There is this mass email I'm sure you've gotten. It's supposed to be a humorous look at the differences between the sexes. It's called "Perfect Day," as in what would be a woman's perfect day versus a man's.
The Woman's Day includes such predictable items as "9:15am: Soothing hot bath with frangipani bath oil" and "1pm: Shopping with friends: unlimited credit." But this isn't really the joke; it's the setup.
The real joke is the Man's Day, which is full of entries like "6:30am: Massive, satisfying shit while reading the sports section," and his day's activities include no less than four acts of fellatio at various points. The humor is supposed to be in the contrast, in the disparity between the carefully thought out, precise descriptions of the Woman's Day and the blunt, coarse bullet points of the Man's. The point is that girls are fragile, emotional, picky hedonists who enjoy comfort; while men are beasts who like tits, blowjobs, steaks, and golf.
Now, I definitely didn't feel like the Man's Day was a reflection of me or the men I know at all. I've never played golf, I'm a vegetarian, and I hate fishing. In fact, I think what the email should have been titled was "A Republican's Perfect Day," especially with the unsettling entry for 7pm, "Watch news: Michael Jackson assassinated." I'm not even going to touch that one, but you get my point. For all of MJ's fucked-up personal shit, a lot of us--and I think I speak for everyone who's ever lost their shit to "Billie Jean"--are still hoping for one last album.
What better way to confront such gross mischaracterizations of an entire gender than to cook up a Perfect Day of my own. So, I submit for your Monday reading pleasure: "Mik Awake's Perfect Day." Cue wavy dissolve, daydream harp...
"Mik Awake's Perfect Day"
10AM: Wake up without feeling guilty that I am waking up at 10AM.
10:15AM: Smoke a blunt.
10:30AM: No barking from the dog. No smog.
11AM: Check email. Check Facebook. Find messages from all the girls I have a crush on. Tell them I'm busy that day, even though I'm not. Assume that this will make them like me more.
11:10AM: Masturbate without crying.
11:30AM: Eat a big brunch that includes pancakes, spinach-feta omelette, home fries, and coffee.
12:30PM: Recite the most ridiculous freestyle in my life in the comfort of my own room. And actually record it!
12:45PM: Email audio file to Jay-Z, who emails back immediately with two terse lines: "Hello, Jesus. I've been waiting for you."
1PM: Call my mom and tell her what Jay-Z said.
1:03PM: Finish explaining to mom who Jay-Z is.
1:09PM: Give up explaining to mom who Jay-Z is.
1:15PM: Start writing a short story about a mom who doesn't understand who Jay-Z is.
3:15PM: Realize the short story is actually turning into a novel about race in America.
4:15PM: Finish writing first novel. Crack knuckles. Finish what remains of 10:15am blunt, and mass email Jhumpa Lahiri, Junot Diaz, and Toni Morrison with the Word file.
4:25PM: Jhumpa, Junot, and Toni all email back immediately with the same three words: "We give up."
4:45PM: Get a call from Barack Obama. "Hey, Mik," he says. "Just got a forward from Toni Morrison with your first novel. You know, I'm still looking for a running mate. Wink, wink!" Laugh awkwardly at Obama's joke.
5PM: Discover teleportation while listening closely to the last Roots album.
5:15PM: Go running around Fort Greene park, and when that fast Asian dude who always laps me starts to gain on me, enable teleportation device, which looks uncannily like an iPod, and lap him. As I'm passing him from behind, pretend to yawn.
6:15PM: Shower and sit on couch in only a towel with legs spread wide open. Realize I'm having the perfect day.
7PM: Watch the Hawks beat the Celtics again.
9PM: Get a call from one of the girls I have a crush on. She's in the neighborhood and wants to know if I want to grab a bite to eat. Play it cool and tell her, "I guess. Whatever." Here her sigh longingly on the other end. Cock eyebrow.
9:30PM: Eat dinner with girl without worrying about my credit card debt. Tell her about how weirdly perfect my day has been so far. About the Jay-Z email, etc. This seems to turn her off a bit, as though I'm bragging. So, I switch gears and tell her how I had to explain to my mom who Jay-Z was. I say, "Isn't that funny about moms? How you have to explain things to them?" She still doesn't share my enthusiasm.
9:45PM: Realize I don't have a crush on this girl anymore, and that we're not going to sleep together tonight.
10PM: We sleep together anyway, because I just remembered that this is my perfect day.
11PM: Fall asleep watching "The Wire" on DVD.
11:30PM: Wake up in a cold sweat realizing that this wasn't my perfect day at all. It was Thursday.