Justin Halpern
Inner Monologue of A Guy At His Wife’s Work Party

The only thing more awkward and weird than being at a work party, is if it’s not your work.  I wrote this a couple years ago after making a huge ass of myself at my wife’s work party.  

When can I eat the food?  Why is no one eating it yet, it’s out there, it’s been laid out, and no one’s touching it.  Why the fuck would you put food out on a table, and then not serve it?  It’s buffet style, that means I can help myself, right?   I’ll just head towards the food, and pick something up and eat it, and it’ll be fine.  Okay, here we go, going to just grab a piece of bread and a slice of salami and- OW! WHO THE FUCK PINCHED ME?!  My wife?!

What the?  Don’t mouth “don’t embarrass me?”  It’s not like I pulled my pants down and jacked off on to the fruit platter, I just want to eat a slice of fuggin salami god dammit.  Screw that shit, I’m not going to be bossed around like I’m a child.  I’ll show her, I’m going to raise my eyebrows at her, and make a slightly angry face.  There, now she knows who’s f-in boss.   Jesus Christ, there’s so many old people here. 

When I’m old, and my wife is old, am I going to want to have sex with my wife?  Cause right now, old people are fuggin gross.  Oh, here comes my wife’s friend who she hates.  Do we really have to hug hello?  I’ve met you three times, one of which you got wasted and told everyone you liked the taste of semen.  Ha, that was hilarious.  I’m going to remind my girlfriend about that time.  Whoa, DON’T FUCKING PINCH ME!

Inner Monologue Of The Guy In The BMW Behind You In Traffic

I wrote this one day after a commute to work in which a guy in a BMW tailgated me for two miles in the slow lane until finally he pulled along side me and flipped me off with both hands and said “Nice Ford, faggot.”   If I could sum Los Angeles up in one moment, it was that one.  He didn’t look exactly like the picture below, but pretty close.  I started imagining what was going through his brain, and figured it was something like this:

What the fuck, bro?  Why is everyone stopped?   God dammit!  If I don’t get to the gym within forty five minutes, the protein shake I just had will be completely useless!  Helloooo, shithead in front of me, there’s seven feet of empty space between you and the car in front of you.    I can not WAIT to see what ethnicity you are so that I can call you whatever the appropriate racist term is for your people.   There you are, you friggin Dago.  Yeah, you see me, I’m gonna stare at you until you realize how stupid you are, and how smart I am.  Don’t mouth incoherent shit at me, I will get out of this car and use EVERY BIT of training I learned in my twice a week kickboxing class to kick the piss out of you. It may say on the sign up it’s for cardio, but my trainer Jon Pierre has used me as an example for the rest of the class on three different occasions.

Great, my blue tooth blowing up, unknown number.  Probably that chick I nailed a couple nights ago.  Lose ten pounds bitch, then I’ll answer!  Haha, I totally have to tell my bros I thought that tomorrow when we get bottle service at the club.  I’ll just tell them I picked up the phone and said that shit to her.

Okay, that’s it, I’m honking the horn.  God, I love this Paul Oakenfold album that’s rocking on my iPod right now.  It pumps me up.  HOOOOOONK!  There, that should clear all this traffic up.  What the?!  Why isn’t everyone moving?  Maybe they didn’t hear me honk my horn.  HOOOOOOOONK!  HOOOOOOOONK!  Hey dude next to me, don’t look at me bro.  DO NOT FUCKING LOOK AT ME.  That’s right, look away you fag.  Nobody maintains eye contact with me.   Nobody.

Inner-Monologue Of The Guy Sitting Next To You On The Plane

Tomorrow I’m taking a 12 hour flight, and I always sit next to the same kind of person on every flight.  Here’s what I’m guessing is going on in their brain.

Oh hey, is that middle seat taken?  I know there’s some rows a little further back in the plane that are empty, but it’s really important that I save the three extra minutes when I exit the plane so that I can be the first to wait at baggage claim.  Alright, almost situated, let me just situate myself so that I’m sitting on your seatbelt.  Theeeeere we go. 


Hey, you look like you’re trying to sleep, let’s have a meaningless conversation about where I’m from and whom I just visited.    Don’t worry, this conversation won’t be interesting enough to hold your attention, but I will continually make eye contact with you so that it will be incredibly awkward if you try to stop talking to me.  Okay, I’ve finished talking for now, you can go to sleep.  Uh oh, nature calls!  Sorry, let me just find the most difficult angle to try and move past you on my way to the bathroom.  Okay, nice, I got it, I’m just going to push past you with my crotch mere inches away from your face.  Be sure to smell the eighteen farts that are now releasing from my seat cushion. 

Don’t worry, I’ll be gone long enough for you to fall asleep, even if you try not to.  Hey, it’s me, I’m back from the bathroom.  Now I’m going to scoot past you so that my ass that I just used for shitting gives you a close up.  Let’s talk some more.  Oh, wow, look at that, five hours went by like nothing!  We’ve landed.  Now I can stand up and hover over you in a hunched position so that you can fully smell the body odor emanating from my arm pits.  It should smell like ham and newsprint.

 

Ah, yes, it does, okay good.  Before you go, could you hand me my 96 pound bag I stowed in the compartment above us?   Geez, watch it, you almost crushed the small woman below it.  Okay, well, I’ll see you later!  Oh hey, you have a bag to claim as well?  Want to share a cab?

Inner Monologue Of A Married Guy During Sex

This is again, a little something I wrote at my old job, before I was married.  Now that I’m getting married, it depresses the shit out of me.

Ugh, I’m so tired. I can’t believe that asshole Tim Jenkins passed off his report to me.  It’s his friggin report!  I just sent him some data he needed, and now suddenly – whoa, wife just grabbed my penis.  Was that on purpose or did she just roll over and her hand bumped into it on accident?  Nope, purpose, she grabbed it again.  I guess we’re gonna have sex.  Only when she wants too, of course.  I should just say no right now, show her how it feels to want to have sex and not get to.  Yep, I’m not even going to react to – I have a boner!  NICE!  Alright, let’s see here, what’s standard foreplay I have to go through before I can stick it in. 

It’s been so long I can hardly remember.  Okay, um, kiss her neck, squeeze her boob.  Man, her boob is really flopping over to the side.  When did that happen?  It’s like somebody poured some oatmeal on her chest and it’s starting to run off and – uh oh, boner going away.  Think about that new receptionist at work who’s g-string always hangs out and the time she bent down to pick up her day planner in front of me and Tim Jenkins.  Fuckin Tim Jenkins dude, trying to pass off his friggin report to me when all I – shit, how long has my mouth been on my wife’s tit not moving?  Okay, focus here, focus.    Okay, going to the fingers, let’s get this party started a little quicker.  Jesus, when was the last time she shaved?  I think I found Osama Bin Laden.  Ha, I gotta tell the guys at work I thought that.

Hmm, then they’ll know my wife has an unkempt vagina.  Maybe I’ll tell them my friend thought that about his wife.  But then I guess I won’t get credit for – uh oh, losing my boner.  New receptionist’s g-string, new receptionist g-string.  Okay, here we go, putting it in the old vajayjay.  Aaaaaand we’re in.  Whoops, not in, not in, wrong area.  I don’t know why that’s the wrong area, why CAN’T we have anal?  Every time I bring it up she acts like it’s an insult.  I like steak but I don’t want to eat steak every fuckin day, right?  Alrighty, and we’re in.  Let’s roll out of this missionary and get into some doggystyle.  Okay, looks like she’s not having that.  Missionary it is.  What was that sound?  Is that the kids?  Great, now an image of my six year old son popped into my head.

I can’t believe how much they wanted me to pay to send his ass to camp.  He’s six, give him a fuckin ball and point him at a wall.  Losing boner, okay, focus, focus, let’s just power through this.  Aaaaaand I came.  Okay, sleep time.  What does she mean I have to get out of bed and clean myself off?