My name is Kate Shelby. After being at school all day, I have come home with only one shoe: I must find it. But to do that, I can’t be the dickhead I once was. To honor my mother’s sanity, I must be someone else. I must be something else.
I’m A Superhero At Losing Shit.
Not Losing My Shit, I Mean Actually Losing My Personal Belongings.
As a child it was usually lunchboxes….just the box, never the lid or vice versa. Once I got off the school bus with one shoe on, my poor mother would be tearing her hair out. I still lose things today, including my mind. My mind is gone.
Kate, Where is your shoe? Um, I don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know? …… Jeez, mum, it’s just a shoe. Calm your farm lady.
She didn’t calm her farm. She lost her tits after a while. Fuck. I’ve lost my lunchbox again, I wonder if there’s some sort of halfway house that will take me in. No, that won’t do, she will find me. She always finds me.
I have tried so hard to get it together, but I’m still a loser.
I lose my keys, my bank cards, and just general bits and pieces.
90% of the time the items usually turn up and these days my children are usually to blame, ok sometimes. They are to blame.
My mum reminded me yesterday about the time I returned her screwdriver, half-melted. I had left it on the stovetop and instead of just saying I lost it,
I gave it back to her in a very damaged state. She didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just say I lost it or broke it.
That’s because there comes a time where one is so embarrassed about being a loser, the shame of somehow cooking a screwdriver is manageable. I said at least I wasn’t stoking my bong with it, which I’m not entirely sure didn’t happen.
There is something about being a serial loser that I love.
It’s knowing the frustration of it all. My children, who are not nearly as bad as I was, occasionally lose stuff. They have nothing on me, I’m not nearly as pissed off as my mother was. I’m sure her blood boiled when she had to buy me my 25th lunchbox for the year, I don’t blame her.
You see my brain is very busy, it’s constantly picking up information and prioritising it. You think shoes are a priority when you got world war III happening up in this Neocortex. I’m busy planning my world takeover, except I’ve lost the Blueprints at least 500 times. I mean it’s going to happen, the minute I can get my shit together.
Fuck, hold up…I’ve lost my pen.
Don’t laugh, Trump got elected. The phrase “You can be anything if you put your mind to it” was wrong. You don’t actually need a brain, you just need to convince a bunch of dickheads that you are the answer to their problem.
The punchline here is that being a loser doesn’t mean I don’t care. Quite the opposite actually. I care about so much, my brain is functioning at a level most people couldn’t understand. It’s so busy sometimes I seem paralysed. The lights are on, everybody is home. They are just busy, not concerned with shoes and car keys.
It’s a disco in there. Are you a serial loser?
If we unite we may actually find our shoes…..wouldn’t that be awesome?