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.
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.