07/18/09 - PASTBLAST - Nepalese Embassy
PASTBLAST – Nepalese Embassy
(This is a piece I wrote and performed last summer, at the tail end of my brief tenure in the diplomatic world…confused? Good, ‘cause that’s the reaction I was going for. Read further…)
When people ask me what I do, I say “I’m a comedian.” And people usually say, “No, what do you do for work, for your job”… and I think “Fuck you”, but I say “You mean, what do I do for money? Well, I work at the Nepalese Embassy.”
Now, I’ve been telling people about the Nepalese Embassy for months now, to various levels of confusion. And as time has gone on, it’s been the subject of disbelief, speculation, impromptu public interrogations, and loose talk from what can best be described as “hater bitches”. And frankly, the novelty of it all has pretty much worn off for me. So I wanted to go ahead and clear the record on two points:
1. Yes, the “Nepalese Embassy” is the downtown Papa John’s, and
2. FUCK YOU!!
GOD! You know, I don’t come up to you and knock the lies you tell yourself to get out of bed in the morning out of your mouth… and my lies are more interesting than yours anyway! Shit, last night I convinced a girl that this month is National Date-Rape Month, in honor of Dr. Alvin Roofie, inventor of the first date-rape drug in 1910! She’s like, “Really?” I’m like, “NO! It’s ‘cause I lie better than you!”
And what pisses me off is I’m always willing to live other people’s lies! I have been a fake boyfriend at numerous formal and casual functions; I’ve forgotten the significant others of various friends for their immediate (usually sexual) benefit, not MY own; I have no less than 22 different nights that I am sworn to secrecy on; and when a woman fakes an orgasm, I pretend to believe it! My rule is, if it don’t slow my roll, it’s all good! Say what you gotta say! But do I get that back? HELL NO!
So, yes, I work at Papa John’s. Are you satisfied? Is it everything you hoped for and more? I’m 32 years old and work at a fucking pizza joint—badly! I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been there seven months; it’s not like I haven’t learned a couple of things, like when to steal toilet paper, or how to make a pizza. And let me tell you, I can make a fucking good pizza. But apparently it’s not Nepalese good…
I wasn’t kidding about that—everyone I work with is from Nepal. Where’d you think I pulled “Nepalese Embassy” from, just thin air? It’s like 15 of them! And ALWAYS just three white people… As soon as I started working there, Zach from Paper Airplanes was like, “That’s it… And I’m out! See ya!” Course, he didn’t say it like that, ‘cause he’s whiter than me, but that’s what happened. And in like two weeks, all of a sudden I’m the Senior White Guy on Duty, or SWGoD for short…
So that’s what I do. I’m a fucking shift manager at Papa John’s. Or I was, until I pissed off my boss and got fired two months ago. And if you’re doing the math on that and missing some pieces, yeah, me too. He just kept me putting me on the schedule, and made no secret that he was looking for someone to replace me. Which is of course just the kind of comfortable and nurturing environment we ALL want to work in. Actually it was both depressing and funny, because in seven months I’m the only new hire to stay longer than a week, so I couldn’t wait to see who the hell they were going to get.
Then came Riverfest, and my hours doubled for two weeks, and that sucked more balls than a Bingo hopper. And at the end, for all my hard work, a fat kid from Andover ended up with my hours, and I was transferred to the farthest outreach of the Embassy, the Himalayas, if you will—the Lawrence-Dumont concession stand, with half my normal hours. Now, to my former co-workers, I’m like the Yeti of their homeland—a large white beast, feared by some, rarely glimpsed outside of Fridays when I go get my paycheck, but nonetheless the stuff of Nepalese pizza legend.
There’s more to the story (there always is), and some other time I’ll get into that. But for now, you got what you needed, so just love that for a while. I’m gonna go outside and shake this whole damn experience off.
Reason #14 that I pursue comedy—no other marketable skills,
JG
