A WARM WELCOME
"You know, I was thinking about who I would like completely out of my life."
Ever since I read that in my friend Erin's sixth-grade diary I have been thinking of Who I Would Like Completely Out Of My Life. And I have to say the WIWLCOOML list — or Welcome, for ease of pronunciation — has gotten rather unwieldy. I mean, I've turned into Joe Pesci from "Goodfellas," whacking people left and right for minor offenses and imagined insults. The least faux pas can get someone on my list. I'm glad it's not a hit list per se, because, as much as I'd enjoy it, I really don't have time to plan and carry out a bunch of mob-style executions. I barely have time to even fantasize about them.
Erin's list, if you read her diary, was relatively short: "I've decided on Susan, Cheri, Matt, Melissa and Steve."
I'm sure she has added a few names in the 14 years since she started it. My own name has probably made an appearance there a time or two. It may be there now. Those biscuits I made Sunday were kind of tough.
The Welcome list — as in you are welcome to leave my life at any time now — is a handy title, not just because it's a substitute for an awkward acronym, but also because, as you might imagine, the contents of such a list are delicate and potentially dangerous. If it has a congenial name, like Welcome, people who find it — for example, your mother while she's cleaning your already-clean house with a toothbrush — will just think it's a fun guest list. "Look, there's my name!" she'd smile. Then your only worry would be if she secreted it away to use while planning your surprise birthday party.
Which reminds me. If my mom invites any of you to a surprise party of any kind, tell her no. If you say yes, you will immediately get on the list, provided you aren't already. I loathe surprise parties. No exceptions. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Bon voyages. Proposals. Especially proposals. Good God, if anyone got on bended knee and popped — I loathe that word — the question to me in a public place, I'd have to say "No!" followed closely by "Surprise!" I'd have to turn the tables, even if in another context I would have gladly said "Yes!" Even if, as Miss Jean Brodie says, it were the Lord Lyon, King at Arms. I would have to refuse because I am devoted to candor in my prime.
Obviously I can't tell you who exactly is on my list. That could have all sorts of unpleasant consequences. But we can talk in broad strokes, as it were — by reference to types rather than individuals. For example, bossy people. They are welcome to leave my life at any time. And judgmental people. And willfully stupid people. And insensitive people. And people who don't know how to pass others on the sidewalk. And people who are too literal. And people who lie all the time. And phonies. And people who use excessive product in their hair. And people who say things like "the next level" and "kick it up a notch." People like that.
Today one of my students came very close to getting on the list. He gave me excuse No. 43 why he missed class: "I have developed a urinary problem that makes me have to go to the bathroom if I drink a lot, and I didn't want to be getting up and down during class." Apparently this is a rare condition. Some other excuses, not necessarily from him: "It was raining this morning and I left my umbrella in a friend's car"; "My alarm clock was set for p.m., not a.m."; "My girlfriend's mom was visiting"; "I needed a day off"; "I had to go to a tanning appointment for this wedding I'm in"; "I had to study for another class."
Out! Out of my life! If these excuses are lies, get out of my life! And if they are true, get out even faster!
The only reason this kid did not make my list in the end was because I saw him later at the student union. He was wearing a blue KU basketball T-shirt, and on the back it said in giant white letters: "WIN OR LOSE, WE'LL STILL BOOZE."
Now that warmed my heart. I never would have expected such a lofty sentiment from him — something so stoic and Epicurean all at once. His sophisticated worldview, alas, redeemed him from the list.
From time to time, of course, everyone is on my list. Yes, occasionally I Would Like Everyone Completely Out of My Life. The only ones left would be me and my dogs.
And sometimes it would be just the dogs.
posted by kc @ 3:45 PM
17 comments
17 Comments:
I'm afraid to comment on this post.
I remember a time when I was mad at every single person on the desk. Every single person. And I drank a beer at dinner so I could come back for the evening and not go off on the lot of you, or get fired, or both.
Oh, and it was the jt era, just to clarify. Or perhaps that goes without saying.
Benjie, what are you afraid of? (sinister laugh)
cl, was it a particular night? what did we do??
Ben's afraid he might kick it up a notch to the next level.
And cl, a couple times I had a beer during dinner before coming back. But not because I was mad -- it was a quarter at Free State and I was waiting on my country fried portobello.
Sara here again -- cl, I'm sure there were many nights you wanted me out of your life and off the desk forever. You know, I was fond of jt, but I'm starting to realize I was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Yikes.
kc -- I'm shocked at some of those excuses. Whether or not they're true, you don't say stuff like that to a teacher! Did they not realize how dumb and self-centered they sounded? Make up something, at least. Good god.
Awesome. Next time someone pisses me off, it'll be "Welcome to my list!"
What am I afraid of? Let's see:
"For example, bossy people. They are welcome to leave my life at any time." Check.
"And judgmental people." Check. (These first two have to be taken together, because you're the only person I boss around, and you're the only person I don't judge harshly.)
"And willfully stupid people." Check.
"And insensitive people." Check.
"And people who don't know how to pass others on the sidewalk." Check.
"And people who are too literal." Big check. Sometimes. (But doesn't this describe you sometimes, too?)
"And people who lie all the time." No.
"And phonies." Nope, I'm actually like this.
"And people who use excessive product in their hair." No way. I only use conditioner.
"And people who say things like 'the next level' and 'kick it up a notch.'" Gross! That sounds like B-school b.s.
Let's see. I scored 60%. Egads! How long till you welcome me?
Benjie, those were just examples, so you are probably in far more peril than you think.
Plus, don't forget, I often wind up on my own list.
George, I am glad I didn't know quarter beers were available at the time.
I'm not sure what set me off, but I'm pretty sure it was a Wednesday. Wait, maybe that was the day of the staff meeting when Erin informed me I was "naive."
Erin said you were naive? Let's beat her ass at recess. Then let's tell Steve she eats boogers.
Why did that little tart call you naive?
Oh, it doesn't matter now. I always liked working with Erin anyway because, unlike Becca, she understood that you had to do reads on stories for the paper to come out on time.
(Props to Sara, too ... you were efficient!)
I said you were naive? I don't remember that.
Well, everybody should Drink At Work. Particularly Teenage Girl Presidents.
KC, you should consider writing a screenplay based on the WELCOME list and the surprise party. As it is, I bet you could land a contract just pitching this post. I’m going to shoot your movie, but I won’t do casting. Find somebody else for that.
Try to get the "Win or Lose, We'll Still Booze" guy to play himself.
Oh God. I love Teenage Girl President.
A movie based on the mistaken guest list — the guest list from hell — would be amusing. I'd want it to be like Sartre's "No Exit," but funny. And with a lot of cocktails and cigarettes.
And finger food, and lounge music. Maybe shoot it in that late 60s, early 70s Euro-style.
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