Okay. I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise never to mention it again.
I'm harboring evil feelings against the "Style Invitational" at the Washington Post. I should preface the tirade in which I'm about to engage with a pledge of respect for those who respond to the Invitational. Particularly those who respond religiously. They are, on the whole, a witty bunch. Some are a little cliche, at times. But generally, they're a funny and pretty sharp group.
I've always come up with like ten answers for every Invitational.
Except for the ones where they ask you to make up words. I hate made up words.
Except for Stray. Stray's my favorite made up word.
And I made it up. All by myself.
Strays are men living an actively straight life by choice. Or at least proclaiming to be living straight lives. And yet, everyone knows they're gay. Or at least that they should be gay.
Not that there's anything wrong with it.
But let's not talk about that. At least not here. Or at least not now.
Let's talk about the Style Invitational that moved me to email. The Invitational for which I was motivated to actually send in my wit.
The challenge was to come up with pick up lines specific to inside the beltway.
I couldn't help it. As soon as I read it, I had massive diarrhea of the brain. A virtual hemmorhage of brilliance.
"My love for you is as long, hard and relentless as a really good deposition."
"Hey babe, my top secret security clearance allows me entry to areas most men don’t even know about!"
"Madame Speaker, if you please, I’m in full session. Let’s go to the floor."
I imagined myself in a Capitol Hill bar talking to some idiot who thinks a graduate degree means something.
I’d really like to take you to dinner. I’ll have my secretary fax over a Conflict of Interest (COI) form for you to sign. Once that’s taken care of, we can proceed. By the way, I forgot to ask. Are you allowed to accept gifts? And, if so, is there a cap on contributions to your happiness?
I emailed my pick up lines in and proudly told everyone I was about to win the Invitational. Personally, I was betting on the deposition line, but I thought I had a bunch of possible winners.
Plus, I had steered clear of so many DC cliches.
No stupid requests to "show you my monument" or "put your Rock in my Creek."
No offer to "come on over to your party" or "show you how slow the wheels of government really can be."
No. My pick up lines were intelligent. And creative. And as clean as possible in a city where the National Monument resembles a part of the male anatomy.
I was positive I had captured the essence and spirit of Washington DC. Serious, seriously dull and captivated by regulations.
"I can tell you’re unsure about going out with me. Keep in mind that if I declare you a hostile witness, I can ask you leading questions. And once that happens, baby, I won't let you utter so much as a no to me. So wouldn’t it be easier to settle this matter now? Look, agree to say yes and you can avoid the pain, trauma and cost of having a jury decide what we all know your answer should be anyway: that you should go out with me."
And then it happened:
The winner wasn't me.
The winning pickup line was "Your beauty renders me as powerless as Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton."
Jeez.
It figures. It just had to be political.
What a humorless city this is when it really comes down to it. And if you're about to say it's just me, then just shut up now.
I mean, please shut up now.
So today's Invitational is this:
They say that the saddest words are "what might have been." What are the real saddest words?
First of all, I thought sorry was the saddest word.
But then I went back and sang the song over in my head and realized that sorry isn't the saddest word. Sorry just seems to be the saddest word.
I wonder what Elton John was trying to tell us.
Does Sir Elton know what the saddest word really is? Is he privy?
Oh god. That sounds so.....stray.
He clearly knows what the saddest word seems to be, but I suspect he also knows what the true culprit is.
And maybe there's actually a distinction between the saddest word and the saddest words. You'll notice that Elton John refers to the saddest "word" whereas the Style Invitational refers to the saddest "words."
Well, I definitely would say that even if sorry is the saddest word, it can never compete with the words that preceed or follow it.
"I can't marry you. I'm sorry."
Which words did you focus on in that there sentiment?
"You were rejected for the financing. I'm sorry."
Same question.
"I'm sorry. It's not me. It actually IS you.
The sorry's not going to make it to the memory of that conversation. The retelling of that story's going to be:
"And then he goes...."It's not me. IT'S YOU!!!"
No. I'm going to guess that people don't think sorry's actually truly that sad.
Sad....hhhmmm....I heard someone recently ponder eating a tortilla chip (mini-size) while reviewing the next day's workout.
"Well, I guess tomorrow's three thousand mile bike ride would justify this."
Those are some pretty sad words.
"Attention Target Shoppers: The store will be closing in five hours, forty minutes and thirty three seconds."
Very very sad words.
"I just got in."
Those words, uttered by anyone in a lap lane at the pool where all the lap lanes are full, are sadder than sad.
But the saddest word? One word? One tear-jerking, stomach-unsettling, heart-wrenching word?
Hhhhhmmmm....
Regret is pretty sad.
Not the superficial use of the word...as in "I regret that I won't be able to make your party," but the essential nature of the word.
I regret what I did. Or what I didn't do.
Regret's a sad thing. It's sad that you did or didn't do something worthy of regret. It's sadder still that you feel the regret. Instead of moving on and focusing on the present.
Paralysis seems a sad word. In the literal sense, of course, paralysis isn't desireable. But to be paralyzed by anything is sad - whether it's anxiety, fear, weakness, doubt or some other barrier - however imposed.
Chaos is sad. I imagine chaos - or discord or disharmony - to be the opposite of peace. And I'm not talking about normal conflict, which is a necessary part of life, but the true absence of peace and harmony - most importantly, internal peace.
So I go to Jiffy Lube today.
Did you know they wash your windows and vacuum your car? That was a nice surprise.
As I waited and watched the Jiffy-Festivities, I noticed the Jiffy-Man pulling each car-owner out to the work area, one by one.
Each owner was shown a car part. Then there would be a brief conversation. I wondered if the Lube-Dudes were incentivized to replace car parts.
Eventually, the second cutest Lube-Dude motions for me to come over. I step gingerly around the massive, scary Jiffy-Tunnels. I was anticipating the warning of a major beltway blow up if I didn't immediately replace this and that.
Jiffy-Joe shows me my air filter.
"This is your air filter," says Jiffy-Joe.
"Mmmm," I say.
"This is your air filter on drugs," says Jiffy-Joe.
Actually, he didn't say that. But I appreciate that you're still reading.
"It's kind of dirty, as you can see." That's what he actually said.
This is always the point where I want to ask a question that begs to be preceded by "I don't want to sound disrespectful, but...."
"I don't want to sound disrespectful, but is there ever a time after installation that an air filter wouldn't look kind of dirty?"
No. I did not ask that question. Jiffy-Joe was the second cutest Jiffy-Dude there. And he was very sweet.
I just waited.
And JJ popped the question: "Did you want to replace it?"
JJ's voice didn't have that imminent "car about to blow up!!" edginess to it. No "Danger, Will!!" urgency. No "you really need to take care of this, or else..." kind of tone.
I had a feeling that the air filter probably still had some filter life left.
So I breathed in and said "uh...no."
I may have also squinted slightly.
And tilted my head. Slightly.
I don't think Jiffy Lube's Jiffy-Dudes work on commission. And I don't think Jiffy Joe was sad. But I do think "no" is a sad word when preceded by an inward breath, followed by a pause, an "uh," a tilt of the head and a squint of the eye.
But Elton John's lyrics wouldn't have hit Top Ten if he's explained all that shit.
And the Style Invitational would require an entire section of the Sunday paper instead of one small portion of a page.
So how about the saddest pick up line in DC?
Now there's a fun challenge.
Not the saddest line as in the most pathetic. Saddest as in the one that you have to say yes to because you have an overwhelming feeling of pity for the person.
The most pathetic pick up line I ever fell for was in 1979. I was a bank teller over a summer vacation. A daily business deposit customer waited for me one day at lunch. He said "if I told you I liked you body would you hold it against me?"
God. If that wanker only knew what I've turned into. Someone who would now have him put in stocks and whipped in public for a line like that.
The only sadness there is that I actually fell for it.
But that was way long ago.
But a pity inducing pickup line?
Those are difficult.
It's a fine line between "let me be the one who makes your life better right now" and "let me be the one who makes you a better life, you poor pathetic person."
I'm pretty sure the only possible pity-inducing pickup lines can be related to one-time short-term unavoidable circumstances.
Like a broken ankle.
I would never turn down a guy with a broken ankle who needed help getting home or who just wanted a companion.
"I don't know what to do with my time since I broke this damn thing. I can't play sports or work out!"
That's a great pity line. Nobody can miss an opening like that.
Or a death in the family. That would buy a guy a good month or so of my attention.
"I haven't been able to laugh or enjoy myself since Great Aunt Betsy bit the dust."
yeah. I'm all over that.
But that's pretty much it.
I really do pity the guy who's sick, but I just can't hang with anyone who might be contagious.
And I certainly pity the guy who's been fired, but it's really just not a good networking strategy to hang with someone who's low on connections. I know that sounds cold, but please. Let's be practical.
Like I said, the pity line's difficult to pull off.
In my recent dating career, I happened upon someone who said he loved movies.
In the olden days, I would have jumped to attention. I used to be a sucker for anyone who loved movies. These days, I jump for less. I mostly just wait and watch.
But he said he loved movies. And suggested we share a movie experience. So I took the bait.
I asked what was on his list. What was he itching to see?
He didn't know what was out there.
I practiced peace, love and understanding. There are, of course, times when I don't know what's out there either. So I asked what some of his favorite movies were. Turns out he loved Jurassic Park.
That was the most recent movie on his favorites list.
I asked what he'd seen more recently.
"I haven't been to the movies in a while."
But I thought you love movies, I wondered.
"I'm waiting for someone to go to the movies with."
Well, I figured someone who'd waited that long could wait a bit longer. His pity line had backfired. It just sounded pitiful. Truly sad. And it didn't just seem sad, it was sad.
So, anyway, I guess I won't be sending in any entries to the Washington Post this week.
As usual.
I'm waiting for a more relevant Invitational.
I'm waiting for the challenge to create appealing and believable excuses for avoiding the holiday gatherings you should be attending. I want to get on that process early this year.
Now don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't want to go to holiday gatherings.
It's just that I want to go to the holiday gatherings of my choosing. Not just the ones I'm expected to go to.
So what about this?
"Oh, sorry (seemingly sad, but not the saddest word), I'll be unable to attend. I told my friend I'd help her put together her dinner. She'll be recovering and will need help."
The key here is to avoid mentioning what exactly she'll be recovering from. If you think about it, we're all in recovery at any given time. A breakup, breakdown, bad week, etc. Personally, I'm just getting over the most incredibly annoying little pimple. A plain view pimple - the worst kind. But I'm doing well, considering. Thank you for asking.
Or, you can always play the averages game.
"I can see you anytime, but I never get to see John. This will be his only trip out this year!"
And, of course, you can always give them something they can't argue.
"I didn't realize you were having Witches' Eve at your house. I already promised Magda I'd be at her broom burning."
But I guess that wouldn't be a very funny challenge. Helpful, but not funny.
So here's one:
For those who are sick of "Are you seeing anyone?" "When are you going to get married?" "When are you going to have children?" "Have you lost weight?" "Where are you working?" "Are you working?" "How long is this marathon?" "Is your hair longer?" "Did you get your hair cut?" and "Where are you living?"....
Come up with easy, yet effective responses to stupid or annoying questions:
So, what do you think about cheese?
Try it out!
"Bobby, tell me...are you working, sweetheart?"
So, what do you think about cheese?
Or this:
"Are you seeing anyone?"
So, what do you think about cheese?
Or this:
"I heard you're not with (fill in name here) anymore. What will you do?"
So, what do you think about cheese?
Granted, there are a million and one lines that could work here. And I'm sure there are many much better than cheese.
And I'd like to know what they are. Because I'm tired of stuttering in the face of the same old questions. And I want to be better prepared this season.
Sorry may seem to be the saddest word, but "where are you living/working/sleeping seems to be the saddest question.
The winner of the Invitational that I should have won got a Lyndon Johnson commemorative plaque. It's just as well because I'm trying to simplify my life. I really didn't need anymore junk.
Hey! Maybe that's the answer!
"You look like you've lost weight. Are you okay?"
"I'm trying to simplify my life. Oh, there's Ann. I need to say hello to her. Will you excuse me?"
That's it. It's an answer. It's not absurd. It's not like an actual made up lie. It could mean anything. And it's sufficiently confusing to shut the other person up.
Okay. I need to make some phone calls.
"Hi. Thank you for the lovely invitation to your Annual Anniversary of the Crowning of Haile Selasse. I'm sure the Chili Cook-Off will be spectacular this year. But I'm sorry, I won't be able to make it.
"But you always come to the Annual Haile Selasse Chili Cook-Off!"
"I know. I know. But honestly, I'm really just trying to...well....simplify my life. Oh, gotta go. Somebody's at the door. Have a super time!"
That's it.
Thank you Washington Post. I don't need your Lyndon Johnson plaque. Or first place.
It is funny that love is long and hard and relentless like a deposition.
So there.
And I won't be sending you any more responses.
"I'm really just trying to...well...simplify my life."