Meet Candi. She has been telling everybody since October 15th (casually, in passing, to everybody she comes in contact with) that she is done with her Christmas shopping. It’s almost as if she doesn’t realize that this will elicit praise and envy…almost. But the little sniff she makes at the end of her sentence is her poker tell. It gives her away that she’s just knowingly bragged and is anticipating a wave of self-satisfaction as the recipient dutifully gushes over Candi and her superior life choices. One of those natural-born achievers who just can’t help but adequately prepare for life’s challenges. She must be drinking tons of water, they’re likely thinking. She’s probably a runner, and never eats the rolls at dinner, they’ve surely surmised. Her legs are probably cleanly shaved, they clearly assume. Candi has crafted her persona around giving the impression of capability, organization and natural effortlessness. The only problem is, Candi has not purchased one damn gift. Not one. It’s December 1st and although she has plenty of time and is in good company, she cannot bring herself to admit that she is not the picture of perfection that she has presented. Also she doesn’t really even exercise, except walking twice per month in an effort to start exercising. She eats her kids’ Cheez-it snack packs when nobody is home and quietly blames her husband when the kids protest at the empty pantry. Her sheets are pilled from leg stubble. And the pie she took to Thanksgiving was store bought. Oh Candi, you don’t have to fake it with us. TAKE HER HOME!
As Courtney was handed the rule pamphlet, she swore she saw the Da Vinci code. Symbols swirled around, English words became foreign and strange. She somehow now knows how to set up a VCR after reading them, but still does not quite understand how to win atMahjong.
Last week she ordered each of them one of those gadgets that shatters your car window in case of a full water immersion. She also ordered a wind up radio. You know, in case the power grid goes down. She changed the air filters in the house last month, and commented that Olive Garden is a heck of a deal if you get a family sized pan with a five dollar take-home add-on. She’s been cracking open a Bud heavy after yoga class lately, and finally decided to try out a MyPillow.
But here she sits, six years after her appointment with WIDK reporting on milk prices, beauty pageants, the occasional car theft, Alderman election scandals, and downtown green space clean up efforts. This stupid little town doesn’t deserve her. She’s meant for greatness, and she despises their perky greetings on the streets....
