet, I put it in the holder. Then I take the empty toilet paper roll out of the holder as soon as it’s finished and throw it away or use it as an incense stand or a makeshift bong or a skateboard park for my ant friends.
If this year has taught me nothing else about the world it’s that just like toilet paper rolls stacked on the back of the toilet, things in life will always fall, and they will always get wet and gross when they do, because the bathroom of life has no separate area sectioned off solely for showering so the floor of the bathroom of life will invariably be wet and gross. In Voobrewdali’llamaramaslammabammaslamtastic culture, when someone says something deeply profound, it is a sign of acknowledgment and respect to snap three times and then vigorously pleasure yourself. So go ahead and take a minute, then continue on reading.
I think you get the idea, and if not, you’ll see for yourselves soon enough. I hope that these changes in me are not too shocking or off-putting and that you can find it in you to accept the new, and, I think, improved Nick. Oh yeah, another thing, I don’t go by Nick anymore. I have come to be known by my Thai name ‘Pee-Dang-Fuck-Me-My-Cow-Cop’, which of course means ‘do you have any respected elder red rice pumpkins?’. Don’t worry if you’re pronouncing it incorrectly for the first few weeks, as i’ve mentioned in my past emails, the tones can be kind of a bitch to get used to.
I hope to shine some of this brilliant light that I’ve been blessed with on you and pray it wont do too much permanent damage to your spiritually impoverished eyeballs. Your gaudy, oversized “Ray Bans” or “Gucci” sunglasses probably have decent UV protection — you sickening soulless prodigal capitalist shit-bandits — so you should be just fine. In the wondrous places I have been…you don’t need eyes to see.
So yeah, really pumped to see all you cats. Still, mostly just worried about the whole cheese thing.