#Lamron

“And if you ever feel as though you’re alone, if you ever feel as though no one understands you, find comfort in the fact that at least you’re thinking and living, while most people simply exist.” �" Lindsay Lohan, 1939 World Fair

Lamron usually tried to limit his tweets to the 140-character maximum, but he thought the Lohan/World Fair idea was just too ‘dank’ for paraphrasing and editing. This was the gold standard of his Twitter account, the kind of quick yet surprising humor that had netted Lamron over 10,000 followers. Sure, a lot of them were probably fake accounts, and yes, Lamron followed 12,000 accounts himself; nonetheless, the 10K plateau meant he was getting noticed. That’s really all he ever wanted.

Lamron wanted to throw himself a party the weekend after reaching the milestone. He invited some work colleagues, as well as a substantial amount of his former fraternity brothers who were still living in the area, to his apartment for a self-described “quaint” night of debauchery. Lamron assumed that none of the invitees really knew his motivation for throwing the party. Maybe it was to brag, or to bring people together. It might have been his insatiable need to fit in and be accepted. Actually, it was that last one. But only Lamron needed to know that.

In preparation for the night, Lamron planned to decorate his place by taping 100 strips of paper to his wall. Each strip would contain one of his tweets. For someone who tweeted as much as Lamron, the process of selecting the tweets was nothing short of arduous. He worked at “Pizzazz”, a startup social media site that relied on Lamron, as well as other recent college grads with influential social media presence, to spread the word about their company and get them to sign up, gain advertisement money, the whole 21^stcentury tech world shebang.

Lamron decided to spend an excessive amount of money at Kinko’s to customize a 10x10 banner with the quote from one his tweets. The banner would be the first thing his guests viewed as they walked in, and it would read:

“Sometimes your name is all you’ve got. So even when my whole life is backwards, at least I can rely on being ‘Normal.’”

Lamron marketed the event on Twitter and on his invitations as #LamRonJeremyPiven2015. The double-celebrity double entendre was his Twitter handle �" minus the ‘2015.’ He’d created it as a junior in high school and had yet to change it seven years later, despite constant protests from his parents. They worried that the username would scare off employers from hiring him.

As it turns out, the name actually helped Lamron secure his job at Pizzazz. Lamron was selected to work for Pizzazz near the end of his senior year of college, and upon accepting the job immediately called each of his parents to rub in that they’d been wrong about his Twitter handle.

It was all a farce though. Lamron knew his parents were right, but he refused to change the username as a rebellious ‘F**k You’ to the hardass employers of the world. Well, that’s at least what he told most people. The real reason for his stubbornness that no one knew was that Lamron was terrified of growing up, even at age 24.

Even though he was never the most popular kid growing up, the structure of school and college kept him close to many people. He had a tight-knit friends group in high school that dissolved when everyone went to college. He had another small but intimate support system in college, but everyone got busy with work after graduating. In the real world, Lamron was on his own, and he was not ready for that. Keeping @LamRonJeremyPiven as his moniker kept his youth from escaping him; but it also solidified his place at a going-nowhere-fast company with a going-nowhere-even-faster salary.

His Twitter handle and unwillingness to grow up may have kept him at Pizzazz, but the sweet and lovely Maureen Baker made him want to stay at Pizzazz. According to Lamron and his work buddies, Maureen the receptionist was a hot box of rocks, a babe and a half, and she had splendid tits.

Lamron did a good job hiding his deeper feelings for Maureen from his work buddies. He’d actually developed a fairly close friendship with her �" they sometimes got Starbucks coffee together on breaks during workdays, and she favorited a lot of his tweets. But they never hung out beyond the office. Lamron didn’t want to ruin the tiny joys he already had with her. Plus, if any of the guys at work found out she’d rejected him, and then if one of them happened to successfully ask her out…well, Lamron would feel devastated. He’d have to go work somewhere else.

Sure, he’d have the satisfaction of being the first one to work up the courage to pursue her, but that would be a minor moral victory compared to the heartbreak of her rejection. So he just loved her from afar, and at Starbucks.

“#LamRonJeremyPiven2015 bouta be HOT! Just bought like six rolls of toilet paper for the party of the century #TurnUp”

Lamron hadn’t actually bought toilet paper yet, but he always sent out a tweet as soon as he woke up �" it was his way of letting his followers know they could start messaging him. He wouldn’t have too much time to respond to them on this day, however. He had a full slate of errands to run before his party that night. Per usual, he’d left the errands for the last possible moment. It didn’t matter if it was #LamRonJeremyPiven2015, or #AnEssayDueTheNextDayWhenHeWasInCollege, or even #Groceries �" Lamron #procrastinated on everything.

The party was going to start at 8:30, so Lamron figured he’d drive to the local shopping center around 4. He’d get soda and snacks at the supermarket, buy booze at the nearby liquor store, and drive to the CVS right down the street to grab a cheap party pack of red solo cups. He’d be back to his building by 5:15 at the latest.

Lamron arrived at the supermarket at 4:08 �" two minutes earlier than planned. This unintentional and miniscule overachievement comforted him �" in fact, it comforted him so much that he convinced himself he had the time to live-tweet his supermarket shopping spree.

“4:11 pm �" Tryna find the best soda deal. Maybe the 10 for $10 on Coke products. I hope the lucky ladies coming tonight like rum & Coke - all 4 of you gals are in luck ;)”

“4:21 pm �" You know what else goes great with rum? Fritos! Who doesn’t like the classic Captain Morgan & Fritos combo �" guaranteed to give you a massive hangover AND diarrhea! :D”

“4:40 pm �" Snagged a Snickers bar @ checkout and met an elderly lady named Ethel who bought �" no joke - SIX jugs of prune juice. #Stereotypical”

Lamron walked out of the supermarket at 4:42 �" 12 minutes later than he’d initially planned. He didn’t think anything of it, as he’d probably still be back by 5:30. After putting the soda and snacks in his car, he walked to the liquor store and bought $85 worth of alcohol. It took him three trips to get all of it to his car, and by the time it was all moved, it was already 5:05.

He also didn’t account for getting delayed by traffic for 45 minutes. An 18-wheeler had overturned in the middle of road, blocking everything in its path. Lamron turned on the radio and found out that the accident happened right at five o’clock �" approximately 10 minutes after he was supposed to have been at CVS.

Lamron shook his head at the sky in disgust. He’d still have plenty of time to get ready for the party, but he always despised sitting in traffic. He was prone to getting motion sickness from the frequent stopping and starting of the car. But the worst part about sitting in traffic was that he had no way to distract himself from his own thoughts. All he could do was sit there and play prisoner to his own mind, and because he had no one to blame but himself for being caught in this particular instance of traffic, his mind was in an unkind mood. He started yelling at himself.

“You’re such a dumbass Lamron. You can’t even go to the store without getting distracted. Oh, and good job spending $85 on alcohol when you only make $450 a week. Real mature. You just had to throw yourself a party, a party that will probably end up with the apartment getting trashed, and you spending more money to repair any damages. Again, great decision Lamron. You’re really going places in life.”

The traffic became so unbearable for Lamron that he checked his phone every 30 seconds, even though there were tons of cop cars right in front of him. He was startled to find a new iMessage notification on his lock screen �" from Maureen. He momentarily convulsed before pulling himself together and checking the message.

“Hey!”

Lamron started freaking out. What did she even want? Why was she texting him? Did he do something wrong? He had no clue how to respond, so he just didn’t.

Avoidance had always been Lamron’s go-to move in social situations with women. He was too scared to go up to girls at all his high school dances. This continued into college, where he was shy at parties and rarely went to the bars with his fraternity brothers. It was hard for him to feel like he’d ever meet someone �" if he did, it would probably be the woman initiating it. And he knew that never happened. Well, at least not to short, skinny guys like him.

Lamron was a nice guy, so girls gravitated to him as a friend. That had always been the case, and even though Lamron would have preferred them to be romantically interested in him, he took what he could get. But at some point late in college, he stopped wanting to settle for friendship with women. So after a few seconds in the car, he realized she wasn’t texting him for any reason that would make him happy. Even though he considered Maureen a friend, at that moment, he didn’t feel like wasting his time by responding to her text and further pushing himself into the friend-zone.

When the traffic finally cleared, it was almost 6 pm. Lamron got back to his apartment and decided to shower and get dressed early. He didn’t want to upset himself anymore, and was determined to stay proactive in getting things done before the party started. By 6:45, he started taping the strips of tweets to his wall. After about 15 minutes of taping, it dawned on him that in the midst of his anger, he had totally forgotten to get the red solo cups at CVS. Disgusted with himself, he threw on a hoodie and walked a couple blocks to buy them.

He barged into CVS and went to find the cups. He was just about to grab the cups off the shelf when a familiar voice called out to him.

“Lamron! Hi!”

It was Maureen. Usually, Lamron would be eager to talk to her, but this was the wrong time to run into her. Not only was he already in a foul mood, but he also was buying a ton of red solo cups, which Maureen noticed immediately.

“Oooh solo cups, are you having a party?”

Lamron hadn’t invited Maureen to his party. He had desperately wanted to invite her, but he was terrified that she’d meet his fraternity brothers and want to go out with one of them. Maureen would probably just use her Saturday night to go out to a bar or some other party and meet someone else that way, but Lamron just didn’t want her to be with anyone he knew. If he couldn’t have her himself, he would try his hardest to prevent her from meeting someone because of him.

“Uh yeah, just a little get-together. Actually some of the guys from Pizzazz are going to be there. Um, I’m sure you already have plans but if you’d like to come over, uh, you’re definitely welcome to do that, so yeah, uh, yeah.”

Lamron was completely thrown off-guard by his own response �" did he really just invite Maureen to meet her future husband tonight right in his own living room?

“Aw thanks Lamron. I would love to go but I actually am just staying in tonight and watching some movies with my friend Jill. You should have invited me earlier than now! But have a good time, invite me to your next one for sure!”

“Oh okay, yeah sorry that I didn’t let you know sooner. I didn’t, uh, well never mind but �"“

“You didn’t what?”

“I…I just didn’t think of it I guess. Sorry. Have a good time watching the movies though. See you on Monday.”

Lamron smiled at Maureen and walked away, face flushed. What he almost said to Maureen was that he didn’t think she’d want to hang out with him. Which was probably true, she most likely just wanted to go to a party and get free booze. Why else would she want to be around him on a Saturday night?

He walked back to his apartment with a pit in his stomach and his brain on fire. Even though he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her to hang out, it felt as though he hadn’t. It really was just an accident, a slip of the tongue combined with him trying to be polite. But what if she had said yes? She would have seen all of his stupid self-denigrating tweets posted around his place. And the stupid banner? Good god, it would have been f*****g humiliating. He went on Twitter to sub-tweet about himself, and he didn’t really care whether Maureen saw it or not.

“Avoiding disasters like Brian Williams. Also, lying to people like Brian Williams.”

Lamron got back to his apartment a little before 7:30. He sat down on his couch and stared at his TV. He saw his reflection through the screen. He wondered what his TV thought of him. He wondered if inanimate objects could think. He wondered if they could feel, too. He decided that whether or not they could feel, misery loves company.

He took the remote control and slammed it to the ground repeatedly, pummeling the cheap plastic until multiple pieces chipped off. Then, he removed the batteries from the remote and went to the kitchen, where he turned on the stove and started boiling water. Once the water started bubbling, he dropped one of the batteries in, and held the other little Triple-A demon over the pot so it could watch its friend die a painful death. Then he grabbed his phone.

“Yo @RadioShack �" you sell any seasonings for your Triple-A batteries? I’m thinking cayenne pepper or Old Bay would complement their acidity.”

Eight o’clock. Only 50 tweet strips on the wall, no drinks made, a broken remote control, and cuisine fit for a robot. Things were going pretty well. At least the banner was hanging from the ceiling; he’d put that up the day before. Looking at it now, he wanted to rip it to shreds. It wasn’t funny. None of his tweets on the wall were funny. Without thinking (for once), Lamron angrily ripped off every tweet he’d taped on the wall. He crumpled them up into a paper ball and drilled a long shot into the wastebasket 20 feet away. He took his phone out of his pocket.

“@NBA you got room on any teams for a 5’7 white guy who has a wet jumper and a 9’ vertical jump?”

Then Lamron decided to try and shoot his phone into the wastebasket. He missed. Badly. The phone’s screen cracked and turned off on impact with the hardwood floor. Lamron tried to turn it on, but it was broken. He threw it back on the ground, stood over its corpse, and felt a strange sense of relief.