A Drunk and His Avril Lavigne

I was startled awake at 2:07 the other morning by the sound of Avril Lavigne's "Complicated" playing in my livingroom. I figured it was Mads, my Norwegian companion, but decided to check it out anyway. I found Matty, my personal biographer, sitting on my couch with his eyes closed and all the lights on. Without stirring he spoke to me.

"Why'd'ya have'ta go an' make shit so complicated?"

When I got close he grabbed me by the collar.

"No one, and I repeat, NO ONE is more perspicacious than a 16-year old telling me what life is like!"

Perspicacity was probably the one thing a drunk sitting in my living room after 2AM listening to Avril Lavigne with all the lights on and his eyes closed needed the most. A part of me pitied him, like the clergy members imploring Joan to confess to avoid the stake in Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's all a matter of erections and secretions."

He had to know I was too keen to miss a Bergman reference. I assumed he'd just seen The Silence, the film that that line was taken from. My silence indicated that his response was not sufficient.

He answered me without opening his eyes.

"I had a day to kill before meeting a friend in New Hampshire. The Celtics are on a West Coast road trip, so I got drunk instead."

"You know, the Bruins were playing, you could've seen them."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Let me change the music."

"I'm gonna have to respectfully disagree with you."

"I know, and that's what makes this so hard."

I switched my radio over to KISS 108, which was playing Taylor Swift's "Teardrops on My Guitar." I went to walk back into my bedroom, but Matty stopped me. He held my arm and used his other to indicate that this would only take a second. Then he nodded. We both sang:

"He's the reason for the teardrops on my guitar..."

Mads: She's Like so Whatever

My Boston friend and I were taking a slack day, when that damn Avril Lavigne song came on the TV. As such, I had the bastard in my head all day. I needed to do something about it.

"All right, get off the couch."

"Why?"

"I need to do something about this damned 'Girlfriend' song."

"What do you intend to do?"

"You'll see."

We went to a karaoke bar frequented by visiting Japanese businessmen. It had naked women on tables with guys eating sushi off them, and TVs with videos of Japanese women in school girl outfits eating crap and getting done by like five guys and what not. I filled out my karaoke card and we waited.

"Nice place you got here, Mads."

My Boston friend lit a cigarette and shook his head at me. My name was called.

I performed the hell out of the song. I jumped on tables, straddled the girls the sushi was being eaten off of and sang in their faces; at one point I grabbed a Japanese businessman by his tie and pulled him close to me.

"She's like, so whatever... you can do so much better..."

"You right, I can do so muht bettur."

Being Avril Lavigne

Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I were taking a slack day, lying on the couch and eating Chinese food right out of the containers. Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" was on TV.

Hey, hey, you, you... I don't like your girlfriend... no way, no way... I think you need a new one...

"You know," Mads said. "How does one become an Avril Lavigne?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, she doesn't really do anything. Look at her here, she's not playing an instrument, she doesn't really sing... I don't get the appeal. Anyone could do this song and make a hit out of it."

I felt I needed to defend her, especially after she helped me out with the Barry Bonds thing, even though I did pay her a lot for it.

"She has a certain element of charisma. And I think she writes all her stuff. I think that's how she broke in. Besides, she's Canadian. How many people can say that?"

"She writes all her stuff? 'Hey, hey, you, you... I don't like your girlfriend'? And her other stuff: 'Why ya gotta go make shit so complicated'? What the fuck? A gorilla could write that."

"I think it's 'Why ya gotta go make things so complicated...', and I'll give you that it's not the best material.... Whatever, I can't be bothered to argue with you."

"Because I'm right."

"Pass me the beef and mushroom, fucker."