Daily Dialogue: Problem of the Vanities

Forty minutes of the day, I dive into the chaos of the mind and pull out a conversation twixt two random women.

Vanna
I think I’m, like, dying so something.

Chrissy
Oh, don’t say that. Your roots aren’t showing.

Vanna
Not Loreal, mallrat. I mean, like, death.

Chrissy
Are you sure?

Vanna
I got up today and stood in front of the mirror, you know? And I saw. The world’s. Worst. Thing.

Chrissy
A scratch on your Prada?

Vanna
Ok, so, like the world’s. Second. Worst. Thing.

Chrissy
A man who loves you more than he has cash in his wallet?

Vanna
A wrinkle, Chrissy. Like, right near my eye.

Chrissy
Oh no, that’s like the third worst thing in the world.

Vanna
I know. The only reason I’m telling you is because your ass found a new dimple.

Chrissy
It does? Does my insurance cover that? Oh well, I’ll just get Papa to get me a special Botox injection.

Vanna
As opposed to the other injections you get back there?

Chrissy
No, you big silly. Cocks go back there, not needles.

Vanna
We’re, like, getting sidetracked, or whatever. What are we gonna do about my wrinkle?

Chrissy
It’s just one, right?

Vanna
Yeah.

Chrissy
Couldn’t you get an iron and starch it like a shirt?

Vanna
Vanna doesn’t do manual labor. And they don’t make handles that small.

Chrissy
Aw con-chair! My dollhouse has a kitchen that I turned into a second salon and in it, there was an iron for Barbie.

Vanna
Does it plug in?

Chrissy
No, I think you have to leave it on the tiny stove.

Vanna
More work? How long would it take to heat up?

Chrissy
I dunno. Ken never paid the bill so nothing works.

Vanna
Ugh, men.

Chrissy
I know, Barbie complains to me all the time about how, like, he doesn’t even have a pee-pee.

Vanna
Maybe he lost it at your backdoor with G.I. Joe and My Buddy.

Chrissy
Ew. Maybe that first one, but the second one’s a child, Vanna. They lock you up for that, or burn you alive and make you live in dreams.

Vanna
Burn you alive? Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about wrinkles. Lucky.

Chrissy
We should burn you alive.

Vanna
No, I tanned last night. And I have a date later. We don’t know how long it would take.

Chrissy
Yeah, you’re right.

Vanna
Chrissy, what am I gonna do? This adds, like, five years to my face.

Chrissy
Yeah, no one’s gonna want you except drunk bouncers and that guy who helps my mother do her taxes.

Vanna
You know, taxes don’t need to be done every week.

Chrissy
They do if you wanna do them right.

Vanna
Oh yeah. Maybe I should ask him to– Oh fuck, it’s starting.

Chrissy
You’re gonna be ok.

Vanna
No, this is it! Next thing I know, I’m gonna trade in all my underwear for girdles and drink… drink… light beer!

Chrissy
You shut your whore mouth!

Vanna
No guy’s gonna want me so you can’t even call it that! It’s gonna be, like, a boarded-up well!

Chrissy
No, people at least sit on those.

Vanna
Am I so worthless that no one will sit on my face?

Chrissy
Maybe that woman at the post office.

Vanna
What’s that?

Chrissy
The place where mail comes from.

Vanna
Why do they call it a post office if they don’t sell posts?

Chrissy
Puritans.

Vanna
Will they ever go away?

Chrissy
Nope. And like your wrinkle, they’ll only get worse over time.

Vanna
How soon can Ken get that job? I need that stove to work so I can, like, be young again.

Chrissy
I dunno. They don’t even get newspapers.

Vanna
Ugh, men are so useless! Why do we care about them?

Chrissy
Because, you big silly, if we didn’t, we’d have to pay for our houses and clothes and cars and escorts.

Vanna
Always my clarion bell… Wait. I have an iron. I think.

Chrissy
Yeah, but it’s not, like, eye-sized.

Vanna
I’ll use just the tip.

Chrissy
Oh, that’ll definitely work! It does for me.

Vanna
I’m sure it does. Will I need starch?

Chrissy
Do you have any corn starch?

Vanna
Am I a fucking baker’s wife over here?

Chrissy
Hey, I don’t appreciate your tone, or whatever.

Vanna
You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just that my face means a lot to me.

Chrissy
I know. That’s why we’re gonna take an iron to it and smooth out that wrinkle by your eye.

Vanna
“We?” You mean… You’re, like, gonna help me? Or whatever?

Chrissy
I’ve known your for as far back as I can count. What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t here in your time of need?

Vanna
Oh, thank you! I was afraid that you’d be, like, still angry that I keyed your Pagani Zonda.

Chrissy
Why ever would I be angry at you, like, ruined a million-dollar supercar? Let’s get that iron.

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