It’s been awhile since I scripted a heartfelt post on the site, so I might as well come back with a vengeance. Last month, I was inspired by a self-deprecating Wes R. Kasik. I was also humored and reminiscent, being by his side for quite a few of those self-deprecating bombs. But I couldn’t leave my best friend/fellow GD editor/former nips-piercer in the trenches taking self-inflicted grenades for long. So here I am, taking down the person I know best: myself.
We frequently discuss this whole transparency thing more often than not on Glass Duffle. Two correlated characteristics–self-awareness and self-deprecation– are expressive forms of this transparency. If you can’t be honest with yourself then all of this truth talk is just cliched jargon with no spine. But if you can defeat your insecurities by way of humor and honesty, that’s an accomplishment not to be taken lightly. As a wiser man once said, “Once you’ve accepted your flaws, no one can use them against you.”
So Welcome to The Roast of Nick Battaglia. In the tradition of the aforementioned Wesley’s brilliant inaugural soul exposition, these cringe-inducing and personally deflating moments will be attempted in chronological order. I hope my past embarrassments are your present ecstasies–if only for a moment. I’ll really miss all of your company if this mission proves friendship-fatal (Wes, we’ll still be bros regardless though, right…right?!) Here I am, armor off:
+ One of my first vivid memories of public embarrassment ironically came at one of the more happier traditional events of life: recess. I had on a blue B.U.M Equipment t-shirt (and probably JNCO jeans) when a horsefly the size of C-Ron’s Adam’s apple landed on my right pectoral. This of course happened during lineup–when the bell rang–whilst being hushed by the guardians of the grounds, or ‘the recess ladies’. Naturally, I took off my shirt and shrieked maximum decibels. There’s probably still someone on that playground staring dumbfoundedly in my direction.
+Hey guys, check it out, guess what happened to me? // Another shameful story, come on NB…
Like my dear friend Wes, I also had an audible malfunction in sixth grade: The resident music editor of this here blog effortlessly rapped every single bar to Aaron Carter’s critically acclaimed “That’s How I Beat Shaq“. In front of the entire class. With newly minted, partially bleached blond hair. FWIW, AC’s still killin’ it these days.
+Speaking of sixth grade, helluva year. Once, in a pressure situation, I guessed that the slang term jizz was a euphemism for drugs. That was incorrect. I spent the next year of my life being told to “smoke jizz” by my friendly cohorts.
+I can also take the title of World’s Greatest Hypocrite. If trolling was a thing on dial-up, I trolled the AIM world when I created the screen name “Sk8trH8tr” as a young, impressionable asshole. Not one year later, I was wearing Blacklabel, riding Element, rockin’ Globe shoes. All this because I wanted to take up the guitar and thought that skateboarding was a mandatory counterculture compliment, like peanut butter and jelly. I don’t know.
+I’ll never forget you, William Howe, British Commander-in-Chief of forces during the American War of Independence. I stuttered and stammered through an 8th grade speech on your Redcoat shenanigans so badly that I immediately started plotting what my next alias was going to be in my new life in Siberia after its closure.
+I never got a detention in high school. A dweeb of a law-abiding citizen in my youth. Unfriend and unfollow, I understand.
+Also around high school, in a harmless attempt at some metrosexual manscaping, I unintentionally shaved off an eyebrow. I of course had two choices: reciprocate the other prominent brow, or change my identity completely until regrowth could be substantiated. Guess which one I opted for…
+I’ve gotten denied purchasing alcohol twice in my life: Once, in college, at the bar known as the Crystal. My fellow Ohio University peoples will understand the magnitude of this failure–I’m not sure I’ve ever regained confidence in handing a bouncer my identification since. I also recently got rejected $80 Miller Lites at an Arcade Fire concert because my ID had expired just a week earlier, in front of a lengthy line of judging hipsters, mind you. Thanks for having my back on those eventually, Z.
+I sometimes eat two Chipotle burritos in one sitting. There’s nothing really more to this story except that seems a Louis CK level of food misery.
To save face what little face I have left, I want to mention the coolest thing I’ve ever done: own a Zlatan Ibrahimovic kit.