Heidi's Guide to Four Letter Words(11)

“Hi! This is the podcast of a woman who used to be a kindergarten teacher and got fired because of budget cuts, and now she got hired at a place where she sits around listening to people read dirty books all day. It’s like… worse than that time I played Cards Against Humanity at my cousin’s New Year’s Eve party after our parents had gone home, and the card said, ‘During sex, I like to think about…’ and the only card I had left in my hand was one that said ‘Butt Stuff’ and I was so confused, because who thinks about going to the bathroom during sex? But then my cousin’s girlfriend explained it to me and I wanted to die and I kept shouting, ‘People really do that? But why?’”

I snort, swirling the liquid inside my glass. “Oh my God… I thought I blocked that out.” And I begin yet again. “Okay, so… hi! This is a podcast about…. What is it even about? You know what? This podcast is about the fact that I am so stuck right now. I can’t do what my mom wants me to do. I don’t have a job my parents will ever brag to their friends about. I obviously can’t do what Laura’s doing next door with my neighbor, because I don’t know how to say all those dirty things and bat my eyelashes and be so… Laura. I know how to fall into bushes though, let me tell you. I’m really good at that. I’m a bush ninja. Does anyone need to hire a bush ninja? I’m available evenings and weekends after dark. Hey, it’s Heidi’s Bush Ninja Show, where she tries to avoid falling into rosebushes, because bleeding isn’t sexy.”

I chug the rest of my wine, definitely feeling sorry for myself, and then point at the microphone as if it’s a person I’m trying to convince. “I’m also well-skilled in drooling so hard over my shirtless neighbor that I drop a box of podcast equipment all over my walkway, and he has to come over in all his shirtless, bare-chested glory and smile at me so… shirtlessly. What the heck?”

I let out a belch before asking, “So, I don’t know. What else is in this box?” I hold the offending object in the air. “Oh no. I’m not gonna read that. Definitely not gonna read that. Did I mention my neighbor was shirtless when he read the back cover of this thing? Oh, you probably can’t see what I’m holding, can you? That’s probably for the best. I don’t want anyone to know this book is even in my house, let alone that I touched it. But you should have heard him reading the blurb, with all that stuff he has going on up top and his no-shirt-wearing, muscly man muscles, and all that sweaty shirtlessness, and those dimples…. Is it hot in here all of a sudden? I feel warm. Maybe I should have more wine so I forget about how hot I am.”

Even though I’m wasted and will definitely regret it in the morning, I refill my glass once more while chanting, “Glug-glug-glug, I’m spouting more wine into my glass. Do-do-do! I’m just gonna set this book waaay over here on the other side of the table and pretend it’s not even sitting there, silently judging me. I should read something though. I gotta read something. I’ll just read something, because then I don’t even have to think about what I’m gonna say! Oh, this will be fun! Hold on, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get a book from my shelf on the other side of the room.”

I hop out of my chair excitedly before the world spins beneath my feet, and I walk with my arms spread for balance, feeling like I’m on a ship as I make my way to my bookcase.

“I’m back! I grabbed one of my favorites. I’ll read this Lisa Puffinbarger book about the guy in the buggy going down the road to the covered bridge. There was a good covered bridge scene; let me find it. Okay, chapter three. ‘Hyrum Yoder had always been in love with his neighbor on the next farm over, Sarah Bender. The pale pink bonnet that adorned her head matched the color of her lips that—’ Uuugh, I can’t do this! I swear, this is a sweet, beautiful scene about Sarah finally realizing Hyrum is in love with her, and it’s all because of the covered bridge and because she realizes there’s so much more to him than just a man who churns butter for his family. But after what I heard at work today, everything Hyrum says about Sarah suddenly seems so dirty, and I can’t read this without emphasizing the word ‘churn’ because all I can hear in my head is producer Dave telling a narrator he thinks it needs to be hotter, and there shouldn’t be anything hot or dirty about butter churning!” I huff, blowing a piece of hair that’s fallen into my face.

I put my elbows on the table then drop my forehead into my hands, closing my eyes. “I can’t do this. Why am I so boring? This is so sad. I’m just gonna get another glass of wine. Yay, Heidi’s Wine Show! But it’s more like, whine show. Waaah, why is my life so boring?”

I murmur to myself more than the recording device in front of me, “Okay, Heidi. Pretend you are not a loser.”

I sit up straight, ready to give it one more go, but then I promptly deflate. “Oh my God. This is a mess. I’m a mess. I’m a boring former kindergarten teacher who can’t even talk about an Amish romance without blushing. How do I expect my hot, muscly neighbor—with dimples that make me feel like melted butter—to even give me a second glance? I can’t. Because I’m pathetic. And now I want butter. I want a big old buttery sculpture of Princess Kay of the Milky Way sitting on my table now. I would eat her face right off.” I sniff, standing to look over the equipment.

“Did this even work? This thing probably didn’t even record. I’m gonna get more Franzia and see if it worked. Or maybe I’ll just Netflix something.”