September 8, 2004

Sick of it all

I used to think I was a shithead, but I now realize I’m just a fuckup.

by T.M. Shine

illustration: Van Arno

Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry.
— Hank Williams

9:09 a.m.: Feel as though I could sleep all day.

9:13 a.m.: Decide to call into work sick and injured. I’d been trying to do the Ali G flick, where he gives that little wrist a shake-snap. Nobody I know has been able to do it, and I know Pitbull and Trick Daddy and Ran Rover and Lil Jon. But I got close — damn close.

9:14 a.m.: But I’m paying for it today. My elbow is swollen, and the tendons leading to my thumb — do we have tendons leading to the thumb? — have all locked up.

9:15 a.m.: Call work and explain the situation. Boss says, “I don’t know if there are tendons leading to the thumb but … whatever.”

9:20 a.m.: Try to go back to sleep.

9:31 a.m.: Funny thing. Once you make that sick-and-injured call and realize you’re not going to work, you don’t feel that tired anymore.

9:41 a.m.: Eat some chocolate-covered Pringles.

9:47 a.m.: Take an unhealthy interest in the Country Music Television channel, which I’ve never had before. For years, I’ve been saying, “If I only had CMT, I could watch Austin City Limits.” Now, I’ve had it for several months and never tuned it in.

9:50 a.m.: Tune it in.

9:51 a.m.: At first I just like the different cast of characters. No Snoop, no Dre, no Em, no 99 Problems. And definitely no retro look back at the ’80s or ’90s.

9:53 a.m.: It seems when CMT looks back, it’s the ’30s and Johnny Cash’s first haircut or the ’50s and Hank Williams has done drunk himself to death in the back of a Caddy on the way to his 11,000th gig.

9:57 a.m.: How could you not get drunk on the way to your 11,000th gig?

9:58 a.m.: I have to get drunk on my second day to work each week.

10:03 a.m.: Marty Stuart fascinates me.

10:18 a.m.: Catch the last bit about someone who got shivved backstage at the Grand Ole Opry. I thought you could only get a shiv in prison.

10:20 a.m.: Go to look up shiv in the dictionary, because I don’t know how to spell it and I want to use it in a sentence later.

10:22 a.m.: Plus, I like to use the 40-pound American Heritage Dictionary my dad gave me as a gift the day before he died. Some say it was the weight of the dictionary and the three flights of stairs where I was living at the time that did him in. But he lasted almost a whole day after that.

10:25 a.m.: It is a lot of words though — 40 pounds of words.

10:29 a.m.: Can’t find shiv, but I find shit. I didn’t know that was in the dictionary. And shit-can and shitkicker, shitfaced and shitlist.

10:30 a.m.: I didn’t even know shitlist was one word. And they’ve got all the details.

10:31 a.m.: “shit•list (shit´list) n. Vulgar Slang A number of persons who are strongly disapproved of.” As in, You’re on my shitlist.

10:32 a.m.: I know everyone has a shitlist in their head, but do you think some people actually have one buried in a drawer with like their car title, last year’s tax forms and the suspended license they had for three years? It would be great to be rummaging through someone’s personal property and come across a sheet of college-ruled loose-leaf with “SHITLIST” neatly printed across the top.

10:33 a.m.: But it would probably read “SHIT LIST” because they never took the time to look it up in the American Heritage Dictionary and find out it’s only one word.

10:36 a.m.: Eat some vanilla Pringles. Glad I bought the variety pack.

10:38 a.m.: What if, when my mother croaks, I find out she had a shitlist?

10:38:41 a.m.: And I was on it.

10:39 a.m.: And my smelly brother wasn’t.

10:41 a.m.: Take dictionary out to TV with me so I can browse through shit definitions while watching CMT.

10:44 a.m.: “shit•load (shit´lod) adj. Vulgar Slang A large amount; a lot.”

10:44:12 a.m.: That’s simple enough.

10:52 a.m.: Coal Miner’s Daughter is the best movie ever.

10:54 a.m.: “shit-can (shit´kan) tr.v. -canned, -can•ning, -cans Vulgar Slang 1. To dismiss (an employee) from a position … ”

10:55 a.m.: … for claiming he injured himself while trying to master the Ali G flick.

10:57 a.m.: I like saying, “The art of shit-canning.”

10:58 a.m.: I picture a robust gathering of the human resources department at Bennigan’s and a raised voice above the clatter saying, “Shapiro over there is a master at the art of shit-canning.”

11:03 a.m.: I can’t believe Sissy Spacek did all her own singing.

11:07 a.m.: “shit•head (shit´hed) n. Vulgar Slang An inept, foolish or contemptible person.”

11:07:23 a.m.: I used to think I was a shithead, but I’m not contemptible.

11:08 a.m.: I don’t think.

11:08:17 a.m.: Look up contemptible.

11:11 a.m.: They’re detailing the life of some old lady from the Carter Family who invented a certain method of playing the guitar in a way that she does the lead and the rhythm at the same time. Very cool.

11:14 a.m.: I’d like to get my old guitar out and try it, but I am injured. I have a good excuse.

11:16 a.m.: Get some stationery and write an excuse note. “To Whom It May Concern: Please excuse Terry from playing the guitar like a member of the legendary Appalachian Carter family, since he recently injured his right arm while practicing the Ali G flick.”

11:17 a.m.: Had to do note lefty, so you can hardly make out what it says. But it’ll have to do.

11:18 a.m.: Some people should not stay home from work no matter how sick or injured they are. Some people need the structure of a work environment. Given the free time, we’re all only three or four hours away from writing indecipherable excuse notes.

11:20 a.m.: “shit•kick•er (shit´kik er) n. Vulgar Slang 1. A coarse, unsophisticated person. 2. A big, heavy shoe or boot.”

11:21 a.m.: I’ve never been a shitkicker, but I have worn shitkickers.

11:33 a.m.: Shania Twain had a rough childhood, and they haven’t even gotten to the part about her being an Indian.

11:33:12 a.m.: No, wait. She was an Eskimo.

11:34 a.m.: No, Jewel is an Eskimo.

11:35 a.m.: I don’t know. All I know is Tanya Tucker was hot!

11:40 a.m.: Alan Jackson wears shitkickers.

11:51 a.m.: “shit•less (shit´lis) adj. Vulgar Slang Extremely frightened. [From the reflex of involuntary defecation that can result from extreme terror].” Like, he was scared shitless when he realized he was addicted to CMT.

11:53 a.m.: “shit bricks (or a brick) To become extremely worried or frightened.”

11:57 a.m.: Get tired of all this shit, so look to see if fuck stuff also made it into the Heritage.

11:59 a.m.: “fuck•up (fuk´up) n. Vulgar Slang One who acts carelessly or foolishly; a bungler.”

12:00:15 p.m.: I wouldn’t mind that label. A bungler is harmless. Plus, you get away with stuff: Don’t give him that assignment; he’s a fuckup.

12:02:24 p.m.: Hey, shithead and fuckhead have the same definition. That doesn’t seem right.

12:03 p.m.: Compare shitfaced to fucked-up.

12:03:31 p.m.: Just as I thought.

12:04 p.m.: I may not know much, but I know that being fucked-up is worse than being shitfaced.

12:06 p.m.: Lee Ann Rimes has a beautiful voice, and she doesn’t have that Tori Spelling look about her anymore.

Contact T.M. Shine at tshine@citylinkmagazine.com.