The standard issue eyebrow piercing.

The standard issue eyebrow piercing.

It can be seen everywhere. Not necessarily in high numbers, but you always know when you see one. You know because the utter discombobulation of it is enough to ruin your entire week. The double-take, or even triple-take, you gave It is still not enough to decipher It’s gender. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you can hardly breathe. You lie in bed at night totally flustered, thinking back on the sighting and trying to make some sense of it all. You start deliberating with yourself, attempting to reach a rational conclusion…

“Were they breasts or just oversized man cans? It was quite plump, after all. The denim shorts plus sporty sandals and a wife-beater didn’t help either. While such an ensemble would almost always be associated with the male species, It’s legs were sporting a distinct three-day stubble. Did It have armpit hair? Check. A short, spiky haircut? Check. Surely a man! But wait…not a single hair stood on that boyish babyface. One would think that a man wearing such scruffy attire would also carry this scruffiness over to his facial grooming practices. Shit, I’m confused. Apparently so is It.”

Complicating matters even further, in one of the most miraculous feats in human history It is born with eyebrow and tongue piercings already in place. How the metal weaseled its way into mother’s uterus is anyone’s guess. Anyway, we need more clues…

“So who was It with? Well, It’s friend seemed more akin to a woman, although she wore a neutral-colored polo shirt tucked into baggy jeans that tapered just enough to reveal her Merrell hiking boots. Hmmm, fairly manly. What about It’s voice? Did It say anything? Yes…It was talking to It’s friend about an upcoming Melissa Etheridge concert, but It’s voice wasn’t overly masculine or feminine. Kind of like a 15-year-old midget boy who’s been smoking a pack a day since he was 10.”

It consumes you, like a dozen steel blades slicing through your every thought. You begin slapping yourself to rid your mind of the cloudy spirits, hoping to dislodge even a minute morsel of revealing evidence…

“Fuck. This just isn’t going anywhere. Okay, seriously, let’s think about this. Where did you see It? It and It’s friend were just walking out of an art exhibit. Hmmm…what kind of work was it? Oh oh, yes, I remember now! They were black-and-white photographs of nude women in obscure, artistic poses and locales, such as laying across a park bench with a baguette covering the vertical smile. Wait…naked babes?? Must be a man! Right??”

Sadly, we’ll never know for sure. However, I promise you the nightmares do ease up over time.

Frequently heard saying: “Yes I’d like the GLBT…I mean BLT…please.”

Last seen: Shopping for power tools while whistling tunes from Rent.


2 responses to “It

  1. eh, this post was the least funny. the others ones were really good tho

  2. Thanks for the feedback, Joan. You wouldn’t happen to be an “It”, would you?

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