Molly McGillicuddy is thrilled to accept this award for People’s “50 Most Beautiful People.” She would like to thank everyone who made this dream a reality. Most especially, her hair stylist, Shawna.

A Day

The next morning came, so I woke up. I was hung-over and I thought, I wish I wasn’t hung-over. The reason I was hung-over was because Jeremy came over last night and we went out to meet Carl and get drunk. Carl still had at least half a handle of Jack Daniels from a night he tried to get this hot shoe store chick drunk. He got her drunk, but he also wanted to get her laid, so when she started puking on his rug, it ruined his plan pretty much. But he did end up with a sweet new rug because the girl felt very bad about puking on the old one and gave it to him. Girls are funny like that. Carl didn’t call her again on account of her not being able to hold her liquor well, or at least long enough to get laid. So since Carl had the Jack, he said, come over and get drunk. So me and Jeremy went over and got drunk. Then we went to Avion, which is a cool bar that we go to when we want to pick up chicks. But the chicks were lame so we drank beer, then left. Irregardless of not meeting chicks, we were still very drunk so that’s why I was hung-over in the morning. I looked in my mirror and I thought, I don’t look hung-over — that’s good.

Then I started feeling very poetic. So I decided to wear my green t–shirt with a picture of a woman symbol silk–screened on it, the kind they have on bathroom doors. This t–shirt is very ironic I feel. It was a little cold so I thought maybe I’d put on another shirt, but then I thought, no, this shirt makes me look alright. To tell you the truth, I really thought, this shirt makes me look hot. But that sounds more conceited so I didn’t say it. It’s important not to sound too conceited because people don’t like that. But some people can go fuck themselves, is how I feel, sometimes, but not always. Then I stood at my mirror and made my hair look all messy. My ex–girlfriend told me to style it so it looks like I don’t care. It looks better like this because some people get too concerned with looks. Then I checked my phone and had like five new text messages. One was from Brogie and it said, Live free or die! Bitch. Brogie is very ironic like this. When he is being ironic, people think it is very funny. I thought maybe he was at Mangoes, so I decided to go there.

Mangoes is this very cool juice place. They also have bagels and wrap sandwiches. I like the ones with edamame. Mangoes is a cool place because very cool people hang out there. They bring their laptops and drink lattes, because Mangoes also sells coffee. And Mangoes has a lot of character. It has cement counter–tops and big aluminum stools. The floor is also cement and the tables where people can sit or work on their laptops are made of steel. Mangoes, I think, is very avant–garde which is why I like it. I was looking bored and cynical which I like to do. I hate all those perky people because I think, that’s not real. Life is hard. When the girl behind the counter asked me what I wanted, I said I wanted a portabella and roasted red pepper panini and a Berry Hula, which is a strawberry, banana, and coconut smoothie. I don’t always get mangoes in my smoothie when I go to Mangoes. I told the girl I wanted extra whey protein. She had very good hair. It was cut shaggy and extreme and was dyed that color when red goes purple. Like a pomegranate maybe. I never saw one, but I had the juice (at Mangoes) because they say it promotes your health. Health is very important because Americans are too obese. This has something to do with racism, and I don’t think people should be racist or fat.

When I was waiting for my shit, that’s when I saw Brogie. He was sitting at one of the steel tables with two girls, Dana, who Carl fucked, and a girl I didn’t know. I got my drink and panini and went over. Brogie said, hey dude and I said, hey man. Then I said, hey Dana, and before I sat down I moved my chair closer to the other girl because she was good looking. Her name, as it turned out, was Pam. They were talking about the war. Dana said the war was horrible and all the troops should just get out. I thought this was a very good point. Brogie said, yeah, fuck Bush, which was also a good point. Then Pam started talking about philosophy and shit. She was talking about what her friend, who smokes a lot of pot, said about all of these very existential things. What she was saying was very deep. I like when people say deep things because not only is it good to think deeply, but because the world will be better when they do. Like, I read part of an article about child soldiers in Africa or Afghanistan, and I thought that needs to not happen, which is why more people need to think about deep stuff, so that kids don’t have guns. So I said this, and Pam nodded really long, making strong eye contact, which was very intense. And I was pretty sure she was into me.

That’s why when Dana said she had to go meet a friend at Starbucks, and we got up to go, I hung back and asked Pam if she wanted to meet at Avion. She gave me her number and I entered it in my cell, gave her mine, and said I would text her later. Texting is very convenient because then you don’t have to talk with someone if you want to say something. Then I said cool, and she said cool and gave me a look, so I knew she was into me. You’d have thought so too.

Then, since I had a bunch of hours to kill before I planned on texting Pam, I went for a walk and thought about maybe getting a coffee. I don’t know why I didn’t get it at Mangoes, but I didn‘t want to switch directions in the middle of the sidewalk and look stupid so I kept going. When I was walking, these three guys in baseball hats passed by and looked very lame. And I thought that they probably didn’t think too deeply since they only watched sports. It’s important to be intellectual. Like the other day I went to Barnes & Noble and got a book called Fifty of the World’s Best Short Stories. I like this book because it won’t be hard to find a story and know it’s a good one. Many of the authors in the book are very great, like Hemingway. He is a great American author. I also like the book because there are more obscure authors that I’ve never heard of, like Anton Chekhov. This way the book is not too commercial and is very good. I haven’t started it yet, but I trust it is very good.

Then I passed this diner that looked like one I used to go to when I was a kid. But it wasn’t the same one. And I thought I’d go in and get coffee there because it looked old in a retro kind of way. But when I got inside it was just old, and not very cool or retro at all. The people in it were very sad seeming and it didn’t look like they’d have lattes at this place, which is what I would serve if I owned an old diner. I would make my diner very retro with shiny new chrome stools and big booths like the kind they have in movies about the 50s, and the waitresses would be on roller skates. But it wouldn’t be cheesy like you’re thinking. The waitresses would be hot and really cool. Irregardless of this place not being cool at all, I got my coffee there and walked out. And that’s when I saw Carl walking by. I said, hey man, and he said, hey dude. And then he said how he was hung–over, and I said, same. But I was feeling better. And he asked if I wanted to go to a poetry slam that night. Sometimes we like to do artsy stuff like that. As long as the people there aren’t too weird in that too artsy way that some people get and you don’t even know what they’re saying. But he said that this would be cool because he knew the girl running it. And there would be free wine. And I almost said, I’m in, because I thought, I’ll wear my new sweater that I got at this very trendy thrift store. But then I said, I can’t, I’m meeting this hot chick at Avion. And he said, cool man, she in the bone zone? And I said she was. And he said something nasty and we laughed. Then he said, later and I kept walking down through the city.

I thought of going to see Jeremy, but figured if anyone would still be drunk from the night before, it would be Jeremy. So I kept walking past his place. There were three blonde girls walking in front of me, and they had nice asses. All three of them were wearing these cute short shorts, and sort of bouncing down the sidewalk. It was like a gum commercial. I thought maybe they were triplets, and was pretty stoked to have spotted three hot, blonde triplets. Then one of them turned around and I saw her face. It was pretty busted. Luckily, she turned back around, and I just pretended they were triplets and watched their asses some more until they stopped to get on the 58 bus.

I kept heading up the street some more and came to the modern art museum. You know the one that has the big sculpture outside? Well, it’s the one that has this big, white curvy thing out front. It sort of looks like a big claw or a toenail sticking right out of the ground in front of the museum. I figured Pam would probably be impressed if I told her I went to a modern art museum on our date tonight, so I figured I’d go inside. Before I went in, I cranked a butt on the front steps. You always see artsy people smoking, so I figured I looked just about right smoking on the steps of the modern art museum. But then this fat cop, or some lame–ass museum guard, told me that I wasn’t allowed to smoke on the steps and had to put my cigarette out. I was going to tell him that he probably didn’t know the first thing about art, and to go screw himself. But people like him wouldn’t understand that. Some people are just ignorant.

Inside, the museum was air–conditioned and quiet. I went to the museum shop first and looked at the naked pictures in some of the art books. I don’t know why so many of the old painters bothered painting all those fat chicks. Maybe they had fat fetishes or something or maybe obesity has always been a problem. Either way, the pictures were pretty boring, so I played with the clicky–clacky silver balls that swing back and forth, and then bought a few magnets so I could put them up on my fridge and have proof for Pam that I was at the museum. Then I went to the museum café and got a Picasso, altissimo, with extra foam, which I’m pretty sure is just a large cappuccino, but I like that the museum puts a more artsy flair on things. I’d already had a coffee, but I hate walking around a museum only looking at paintings and shit. I like to at least have a cappuccino or something to hold.

My favorite thing at the museum was this exhibit of these big pipes. They were metal and bolted together, and bolted to the wall, so they came out at really funky angles. They were kind of like the exposed air vent pipes on the ceiling at Mangoes. Except the ones at Mangoes are just pipes; the ones bolted up on the wall are art because they are at a museum. That also means that they have a really deep meaning too. I stood in front of them for a really long time just looking. Sometimes you have to let the art wash over you. So I stood there looking at all the beautiful art in those pipes. Then I took a sip of my Picasso and burned my tongue. That sucked.

I walked around some more, letting the art wash over me. I went in a room with these big canvases with huge red X’s on them. They made a very powerful statement. I think what the artist was trying to say was probably very powerful. When I was looking at the X’s, I checked my watch, and realized I had to get back to my place to shower.

I was dicking around my apartment when my phone beeped because I had a text message from Pam. It said, meet at ur place? 6? what’s the addy? I thought, cool she’s definitely into me, because usually the guy has to text the girl first for dates and stuff. I thought maybe she’ll give out tonight, so I texted back, #76 at M and 13th. c u then. I got a beer from the fridge since it was almost five anyway, and I wanted to have at least one beer before she got there. I threw some shit that was on my floor into the closet. Girls like a clean place. I think it helps your chances of getting laid.

I drank three beers by the time she buzzed. She was wearing this tight shirt and I could see her bra–strap. It was black and I knew what that meant, so I smiled and gave her a beer and got another for me. She drank hers pretty fast. We were sitting on the couch and she was talking about the artificial ideas in the media. And it was very deep. And then we started making out and she was very into it, and I was psyched because usually a girl has to be more drunk than she was to kiss like that, but I didn’t stop and reached up into her shirt and unhooked her bra. The sex was real good. She wasn’t one of those real crazy screamers and she didn’t just lie there either. It was good. After, it was only like eight, so I said, do you still want to go out? I figured I should at least buy her a drink and maybe an app. And she said, yeah, and put her shirt on.

When we walked in, Avion was pretty crowded. This is because, like I said, it is a very cool bar. They were playing music with a strong beat. I asked Pam what she wanted to drink. She said, surprise me, and went to save us seats at the bar. I got two Jack and Cokes, and was feeling good from the sex so I gave the bartender a good tip. I found Pam and we were just talking and looking around at some of the other people in Avion, many who were very good looking. She brought up some of her pothead friend’s deep philosophy again, and then she said, absurdity is a slut. I thought this was an edgy thing to say and I wished I’d said it. Irregardless, I was glad to be sitting with an edgy girl who was also hot.

She moved closer to me in that way girls do so that your knees are touching. I put my hand on her thigh. She said, I think I’m pretty into you. She was a crazy girl. The way that girls can be crazy sometimes. So I said, you’re a goofy bitch. And I couldn’t tell if she liked that or not because she looked at me with these eyes that said, I don’t know whether or not I like that. I bought her another drink in case she didn’t like what I said. She smiled when I set her drink down so I knew it’d all be cool. I bought mojitos because I wanted her to know that I was sophisticated. I’m pretty sure she could tell. I looked a little past her and all around at the other people in the bar. Girls get interested when it looks like you’re not. I was checking out a hot girl with great legs. Then, I could feel Pam’s knee moving up and down against mine, and I knew what she was doing. We talked some more, and I told her about the book I got, Fifty of the World’s Best Short Stories. And she said it sounded very good and agreed that it was good that they put obscure authors like Anton Chekhov in because that would keep the book from being, and at the same time, we both said, lame. We both kind of laughed, and then her eyes got pretty serious.

And when she leaned in close to me and I could smell her perfume, like marshmallows, and feel the black of her bra–strap throbbing up at me. The fast beats of music drummed through me, and I breathed in everything all around, the strange lights, the bartender in black, those great legs, the clear and amber–clear liquids reflecting everything. I felt it all pulsing deeper and deeper under my skin. Then she got so serious I thought I might I die, and then she said, I think I can see right into your soul.

So I hit her hard in the nose with the heel of my hand because I didn‘t want anyone looking into my soul because I knew what they’d find. She made this little what–the–fuck yelp, like a little dog, more surprised than hurt. I sat there and she was standing up with her hands at her face. That’s when the table got bloody and she started crying or screaming. And inside I was feeling like a car accident that everyone was looking at. But no one was really looking at me; they were looking at Pam because she was bleeding and screaming all over the place. I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t like that.

I was still feeling like a car accident when I stopped hearing her scream, when the whole place started moving like it was underwater. The pulse of the music slowed and the bottles in the bar mirror were a kaleidoscope I had when I was eight. I watched some waitress come to help Pam and put ice on her face, and when Pam turned her head, slow like an owl, she looked at me like she was seeing a nightmare. The bouncers became henchmen and came for me slowly. And then I started waiting because I felt what was coming next. And while I was sitting there in this roaring hush, I realized that Pam couldn’t look into my soul because she was just like me. And to me, this was very ironic, so I laughed.

And I laughed until it went hollow in my throat and it felt like a lie, or the truth; I didn’t know which was worse, and either way, it would never be untold. The truth and the lies were all mixed up. And the fact that I couldn’t tell them apart undid me. That’s when I got real sad for us.