I Drink for a Reason by David Cross Read Free Book Online Page B

infinite possibility mingle among the
     stars, and now, one of them can be yours… 30 day guarantee—imagine the look on their face when you give them their very own
     star, officially recorded with the International Star Council!” (At least it did before I started making fun of this.)
    Okay, I’ll do just that. All right, give me a minute here to let me stop laughing. Hang on. Man, this is taking longer than
     I thought. Okay, here we go. Nope, still laughing. Need another second here. I snotted myself a little. Let me wipe. All right,
     I’m done. Let’s see now, hmmmm, I’m imagining a look comprised of a mixture of incredulous outrage and pity. Is that right?
     A look that says, “How motherfucking dumb are you? You named a star after me? Which one? Point it out. Oh it’s “up there somewhere”?
     Wait, you can narrow it down to the Crab Nebula? Well, that’ll save some time in finding it. What the fuck is wrong with you?
     I’d rather have a gift certificate to Shit Farm Indian Food Diarrhea Outletters. I’d rather have forty dollars’ worth of henna
     tattoos on my face. What does that even mean, you named a star? Why not just name a microbe after me? Or anything else equally
     intangible and impossible to see after me? What happened, they ran out of cubic inches of Atlantic Ocean to name for me? How
     about a “patch of air” over the Rhine? What about the Queen of England’s next fart? Can I get that named after me as well?
     Why stop there? What about truly imaginary things that, for a nominal fee, can be named after me? I’d like to name the next
     sighting of the Loch Ness Monster after me, for $39.95. How about the whisper of an angel? For an extra fifty bucks I’ll throw
     in its celestial “aura” up to, but not exceeding, a radius of six inches. And seriously, the “International Star Council”?
     Again, you’re joking, right? What do you have to do to be a part of that “Council,” provide proof of citizenship from a country
     on Earth, while being able to look up and point? What kind of scam is this?!
    I’ll tell you what kind. The sweetest of them all—the perfect kind. Is this for people who don’t believe in angels (because
     “believing in angels is ridiculous”) but do believe in the power of transcendental meditation to create an energy shield that
     would turn back nuclear missiles? Because that makes complete sense. First of all, who’s going to dig around to find out who
     to check with about whether there’s really a star named for you, and then actually check? No one, that’s who. And if anybody
     does check, all you have to do is show them some bullshit certificate-looking thing that you can print off of your computer
     at home with a heretofore unknown font declaring that your star name is sanctioned by the “ISC”? They actually have a thirty-day
     guarantee. In case you get a sudden case of the “What the Fucks”? or “your” “star” red dwarfs and explodes in the next few
     weeks.
    I’m imagining something like that. Am I close?

Scrapbooking in Michigan
    R IGHT THIS VERY SECOND I AM SITTING IN THE BAR AT THE Sheraton in Novi, Michigan, just outside of what used to be Detroit. The name of the bar is 21.1.11, which is the zip code
     for Novi, except broken up by periods. The bar is very much your typical corporate hotel bar. It is just off the lobby and
     visible to everyone from every angle. There are two flat-screen TVs showing various football or baseball games. In between
     the games they show FOX News. I’ve been a regular here for the last two months while I shoot a movie here in Michigan. Like
     pretty much every hotel, the drinks are outrageously overpriced. But I get them back by never paying any money for the coffee
     that’s set out in the morning at their “honor bar.”
    There have been many groups that have come in and out of the hotel for a day or two or three while I’ve been living here.
     Nothing too exciting. A wedding