William Shatner? William Shatner. WILLIAM SHATNER!
Yesterday I realized that I've been spending a lot of time on what (as of yesterday) I've been referring to as "failure fantasies." I realize in reading it that it sounds like I'm fantasizing about failing, but really I'm just spending far too much time indoors, staring blankly at the sunny street outside, hashing and re-hashing the circumstances of every girl that I never got but really felt like I should've, and then re-writing these scenarios in my head so that I do. I'm ashamed to admit that sometimes the girl in question's disregard for me was so total (the word "friend" being either used or implied) that I often resort to mind control. It's the ultimate sad nerd plot device.
Hmm... reading that is a bit discomfiting, so I think I'll point out now that I don't fantasize about turning girls into sex-crazed automatons that I then take advantage of. Usually. No, what I do when I'm standing here accidentally being the creepy guy who stares out the window for no reason that the people across the way can discern is- I imagine a scenario in which I have the ability to know what to say and how to say it. That's pretty much it. I don't know why I don't just imagine myself as being smoother and generally more likable instead of, you know, a slightly handsomer super villain.
I suppose it's partially because I know that eventually these girls who (no longer) got away will want a higher standard of living (yes, my sadly involved fantasy scenarios are long term). For some reason my having a fantastic job that allows me to whisk them off to Europe or buy houses or whatever is far less plausible than my having the ability to make people give me their money with my special mind powers.
I can imagine what a turn on something like this must be for the ladies. Last time I went out I didn't talk to anyone because I suck at it, particularly when confronted by those lame standardized questions. But no longer!
"What do you do?"
"Oh well, when I'm not desperately looking for a new job, I spend a lot of time staring off into space wondering what it would be like if I could control girls with my mind."
Lame standardized questions are apparently one of the many the banes of my existence. Both in conversations with girls and job interviews, the moment somebody lets a standard question fall out of their mouth my brain slows down and my face goes kind of slack. I'm sure to the person I'm talking to it looks as though I'm having some sort of conversation induced mini-stroke, but really I'm just sagging against the wall of my head thinking "did you really just ask me that?" Followed by "WHY WAS MY ANSWER A LIE?" Then the conversation dies and I'm free to go home to wait for the phone call that never comes. HA! I'm such a liar. I never even get to the point of number exchanging, and it doesn't really count if they throw your resume away as soon as you leave.
I wonder if taking classes on how to interview well would improve my chances with the ladies. Wear a nice suit, but not too nice. Sit up straight, make eye contact, don't cross arms, think of a way to conversationally mention your reasonable skill with spreadsheets and customer service. Firm handshake. Don't linger.
Awww yeah... I totally forgot what I was talking about. I once wore a blue Versace tie to an interview at Kinkos.
...
This is real:
"It's the first ShatnerCon with William Shatner as the guest of honor! But after a failed terrorist attack by Campbellians, a crazy terrorist cult that worships Bruce Campbell, all of the characters ever played by William Shatner are suddenly sucked into our world. Their mission: hunt down and destroy the real William Shatner."