A few years ago, back when shopping online was still just a weird alternative to walking to the store and picking up an item off the shelf, my buddy Scott was trying to find a present for his sister’s birthday. I don’t remember exactly what he was looking for, and I only vaguely remember him telling us that he found it on some obscure website – but I absolutely remember him telling us how, subsequent to his purchase, his credit card number had been stolen and was being used to make various unauthorized purchases.
The thief used Scott’s card to buy a pair of high top sneakers and (this isn’t a typo) a doll house. Scott called the police and told them the shipping address used by the thief for said doll house and the scammers were apprehended. Scott concluded the whole episode with a meaningful nod of the head, saying, “Now that I think about it, the website did seem a little sketchy.”
What’s my point here? Well for one thing, criminals aren’t always men in ski masks with guns. So beware.
But also, Right about now, having my identity stolen doesn’t sound like such a bad thing. 2006 has been a fucking awful year. Actually, calling it fucking awful is an understatement akin to calling that new girl on “The OC” “pretty cute for her age.” And I’ve got no solution for how to make it stop sucking. Seems like misfortune is the drug of the moment and I’m Courtney Love.
My solution? Well I don’t think people will be lining up to steal my identity at this point –
Cut to scene of two criminals looking at credit card records of crateandbarrel.com:
Criminal #1: “This guy looks good. Let’s steal his identity.”
Criminal #2: “Hold up, I’ve read this guy’s blog. He is having one SHITTY year. No WAY I’m taking this guy’s identity.”
Criminal #1: “But he’s got great credit.”
So I’m being proactive. I’m giving away my identity. Maybe it’s the belligerence, maybe it’s the intellectualism; whatever it is it’s not working anymore. So someone take it, anyone. I’m going to try my luck with a new one. I’m just not sure how to go about availing myself of it. Here are my options:
1. Highest bidder. Sure, it blows right now, but it’s like buying a great house in a poor neighborhood. All it takes is a Starbucks and some designer outlets and suddenly you’ve got a great girlfriend, funny memories and some pretty chiseled biceps all in a neighborhood full of timid white people.
2. Think of a number between 1 and 100. Whoever guesses it gets to give me $100 for it.
3. Pitch it as a reality show in Hollywood: “So You Think You Can Be Belligerent And Intellectual?” Contestants will battle one another in contests of wit, mathematical acumen and knowledge of cheeses. At the end of every episode I’ll storm onto the set screaming, “Jesus, you suck like a [typical simile]!” sending another disgraced contestant home.
4. Put it on Craigslist under the heading: “I’m angry and smart – and not from Williamsburg!”
And then of course there’s the matter of a new identity. I’m not sure yet what it should be and I’m certainly open to suggestions. I’ll probably end up picking it the same way I picked my college: by which one sounds the best. Or by which one is closest to my high school girlfriend who will dump me a few months into the first semester anyway. But that makes no sense, so yeah – I’ll go with the coolest sounding one.
Here are a few of my preliminary ideas:
The Weatherman. I’ve said this to my friends on more than one embarrassing drunken occasion, that I think “The Weatherman” would be a cool alias. Usually the pitch goes something like this:
(in slurring voice) “You know, not like a guy who predicts the weather. But like a guy who KNOWS the weather, you know? Like he’s so fucking cool that he KNOWS what’s going to happen, but not like just with sports and movies and shit, but with like MOTHER NATURE!”
The Daily Dumper. Not by choice. Apparently I’m known by this pseudonym by a few people who read my blog. Nothing more awesome than reading someone’s site, seeing a link in the sidebar that says “The Daily Dumper,” clicking on it and seeing a picture of your own face.
Grissom. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. (Internal monologue: “If only I wasn’t kidding . . .”)
Swingline. Because I’m looking at my stapler right now.
Dan. It’s not a bad name. And it’s served me well up until this point. But I know what you’re thinking – it lacks that quality that says, “I’m a mean motherfucker and you’d better read my blog because I’m bringing it like a mule!, which isn’t to say I’m bringing it slowly and deliberately, but rather with an unending wellspring of energy and determination.” I know, I’ve thought it before too.
So we’ll see. Send suggestions along and maybe one will pop out at me. If you can, refrain from using the words “gay,” “asshole,” or “vastly ugly.” Although I get it if the name just doesn’t work without their inclusion.