First of all I want to thank Kevin for including me in this week's Vegas guest posting spectacular. My name, in case you're living under a rock, is Karl. Maybe you're asking how I warranted a slot amongst Hilly, Dustin, Sandra, Dave, and Sizzle. One word: hypnosis. It works. Even now, I'm willing to bet that Kevin is walking around Caesar's Palace clucking like a chicken. Katie may or may not find this to be a turn-on, I don't know.
I'd like to explore a topic today that hasn't been researched or documented nearly enough: High Maintenance. There are many people out there who are high maintenance, or HiMa (pronounced hi-may). HiMa people come in all shapes and sizes and they aren't always easy to spot. Some of them are quite stealthy, in fact.
Now, some might say that women who wear tops are HiMa. That simply isn't true. I know many women that wear tops and hide their breasts from the world. That doesn't make them HiMa, it makes them prudes.
No, HiMa refers to people that require more than the normal amount of attention. They feel the need to be treated "special," to make numerous demands of the people around them. There's a sense of entitlement there, that if us regular folk are to enjoy the privilege of hanging around them, we should be prepared to put in supernatural amounts of effort. It isn't narcissism per se, it's much more than that.
Can I give some examples? Sure. The first one that comes to mind is from the movie "When Harry Met Sally." Meg Ryan's character, Sally? HiMa. Harry flat out tells Sally that she's HiMa.
There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Which one am I?
You're the worst kind. You're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.
Indeed, I think that many HiMa people think they're LoMa. No one wants to believe they're a pain in the ass, so they delude themselves by saying that their frequent outrageous wants and needs are nothing out of the ordinary. But they are. Look at a scene in "When Harry Met Sally" where Sally is ordering a piece of pie.
But I'd like the pie heated and I don't want the ice cream on top, I
want it on the side, and I'd like strawberry instead of vanilla if you
have it, if not then no ice cream just whipped cream but only if it's
real; if it's out of the can then nothing.
Not even the pie?
No, I want the pie, but then not heated.
That's freaking HiMa, people. No denying it. And I know people like this, the people waiters and waitresses hate. Always asking elaborate questions, making substitutions, getting stuff on the side. That's right, if you're HiMa, waiters and waitresses probably hate you. Especially if you leave a shitty 15% tip.
Here's a tip for telling if you're HiMa or LoMa. If you can order something straight off the menu without saying another word, you're LoMa. If you need to ask questions, such as what town the cow came from that turned into the roast beef platter, you're HiMa. If you ask for egg whites cooked without butter, you're HiMa.
People that say, "I need to get the car washed." LoMa. People that say, "Gotta get the Beemer detailed." HiMa. If you refer to your car by its make or model, you're HiMa.
There are other easy ways to spot a HiMa person. For instance, anyone who gets Botox injections or shoots fat into their lips is HiMa. (Consider Meg Ryan, who I had a crush on before she went and blew up her lips.) These are the women who are totally tied up in their looks, to the point where they're willing to butcher themselves and look like clowns. These are the women who take two painstaking hours before they can leave the house. HiMa.
Scenario. I say to my girlfriend (pretend I have one) that we should go down to the pub for some drinks. How long does she take to get ready? If she just throws on a t-shirt and jeans (because yeah, she walks around naked, she's no prude) and says, "Let's go" - that's LoMa, baby. If she says, "OK, give me a minute" and then she goes into the bathroom to wax and tweeze and pluck and curl and flatiron and apply makeup with a trowel and comes out 90 minutes later, says to me "Is that what you're going to wear?", that's HiMa all the way.
Scenario. My girlfriend (stop snickering) and I go to an amusement park. I point out the river rapids ride. Does she grab my hand and run for it, screaming, "Yee ha!" ? LoMa. Does she say, "I don't want to get my hair wet"? HiMa.
Then there are the people that aren't physically so demanding as much as they are emotionally demanding. Those are Emotionally High Maintenance, or eHiMa (ee-Hi-May). An example of this is if someone e-mails you 13 times a day, sends you 30 text messages, calls you a dozen times on your cell, and still wants to see you tonight. Ugh. Please, you are sucking the life out of me.
Or let's say I go to a bar with a couple of guy friends and I tell you about it later. Then you start whining about why I didn't include you, when we already had a morning sex marathon and then went to brunch and the mall in the afternoon. eHiMa.
You demand twice daily phone calls? Expect to know my entire day's agenda, tell you my every destination, check in if I decide to go to Quiznos for lunch instead of Subway? eHiMa.
Now, if you're HiMa in avery aspect - emotionally, physically, sexually - that makes you Prime High Maintenence, PriHiMa (pry-hi-may). I'm pretty sure Lindsay Lohan is PriHiMa.
Me, I'm SuLoMa (Super Low Maintenance). I must drink Guinness in a frosty pint glass, eat virgin beef off of fine china, and can only orgasm if you shove ostrich feathers up my ass and pour Listerine on my penis while singing Erasure songs.
But I don't text you 7 times an hour about it.