To start: Martin Scorsese, The Big Shave. 1967
I have this plan to purchase and consume an entire box of Thin Mints all by my lonesome. Happily I am having my period right now (AND HOW! Oh my GOD!) and the Girl Scout Cookies come in tomorow so this plan is really working for me.
And I had this idea to record myself eating this box of Thin Mints, because it's just funny for some reason, in a 64-slices-of-American-cheese kind of way, to do a thing like that. I mean, you are ALL going to do it. I know you are. You are going to buy those cookies and you are going to eat them all, and we will collectively pretend we are sooo disgusted by ourselves and this completely unanticipated behavior has taken us entirely by surprise and we just looked down and found two empty plastic sleeves on the table in front of us and who could have foreseen such a thing?
But we knew all along, didn't we?
So we have this pristine white bathroom, now. White vintagey sink, white floor tiles.
Wouldn't it be great to film myself eating those cookies in front of the bathroom mirror? Standing over the pure white sink? Sean remarked upon the superficial similarity to Scorsese's The Big Shave and damned if some shit didn't fall right into place.
Here's what I would do, were I so inclined:
Stand there in a white towel, contemplating myself in the bathroom mirror. Set the Thin Mints box on the sink. Open the box.
Take out a sleeve and open it up. Watching myself in the mirror, eat the first cookie. Second, third, so on. Okay.
Fish out the second sleeve of cookies. Open it.
Cut to the white tile floor between my feet. SPLAT. Blood.
Trickling down my leg. More blood.
Up to the mirror. More cookies. Cookies cookies cookies.
Floor. Blood blood blood. Running down my legs. Splattering everywhere. (At this point I don't even think I'd need special effects.)
But how to end it exactly? I'm not sure. I am sure, however, that this film needs never to exist except in our collective imaginations, so I promise not to actually make it. What would it be talking about? The tyranny of hormonally driven eating as it intersects with Big Agriculture's refined grain and sugar combination and the futility of resisting it? How we pretend to lie to ourselves about our intentions regarding that box of non-nutritive foodstuff? How fucking awesome it is to make things that look like other, well-known things?
All I know is that it made Sean almost throw up. So mission accomplished, is what I'm saying. That dude has been sharing my bathroom and headspace for twelve years, and I can still gross him out.
Jo, I love you. The Matthew Barney ending: you squirm around on the floor in a puddle of blood and black crumbs. For three hours. In one unbroken shot. The Lars von Trier ending: a local band of Slow Food activists come and drag you away to lynch you in the town square. Then your toilet overflows. The Harmony Korine ending: a group of developmentally-disabled adults come and scrape up all the blood, crumbs and rogue Q-Tips off of the floor, bake NEW cookies with them and sell them door-to-door to the disturbed inhabitants of a backwater town. I could go on...
Posted by: Jul | February 10, 2012 at 10:00 AM
Have Sean call an exorcist sooner rather than later. You are possessed by the mad spirit of Antonin Artaud. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jet_of_Blood
Posted by: Daniel Aharon | February 10, 2012 at 10:04 AM
WEEPING, Jul. Weeping here.
Dan, you know a good one?
Posted by: Jo | February 10, 2012 at 10:29 AM
I'm so glad that you have started writing again. Thank you for the imagery. It's got me laughing.
Posted by: Kelly | February 10, 2012 at 12:12 PM
I have to sell GS cookies with my daughter this weekend. I may never look at a box of Thin Mints the same way again.
Posted by: Cee | February 10, 2012 at 05:45 PM
I hope the grout in those tiles was glazed.
Posted by: maura | February 10, 2012 at 06:32 PM
Enjoyed this post, would probably enjoy the theoretical film. But must say, to commenter Jul - Very, very, funny!
Posted by: Jenny | February 10, 2012 at 06:33 PM
Jo!!!
I'm so confused. How could I not have come by here? Did you say you weren't posting at some point? What kind of madness would keep me away otherwise? (But why am I blaming you and not taking responsibility for my own actions.)
The craziest thing: I cannot eat Girl Scout Cookies. My husband is deep, deep in the throes of inability to resist and hilariously befuddled by it saying things in innocent confusion like 'we have to get rid of these!' I am saying 'why are they so good?' And he is trying to capture the goodness 'they melt in your mouth! There's fat, there's sugar...'
I can stand apart with a kind of faux self discipline and adult-seemingness but of course I do this with a million OTHER things.
I will tell him your little movie of the psyche and see if it does him any good.
Posted by: snozma | February 11, 2012 at 01:09 AM
snozma -- Yes, back after hiatus! You've only got about a month's worth to flip back through, so.
I think the main appeal of Girl Scout cookies is their mock scarcity.
Posted by: Jo | February 11, 2012 at 09:10 AM
Rather: they aren't all that good, honestly. Except for the unparalleled sensory appeal (to me) of an unending stack of waxy sugary discs that I can shove entire into my mouth, wedge between my teeth, crack and pulverize (the powder beneath the wax! Oh yes!), and then...there are more and more.
It's not a matter of delicious cookies because truly they are not. For me it's the oral sensory experience.
Posted by: Jo | February 11, 2012 at 09:13 AM
In searching for this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKNYXqjA4FA&feature=plcp&context=C34b5be3UDOEgsToPDskJygFTSAGEu3TNPAfBe_izk , I discovered this:
http://www.salon.com/2010/02/02/girl_scout_gaga/
Both are quite related I think, though your idea is obviously way more Williamsburg chic.
Posted by: Gretchen V | February 11, 2012 at 01:46 PM
Wait, is that last part a compliment or an indictment?
Posted by: Jo | February 11, 2012 at 06:38 PM
Also, KATE FUCKING HARDING. Good lord I love her.
Posted by: Jo | February 11, 2012 at 06:39 PM
First of all, that movie needs to be made. I'll shoot it myself on my blackberry if I have to.
Second, I think it should end with you glassy-eyed and staring into the mess of your ravenous womanhood. Then you should either shed a single tear, or vomit spectacularly. I can't decide.
Posted by: kateri | February 13, 2012 at 09:21 AM
Those are things I try to do on a regular basis, so we can shoot both and decide later.
Posted by: Jo | February 17, 2012 at 02:44 PM
Thanks so much for participating in this and for spreading the words!
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