30 Days Minus 2 of Writing, Day 4: Friendship

Friendship is hard to come by. Even if you’re lucky enough to find another loser to hang out with, the slightest differences can separate you. You love action movies, he loves comedies. You love fast cars, he loves fast women. You love your girlfriend, he loves her, too, mostly because she’s fast.

So imagine how hard it would be to make friends if you didn’t have a face. That was my dilemma after mine unexpectedly fell off at Nancy and Bob Turk’s wedding last year.

There are no advantages to being faceless except that you don’t have to shave. At parties, for instance, people irritate you to death by offering you useless advice.

“Have you considered superglue?”

“The juice of a fresh aloe plant is very good for the skin.”

“My sister had a friend whose second cousin knew somebody who had her face reattached by a forensics expert who used to reconstruct the faces of murder victims for the FBI. Maybe I can get his number for you.”

Eating with people is also a huge problem; You can’t fully appreciate the value of cheeks until you don’t have any. I recently asked a beautiful woman out for lemon-drop martinis and chili, and ended up soaked in a tangy mess of beans and tomato sauce that horrified her so much I abandoned my plan to kiss her goodnight.

Not that I could’ve kissed her anyway. Not without lips. We would’ve had to settle for sucking tongues.

Co-workers can be friends and they try their best to treat me nicely. But it’s challenging because they feel like I’m always staring at them. Plus, they can’t decide if I’m grinning or grimacing when we’re making small talk around the cooler. And if I hear a good joke and make the mistake of belly laughing, the clattering of my teeth can sound like gunfire, sending the office into a panic.

Not that work matters much, because the best jobs for skullheads like me are already taken. There’s not as much call for hot-headed, crime-fighting Ghost Riders as Nicolas Cage might lead you to expect. Haunted house work is strictly seasonal, and in Hollywood talking skulls take a distant backseat to vampires, werewolves, zombies and mummies.

About the best employment a faceless person can hope for is stocking shelves late at night at Wal-Mart, and it’s damnably hard to find a friend there you’d want to keep. Most of them already have skulls tattooed on their arms, and it’s disheartening to be constantly reminded you weren’t their first best friend.

So what do I do for friends?

Facebook is out. Too ironic.

Maybe I should get a kitten for company. At least it won’t be able to wake me up in the morning by sitting on my face.

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Well, it’s day four of Nicky and Mike’s blogging challenge, and I’m exhausted. Craving pizza, too, although I doubt it’s related. To read what others are writing, please click here.

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31 thoughts on “30 Days Minus 2 of Writing, Day 4: Friendship

  1. Hey Mike, we could be friends. When I had a cold a couple of weeks ago I sneezed my nose off. And the other day my cab driver talked my ear off. And then one day I was walking in the field and a bird swooped down and pecked my eyes out. So you can see that I’m well on my way. What do you say?

    • NoName, I’ve long thought of you as a friend, and would love to drop by and stay with you and your lovely wife — seriously dude, how’d you pull that one off? — for a week sometime.

      • I dunno. It’s a mystery. It certainly wasn’t my money that attracted her. I don’t have any. Must have been my good looks. Before all that nasty stuff happened to my face.

  2. “Most of them already have skulls tattooed on their arms, and it’s disheartening to be constantly reminded you weren’t their first best friend.”

    Hehehe, this piece is just full of funny lines. Nicely done, Mike, you’re not too bad for a guy without a face.

    • Thank you kindly, Ziva. I appreciate the old, I don’t know what to say because I’ve just read 28 posts in a row and I’m burned out so I’ll just quote a line because that’s flattering to the author approach. Works all the time for me, too.

    • I’m always on my own. We’re all always on our own, despite appearances to the contrary. It’s a wonder that any of us survive, really.

  3. I’m already very wary of what you’ll do with tomorrow’s post. You really must hook up with an illustrator and publish this series. And yes, the “Facebook” line is fucking gold! :)

  4. Facebook… ironic… classic MikeWJ!

    As for visiting Dufus… that would be classic, too. The man with noname meets the man with no face. (But I’d still suggest taking an ax… just in case.)

    • I’d love to visit NoName and a bunch of other bloggers I sort of know via the Net. I imagine I’d be horribly disappointed, and that would ultimately free up a lot of my spare time.

  5. It’s so weird, because my colleague was just telling me today that her husband’s brother’s neighbour’s cousin’s friend’s dentist’s secretary’s father’s mechanic’s mother’s gynecologist had the same thing happen. But apparently they just nail gunned the thing back into place. No need to get their number, I’ve got an air compressor and a nail gun. Glad to help. After all, what are friends for, amiright?

  6. “How is he going to incorporate a fallen-off face into today’s topic?” I asked myself. Then I saw it all unfold before my eyes. This subject is truly a treasure trove. Amusing as ever.

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