(CHAD'S INNER MONOLOGUE)
The world doesn't wake up until I wake up. Only what I experience matters and only what I say counts. Everyone either wants me or wants to be me. No one ever tells me no, and I get everything I want. I'm good-looking, rich, white, and straight. I am Chad. You're welcome.
Before work, I like to use a lot of water showering in my Calcutta gold marble honed tile shower with an oversized rainfall shower head. I work up a thick lather using only CREED Aventus Hair & Body Wash (SRP $100.00). After my non-fat no-foam slow-roasted fair-trade triple-shot shade-grown blonde latte with sugar-free vanilla almond milk, I defecate then cleanse my under carriage with my golden bidet, thinking about how awesome I am.
I am a lawyer, and therefore extremely important. I make it a point to never remember anyone's name as a sign of their insignificance. Today will be an easy day at work. My partner and I (no homo - my law partner; I am not gay, not that there's anything wrong with it, gay sex is gross, but I respect their right to do it, and I love the attention gay men lavish upon me, everyone thinks I'm great) -- anyway sometimes I ramble because I have so many interesting things to say about myself -- my law partner and I are taking our assistants out to lunch for...a birthday? Promotion? Termination of an unwanted pregnancy? I don't remember, I'm Chad after all.
I offer to drive everyone to lunch so I can show off my 2017 Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet (SRP $200,000). My (law) partner (no homo), who I pretend to like but really he's a dorky little dickwad, only has the 2016 Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet, so it's important I drive to prove for like the umpteenth time that I am superior.
The hostess definitely wants to fuck. She seats us at a table that's perfectly fine, but in an effort to flirt with her, I smile brightly as I complain about the table and question her competence (women love difficult, mixed-signal-sending men). She moves us to the table I suggest and mumbles something under her breath (probably "let's fuck").
I start telling a hilarious story about this loser who died in my fraternity from a hazing accident, it was so funny, he was sobbing for his parents while throwing up blood. Anyway the server tries to say hi and take drink orders but I'm still slaying, so he can stand there and wait. Oh wait, it's time for my non-FDA approved fat-burning pill (SRP $175/monthly supply). I'd better put my story on hold. "Hey guy I need a water?" I inform the gay waiter, adding a thumbs up so he knows I'm chill. I know I'm not good at reading the emotions of others because no one else matters, but I think he just glared at me? He probably wants to fuck and is just pissed I'm obviously straight.
Before I can even finish my god damn story, one of the two girls starts talking, I can't tell you which of them is my assistant and which one is my (law) partner's (no homo). I can't tell you their names, either. Anyway her weird, inappropriately sad story about the death of her parents means it's cocktail time. "Hey guy, bottle of red, Malbec, four glasses," In case the waiter is really stupid, I'm going to keep flashing the number four with my hand, which will also successfully show off my Royal Oak Offshore 18-carat white gold diamond pave automatic watch from Audemars Piguet (SRP $1,546,130.00).
The conversation's back to something something miscarriage with girl 2. Goddamn we hired some sad girls to work for us. What is this, Mad Men? Man I wish it were the 60s still, how cool. Anyway I'm just going to look like I'm really super listening, but I'm going to let my mind roam.
Wait. Was I supposed to go with a buddy to a funeral? This sounds vaguely familiar. I'd check my phone, but that would be rude.
Okay, both of these girls definitely wants to fuck. Wait...would it be "both of these girls definitely want to fuck"? No, it would be wants, because that sounds right and I'm always right.
Sometimes my head is just empty and there are no thoughts going through it at all, like right now.
I farted. I hope everyone thinks it was my (law) partner (no homo). I'm thirsty.
"Hey guy another bottle of wine? And we're ready." Now that he's standing here to take my order, I'm going to open my menu and see what they have. Everyone can wait while I make up my mind. Oh, their salmon and spinach entree adheres to my 17 dietary restrictions, so I'll just have that. If I don't like it, I can eat all of it, and then send it back for something else.
Woof. I'm starting to feel drunk. Third lunch this week. I'd better get some more water. Oh here comes gay waiter. He's in the middle of talking to his other table, but who the fuck are they in comparison to me, so I'm going to bellow "HEY! HEY!" to let him know my needs are more important than theirs. Whoa, he's definitely glaring at me. Yeah he definitely wants to fuck.
Time (hiccup) for the bill (burp). I guess my (law) partner (no homo) isn't going to pick up the tab. That's fine, because now I can show off my American Express Centurion (aka the Black Card; initiation fee $7,500; annual membership fee $2,500). The server's a dude so I'm not going to tip as much as if he were a chick.
Now it's time to drunk drive everyone back to the office. I'm a great driver, sober or drunk. Everything I do is great. I can do no wrong. Nothing bad ever happens to me, and if it does, I refuse it. I am Chad. Worship me. You're welcome.
Know him well. Worked for him. Says things like "Well, I drive a Porsche because it suits me..." and "I really didn't need to go to the Maldives, but..." He comes in late, leaves early, except when he thinks you should work longer than 11 hour days. He thinks for 15% you should be at his at his side for every whim, ever fancy. He orders an scotch by brand, you serve him the scotch he orders, he takes a sip and calls you over becuase the bartender "got it wrong". No, the batender didn't get it wrong, but customer wants others to see what a descerning pallet he has. You return the glass and dump it - becuase you would never consider sharing a glass wth an asshole - the bartender pours from the well, you serve it and creep sips and drinks it like ambrosia. And its name is Jason, Jared, Jay...
Posted by: Cookie | March 14, 2019 at 05:22 AM
there are so many people out there like chad...most of them MAGAts (pronounced maggots)!
Posted by: anne marie in philly | March 12, 2019 at 03:04 PM
"Sometimes my head is just empty and there are not thoughts going through it at all, like right now."
Lol! My favorite among many favorite lines!
Posted by: PJ | March 02, 2019 at 04:00 PM
I am certain I know Chad from somewhere! Very funny, as always
Posted by: Sophie | March 02, 2019 at 01:03 AM
This was very American Psycho, I LOVED it
Posted by: Camille | March 01, 2019 at 06:48 PM
Gawwwwhd! Folks (too kind a term?) like them have no soul. How can you stand living there? I mean, there's jerks everywhere, but Hollyweird seems to have a higher concentration of these assholes, right? Ugh.
Posted by: Tina | March 01, 2019 at 01:45 PM
Oh my God I LOVE these! “You’re welcome.” Lololo
Posted by: Beck | March 01, 2019 at 01:39 PM