Less

People say that less is more.  But not always.  Not with, like, diamonds.  Or chips and salsa.  But less is more with, say, pants sizes.  And perhaps fingernails:

[Lee Redmond's fingernails are 28 ft 4.5 in]

This kook has been in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the longest fingernails since 1979.  That's nice.  You can tell from her wild eyes and her witchy hair that she's proud of her achievements in the fingernails department and that she pretty much sits around all day watching her fingernails grow.  But then, I can't help but point out that she can't use her hands.  I look at this fuckwit and I think, "Doesn't anyone love you enough to cut your fingernails off while you sleep?"  In this specific instance, let's all agree that less is more. 

But again, not always.

I find that I always want more Oreos.  I can't conceive of an instance when I've thought, "I can't possibly eat another Oreo."  Even after I have finished an entire package in one sitting (I have actually done this), there is always room for another one.

Other things I want more of:

Vonnegut novels
Michael Jackson songs
Analysis of the JFK assassination/possible conspiracy
Seinfeld
Hair on my head
Ketchup
The Onion headlines
new batteries
pictures of my grandma when she was in her 20s

I once dated a guy who thought it was funny the kinds of things I didn't need.... and I'm not claiming any holier-than-thou shit here.  It's not like I don't own a TV or I spend all my evenings reading novels in the original French by candle-light while having no carbon footprint.  That's not what I'm talking about.  It was dumb things, like, generally, I don't drink coffee.  I do this because when I DO drink coffee every once in a blue moon, it really causes some HAVOC.  It's super effective.  I can get shit DONE when I drink a little coffee.

So this guy said to me, "Jules.  You should demand MORE!"  I laughed.  I thought, "If I demand more, I'll demand you right out of my life, dickhead."  And that's eventually what happened.  He wanted me to demand more for myself, but where it concerned him, it was very clearly his preference that I demand less.  (If you haven't caught on yet, all of my relationships are sort of like an Alanis Morissette song, but less catchy.)  I find that it's simpler to demand less and then get surprised once in awhile.

I'm feeling curious lately about what I can do without.  I feel like I want to eliminate as much as possible.  I've made a bit of a start:

I don't own a table.  For years I had one, but I still ate hunched over my coffee table every night.  So I got rid of the kitchen table and chairs, but all I really got rid of was a place to store my unopened mail and the ironing I wasn't doing.  I will take clothes to the Salvation Army before I will iron them.

I don't have a maid.  For years I did, but now it seems silly to hire someone to dust the table I don't own.

I don't have any sex toys.  These are just substitutes for hands and mouths, and I already have two hands and a mouth and I know other people who have hands and mouths too.

I don't have any cats.  These are just substitutes for dogs but without the having to take care of them.  I had cats for a long time and I don't even remember feeding them.  I think they ate carpet.

I don't have any pictures hanging in my house.  These are just substitutes for memories, and I am so much better-looking in my imagination than in photographs.

I also seem to get along without the right hemisphere of my brain.

I don't have any backup shampoo.  When I run out, I use a bar of soap.  When I run out of soap, I use laundry detergent (which may be why I have hair problems).  When I run out of detergent, I use left over mayonnaise packets from Jimmy John's because I read an article in Cosmo once that said you can condition your hair with mayonnaise.  I suspect that I read it wrong, but I kind of have a system (and I ran out of things to try after the laundry detergent ran out).

I don't have any underwear.  I'm wearing pants -- what's the point of the middle man?  And before you say, "What if you get into an accident and have to go to the hospital?" I will tell you that I have been in just such an accident, and instead of thinking, "I wish my mother and this hot fireman didn't have to see this happening to me" or "Why can't I modulate the tone, length, and volume of these bovine noises I am involuntarily making?" I was thinking, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  When you are in a great deal of pain, the last thing you're worried about is the deficiency of your underwear.

I don't have any eyebrows.  I don't know why.  I was born that way and as it turns out, eyebrows require maintenance, so it's cheaper this way.

I've just rented an apartment that doesn't have a bedroom. This is what is known as a "studio" because only starving artists live in them. I am experimenting with becoming a starving artist, but I will fail because: I will never starve (because of the aforementioned Oreo addiction), nor will I be an artist (because I can't draw that turtle wearing a turtleneck).

But I still think it will be fun to live in a ridiculously small room and pretend that I am roughing it (artistically so!), even though what I am really doing is giving myself an excuse not to own plates or tables.