Jessi Klein’s NotBlog

The dream dinner is me, Oprah, Anderson Cooper, and Tim Gunn.  We sit down to a cheese course to start.  Anderson and Tim tell me they love my hair.  Oprah sistas out with one of her “Girl, you lookin’ good” compliments.  I love it when Oprah gets a litte sista-y.  People make fun of her for it, but fuck them, it’s great.  In the dream, no matter how much cheese we eat, there’s always more cheese.   Over the cheese course they start sharing amazing celebrity gossip.  Oprah reveals the entire Brad and Jen saga, even though she promised Jen she wouldn’t.  Tim Gunn suddenly gets a cell phone call from Santino.  They  talk for a minute and when they finish Tim goes, “Santino has the biggest crush on you.”  I go, “Isn’t Santino gay?”  And Anderson goes, “Well, I’m gay, but I’m pretty in love with you myself.”  I say something self deprecating and everyone laughs.  The main course is served and inexplicably it’s chocolate cupcakes.  I’m worried about eating something as rich and fatty as cupcakes for dinner, but Oprah assures me that these cupcakes were made by her personal chef and in fact they’re healthier than vegetables.  It would actually be unhealthy to not eat them.  We chow down.  Dessert is prosciutto.  Anderson suddenly looks at his Blackberry and gleefuly reports that he just got an email, from CNN HQ, informing us all that World Poverty has just been solved.  We toast.  At the end of the dinner, we get into a giant fluffy bed and stay up all night giggling.  Nothing sexual happens, although Anderson strokes my arm and Oprah lets me feel the skin on her butt, which is like Japanese silk.

I’m having a little trouble learning to drive. 

Well, what do you mean a little trouble?

Well…I failed the driving test.

Oh, that’s no big thing.  Everyone fails it.

Right…right…but I kind of failed it twice.

Really?  Huh.  Really?  What did you do?  I mean [laughter] twice, huh?

The above is a conversation I have had many times since failing the driving test twice.  Most people do fail once.  There are only a special few of us who have the courage, the guts, to fail it again.  Failing once is kind of cute.  People think failing once is cute, like having a date notice you have a little crumb on your shirt.  But when you reveal that you were unable to conquer this simple mechanical puzzle a second time, it’s unbelievable, like you have a pair of moose balls stuck between your teeth. 

I don’t know how I failed the second time.  The instructor wrote on my evaluation sheet that I need to “work on my rights.”  My lefts, however, he affirmed were very strong.  Which is odd.  I’ve been feeling really cocky about my rights.

Here’s the main thing – I’ve never understood cars.  I don’t give a shit about cars.  I grew up in NYC, where no one drives.  But since I’ve needed to learn how to drive I’ve become obsessed with the VW bug.  I know it’s supposed to be a “Nazi car” but  I see them all the time and I like that they’re small and look like they’re from another planet.  And I love the daisy in the front.  I guess it comes with the daisy?  The daisy makes the whole thing seem friendlier, less like a car, more like a little shitty apartment that you brighten up with a vase.  Every now and then I see someone driving a VW bug without the daisy.  Without a doubt, these people are repressed jerks.  If you have the opportunity to drive a car with a vase and a daisy, you seize it.  Nothing de-Hitlerizes a car like a little daisy.