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I never thought I’d live to see the day I would consciously, much less deliberately, be listening to Ryan Seacrest’s KIIS FM Morning Show – but obviously I did and am now living to tell.
It goes to show that wishful thinking such as “over my dead body,” “not in a million years,” and “not even in your dreams,” to name a few, mean absolutely nothing -- if anything. As illustrated in this case, they have the uncanny effect of producing the exact opposite of what I imprudently yet very convincingly swore on Jesus, Mary, and Joseph not to EVER do in the first place. Note to self: apparently the laws of attraction do come with reverse discrimination.
However the only reason why I am now fessing up to it now is not because I want to repent myself and receive forgiveness for my sin but because, unexpectedly, bozo Seacrest worked his way into my story as my primary source and, journalistic ethics require, I am morally compelled to reference my authority.
So voila, joining the legions of morning rush-hour drivers, I was “on air with Ryan Seacrest” while heading to the airport to pick up my cousin who flew from Dallas to LA on an early bird flight and was expected to land his ass into civilization at 7:30 a.m.
In my defense, while I may have drunk the water from the fountain, I have not at all gulped the entire freaking Kool Aid. This was certifiably one isolated episode that will never be voluntarily repeated in the near or far future. I only tuned in to his “shoot me now” self-serving thing of a radio show because my entourage – my cousin (another one) and his friend currently visiting from Belgium – fancied some Top-40 music. Of course, playing temporary not-so desperate housewife, enjoying the summer-time company of my two European male escorts, I traded my habitual psychotic, obsessive compulsive Monica Geller hat for the more sensitive, warm and hospitable Laura Ashley-like hosting skills of Bree Hodhe – which means I graciously obliged.
The only detail I omitted to take into consideration was the “talk” part of the “radio talk show,” which evidently did not score a hit with my two Belgian visitors aboard my car. As soon as I got the “nay” cue I was ready to switch to another station so fast I would have certainly broken the barriers of speed. But at that exact moment the American Idiot -- I mean --“Idol” host said something that unusually made me think.
“Is there a perfect time to break up with someone?” was Seacrest’s philosophical question du jour. Unfortunately, that minuscule moment of a light bulb switching on was eclipsed as soon as he began the following sentence dropping one name: Daisy Duke’s of cultural hazard also known as Jessica Simpson.
Apparently poor Simpson was allegedly dumped by her Dallas Cowboys quarterback, Tony Romo, on the eve of her 29 birthday – a milestone the young luminary anticipated to celebrate with a very adult Barbie & Ken themed party. While the details of the break-up were not fully divulged, an empathizing Seacrest went on to make a big hoopla about the incident, condemning Tony for his lack of sensitivity.
“Unless she cheated,” belched out Seacrest on the air with a patronizing tone, “no boyfriends should be breaking up with their girlfriends on a special day - which according to Mr. Oprah Winfrey clone includes Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving and anniversaries.
He then announced “if you’ve been dumped on a special day call us now at blah blah blah.”
Had I not been the one behind the wheel I would have dialed the digits pronto, because without the faintest of exaggeration -- unless someone has been dumped at the altar -- I don’t think any other scenario can hold the record in the lamentably shitty break-up department. What I got is what we, in marketing terms, call the twofer: two for the price of one.
Once upon a not too long ago of a time, an ex-girlfriend of mine concocted the genial concept of the royal deluxe treatment dumping discount by wittily combining in one exclusive package deal two “special days,” namely Thanksgiving and Christmas. There’re no pre-qualification requirements to be eligible for the offer, except of course to be in a relationship – long term committed relationships are preferred for those who want to fully enjoy the privileged benefits of the “cheap deal” effect.
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And because I know the curious minds are dying to know, the way you redeem this bargain certificate is as simple as two-stepping. The first step you take is to show your gratefulness and thankfulness by gracefully introducing on Thanksgiving the “let’s go on a break” line.
The second step immediately preceding is, as well, one of a forward élan during which you pretty much step all over whatever hope of salvaging the relationship is left and, at last, complete your original thought by adding the fancy suffix “up” to the first sentence in order to deliver the punch line – which was really the “read between the lines” intention of the first step. Trust me, it’s there! Granted, it’s in fine print but it’s there!
Note, however, that the originality of the technique rests on the premise that to cohesively complete the washing cycle, the final load is dropped at Christmas time. It’s not that the dumpers are absolutely oblivious to the spirit of the holidays, I think they really believe that somehow Santa Claus will clean up the mess and make it all better for them -- or else they’re just as spinelessly insensitive as those little devils in school who make a living sadistically telling all the other Peter Pan kids that Santa doesn’t exist.
Well, I beg to differ! Santa does exist provided you play your cards well as my friend Beth brilliantly reminded me. Her sad tale of a relationship gone down the drain on a special day came with a little twist called “damage control.” Beth got seriously dumped after Christmas. Yet anticipating the break-up she made sure Santa was leaving a diamond necklace under the tree. That’s what I’m talking about ….if something’s going to break make sure it’s the dollar bills in her wallet. As far as I’m concerned, if I’m going to see blue, it better say Tiffany on the bag.
In all seriousness, is there ever a good time for breaking up? If the relationship is already kaput does it really matter when, where and how it is officially terminated? Whether the dumper waits for a decent time doesn’t change the fact that the bomb is already ticking and can’t be deactivated; the explosion will go off regardless. So what difference does it make?
According to my friend Kristina, the modus operandi the dumper opts to adopt makes all the difference in the world. Her theory is that any demented minds that has the deplorable guts to kick your ass to the curb on a special day intentionally chooses to do so because their zero self-confidence of a personality wants to find the best way to hurt you so that you will forever have the memory of them.
I concur with Kristina. Obviously she has a valid point as I’m still today brooding about my double whammy. Mind you, in my case, what originally was a seemingly totally fucked low blow ended up being a sublime coup de grace because even though the ex managed to ruin my Christmas, in retrospect she actually gave me the best gift I could have ever wished for – as my super sexy therapist says “I’ve been spared!”
Yes, things do happen for a reason and always at the right time because time is always punctual!
