I’m not one of those weirdos who’s all hung up on her age, but (she says, disowning her previous statement) with only thirty-two shopping days left before my thirty-fifth birthday, I’m wondering what the hell I’ve ever learned. A lot of our Chaos themes are chosen as a result of conversations, usually about things that couldn’t be called sources of pride, but this one is particularly special to me.
I’m a little more settled these days, but for much of the 1990s and the first few years of the 2000s, I had a tendency to go on holidays by mistake. No, I’m giving myself too much credit. I went on each disastrous journey with the full alarming knowledge (which I uniformly silenced) that I wasn’t thinking it through, swearing that this time, the little shriek from my gut really was the voice of my inner cheerleader, some purer form of myself that knew best. I’ve never had a burning wanderlust, and I never went backpacking (and uniformly despise backpackers anyway). No, what I have is errorlust. Just when I extract myself from one situation and before the rash even clears up, I’m off again, chasing my next humiliating regret. It’s my specialist subject.
But I’m not flighty. I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty sensible person, but because I’m so sensible, I think I can handle situations that are a lot stupider than normal situations are. I’m so logical, so dependable, so fuckin’ set-your-watch-by-me-reliable that what’s it to me if some dude I just met invites me for a walk in the woods? After all, I’m hardy! I am so urbane, no wood can defeat me! Or y’know, when you’re ploughed across the square of a town in the Mississippi delta, or you’re told there’s a doctor on the next island if you’ll just climb into this boat and move the harpoon to one side and don’t mind the cyclone or the sharks, or you’re so crippled with altitude sickness that you lose your fear of being lost alone in the high Andean desert in the middle of the night — my point is this: in the twisted wreckage of what has so far been a mostly wasted (but entertaining) life, my main contribution to the world seems to have been my own folly.
I’ve got a string of stories relating to by-the-skin-of-my-teeth incidents from which a normal, sane person would have learned a valuable lesson. In fact, a normal, sane person normally and sanely has only one or two of these stories, having learned not to repeat their previous mistakes. But not me! I’m solid. I’m hardy. I love the hot stove! Touch it! Touch it! Okay, fine I’ll touch it.
No, I never go on holidays by mistake. All errors are my own. And there are some teasers below. So don’t forget to vote. Which of these hurriedly devised story titles intrigues you most?
1. Twisted wreck (was called “Run away with me”)
2. Anus and Andes
3. Shaaaaahk!
4. Wrong hole.
Don’t pity me, I’ve done it all to myself. My humiliation is a coat of many colours, and no, I won’t put it on the bed in the spare room when I come to your party. Which reminds me: can I come to your party? Like I always say to the people who are still willing to let me have their phone numbers, I might not be the richest, prettiest, or smartest person you know but I’ll never be your most boring friend.
And speaking of hardy and dependable, I’m late to meet my fellow Chaosette for a scheming dinner.
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It’s so hard to choose between these.
At first I thought, “Wrong hole” because, you know, there’s already an anus one, so it can’t be that again (can it?), but then I reconsidered … what if it’s just a build up to that one pun? Maybe that wouldn’t be my first choice after all. So I changed my mind and went for “Twisted Wreck”, thinking it has Something Of The Night about it, and who’s that who is asking Jane to run away with (presumed) him?
But then again, I can’t really imagine a Jane-Story having just one pun. So maybe the “Wrong Hole” one really is an entertaining and intricate story of Jane’s exploits while potholing in The Burren, so I’m lost again.
I’ll just have to eeny-meeny-miney-mo it …
And the vote goes to: [drumroll please] … Twisted Wreck.
Thank you.
A
no.4 sounds by far the most intriguing.
i will always want to know more about holes in error.
To elaborate (and further obfuscate):
Whatever you think about how gross or disturbing Wrong Hole sounds, triple it.
Anus and Andes is the least funny, and involves a lot of vomit and human feces.
Shaaaaaahk! involves a lot of bruising.
Much of Twisted Wreck takes place in the state of Mississippi.
As with the majority of my stories, they all end with “and then he broke up with me”.
I’ll go for Twisted Wreck, if only because (a) it sounds like it might be hilarious and tragic at once (and who doesn’t love a hilarious tragedy) and (b) because no one else has voted for it, and I like to stand alone in these things. Obviously.
Aoife voted for Twisted Wreck! So that’s two votes. Twisted Wreck is catching up on Wrong Hole.
Wrong hole sounds interesting. Gets my vote anyway
Choosing here seems less like “what sounds most intriguing” and more “what sounds least likely to blow out my low cringe tolerance” — thus two and four are right out, and while I was initially more tempted by what sounds like it would end up a guttural cry, i’ve never been to Mississippi. So my vote goes to “Twisted Wreck”.