by Shane Dawson
Tara: We should try out for the musical!
Me: What? Why? Can’t we just pretend we have Tourette’s and go through the Burger King drive-through again?
Tara: We did that yesterday. Come on! It’ll be fun!
Me: That’s what you said about searching through my mom’s closet. And finding that Polaroid of her crawling on my dad’s naked legs was the opposite of fun.
Tara: Don’t you trust me?
No. I did not trust her. For good reason! This is the same girl who thought it was a good idea to watch water-birth videos on YouTube while we were eating Thai food. But because I go along with everybody my answer was obvious.
Me: Yes.
So that day Tara and I went to the auditions, which were being held in the chorus room. As we walked in she started pointing out our competition.
Tara: That’s Lacy Barnes. Good at high notes. Bad at suckin’ dick.
Me: How do you know that?
Tara: I fucked her boyfriend a few times. Nothing serious though. Just during lunch period.
Me: Right.
Tara: That’s Jay Hernandez. Bad at high notes but REALLY good at suckin’ dick. You gotta watch out for him. He ALWAYS gets the lead.
Me: Are you saying he sucks the teacher’s dick?
Tara: NO! That’s disgusting.
Pot. Kettle. Black. Continue.
Tara: But the teacher doesn’t cast the play. The student teacher does.
Me: Student teacher?
Tara: Ya. It’s this guy who graduated last year. I forgot his name but if he’s coming back to his old high school he must not be getting any in college. Jay’s gonna be on that dick like sprinkles on fro yo.
Me: Is it gay that my stomach just grumbled?
Tara: Oh my God. There she is. Patty Stevens.
Patty Stevens was every musical casting director’s wet dream. She had long flowing blond hair, big doe eyes that caught the light perfectly, and a voice bigger than her ass (and her ass was pretty big). She always had a different boyfriend who would cling to her side like a personal assistant. Feeding her, giving her sips of her off-campus Frappuccino, and fixing her bangs when they got too scattered. There were lots of rumors about Patty floating around school. One was that she had super-rich parents who’d invented fake belly rings. Another was that she’d had four nose jobs and an abortion in the same semester. That last one was more of a compliment considering we were all jealous of her talent for multitasking. When Patty Stevens was auditioning for a musical, she was getting the lead. No question. The student teacher, Raul, walked in, and Tara was right. He looked hungry for his high school glory days and even hungrier for cock. I was doomed to get a spot in the back of the chorus.
Raul: Hello, everyone! It’s SO good to be back in my old home! I missed this SO much! Jay, you better get your booty out of my old desk, you silly bitch!
Yep. Jay was going to get the lead for sure. And possibly bent over a desk.
Raul: Let’s get these auditions started! Who’s first?!
The auditions went by extremely slowly. For every amazing performance there were about six horrendous ones that deserved to end with stone throwing and a possible guillotine situation. Then it was my turn, and I was horrified. I didn’t know we were going to have to sing that day so I didn’t have a song prepared. So I performed something by heart, something that, if done right, was sure to bring out some tears in the audience.
Me: Hi. My name is Shane and I’m going to be singing “A Moment Like This” by American Idol winner Kelly Clarkson.
Let’s just say I’m no Kelly Clarkson. After my horrible rendition I left the stage. Tara went after me. She sang some show tune I had never heard before. It wasn’t bad. I was actually impressed. I was so proud that I forgot I’d tanked and started beaming for her. She sat back down and I grabbed her for a hug. There was a moment I thought she could actually get the lead . . . until I heard what came next.
Patty: Hi! My name is Patty and I’m going to be singing “Somewhere over the Rainbow.”
Shit. Not only did she blow it away, she actually cried while performing without missing a note. She was a true diva. She got a standing ovation from her peers and Raul couldn’t contain himself. He squealed with pleasure like a sadistic pig getting branded by a hot iron. She was seriously born to be a leading lady; there was no questioning it.
The next day the results were posted on the door of the chorus room after school. Just like in the movies, we all ran there after the bell rang to see what our parts were. There was screaming, crying, and lots of fake hugging. Tara and I made our way up to the door and took a deep breath.
Tara: You ready?
Me: As long as I’m not a tree I’ll be happy.
We both looked and saw our fate. Tara was cast as the second lead, which was amazing! I was cast as “Fat Funny Tourist.” “Fat” wasn’t in the name but trust me, after reading the script, I knew it should have been. My only line was “WHO’S HUNGRY?!” and I was wearing a safari outfit that was “two sizes too small.” Just like Patty, I was born for this role.
The next day we went to our first read-through. The cast was made up of a collection of many different types of people, but they were all nerds. There were the gay nerds, the book nerds, the chorus nerds, the drama nerds, and of course the lesbian nerds. Although the lesbian nerds weren’t in the cast, technically. They were helping to build the sets and rig all the stage lighting. I for sure thought I wasn’t going to fit in because I wasn’t really a nerd. I was more of a loser. And trust me, there’s a difference. I wasn’t super smart or in possession of some kind of awesome skill. I was just a normal fat dude with sweat-gland issues.
The door opened and in walked a large woman with a look of menace smeared across her face. Everyone stopped talking and gave her their full attention. This was our director, Mrs. Welch. For the next two months, she would be the Ursula to my Little Mermaid.
Mrs. Welch: Hello. I’m Mrs. Welch. I’m sure some of you have heard of me. If you haven’t, you will. I don’t take this job lightly. This musical will be perfect because it HAS to be. Anyone have a problem with that?
She was a true Disney villain. She had the face of a woman who killed puppies and ate them with a side of children’s tears for dipping. She walked like a pirate with a wooden leg. She even had a belt made out of rope. Every year she would come to our school to direct the play and none of us knew what she did out in the real world. I’m guessing she owned a shooting range. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy so I did what I knew how to do best. I tried to quit. I went to walk out the door but was stopped by her large-and-in-charge arm. There was a collection of spider veins on it that looked like a GPS map of Los Angeles during heavy traffic. So many BOLD DARK LINES.
Mrs. Welch: Where do you think you’re going?
Me: I just remembered I can’t do the musical because I have to do homework.
Mrs. Welch: Did you audition?
Me: Yes.
Mrs. Welch: Did you get a part?
Me: Yes.
Mrs. Welch: Do you think it’s fair to your other cast mates to leave them and force them to find a replacement? Do you think the president can just LEAVE the White House and let them FIGURE IT OUT?
Me: I’m playing Fat Tourist. That’s hardly the president.
Mrs. Welch: Sit down.
Me: But—
Mrs. Welch: If you don’t sit down I will make you sit down.
Me: You technically can’t—
She flexed her big arm and the roads of Los Angeles EXPANDED. I ran back to my chair in sheer terror.
A week later we started doing full rehearsals. We were on the auditorium stage working out our moves and our songs. In between songs we would sit backstage and hang out while Mrs. Welch took care of her IBS in the bathroom. Most of the conversations between the kids were way more se
xual than I expected. I had no idea that nerds got laid so much! I heard at least three different stories about braces getting caught on pubes and two different stories about having sex with a protractor. It was truly enlightening.
Patty never engaged in these conversations though. She would sit by herself and read over her lines. She had a way about her that made her seem better than everyone else but nobody was mad at her for that. Everyone felt that she really was better. It’s probably similar to the way people treat Oprah. You just let her do her thing and don’t bother her with your petty normal-people problems. I felt a connection with Patty, but I was too afraid to talk to her. There was something about her that was sad that I couldn’t put my finger on. I knew that deep down underneath that perfect exterior something was broken and felt sure it was something that I could relate to. But instead of trying, I just left her alone. Until the big night.
It was opening night and our two months of hard work had finally paid off. We had rehearsed every day for four hours after school. Mrs. Welch might have been the devil in a suit made out of human skin, but she was incredibly talented at getting kids to seem semi-talented onstage. If you wore earplugs and squinted your eyes halfway shut, you might have thought you were watching a real show. The auditorium was filling up with paying customers and they were ready to be entertained! Backstage we were all freaking out with excitement while Mrs. Welch walked around inspecting our costumes.
Mrs. Welch: Hike up those pants! Nobody wants to see your ass! Tuck in that shirt! Suck in that gut!
She made her rounds until she got to the end of the line, which was me in my small safari costume.
Mrs. Welch: Shane! Are you wearing an undershirt?
Me: Yes. My mom calls it my sweat catcher.
Mrs. Welch: Go back behind that set and take it off! I want to see skin popping out between those stressed buttons!
Me: Ok.
Mrs. Welch: And if you see Patty tell her to get her pretty ass out here! We’re five minutes away from show time!
I went behind the set and standing in the darkness was Patty. She was hunched over crying behind a fake door. Her shirt was only half-buttoned.
Me: Um . . . Patty?
Patty: Oh! Hey. I was just getting ready. Sorry. I’ll be done in a minute.
Me: Are you ok?
Patty: Huh? Oh ya, I’m fine.
She sniffled and tried to play it off. But I knew something was up. Looking at her body, I knew exactly what her problem was. She wasn’t fat by any means but she was soft, and the shirt she was trying to fit into wasn’t the most flattering for her figure.
Me: Want me to ask wardrobe if they have a different shirt?
She looked me in the eyes and saw someone who really got her. What I saw was just a person, a person who needed help.
Patty: How bad does it look?
Me: Not bad at all.
Patty: I got nervous last night and ate my brother’s entire birthday cake. I feel so fat and nothing is fitting. Everyone is going to laugh at me. And everyone is taking pictures and video. I’m gonna look like a fat pig.
Me: You don’t look fat. Especially next to me. If you want I can stand next to you during the cast photo. I can even eat a whole cake first. I skipped my after-lunch snack so I can probably take down a cake.
Patty: [laughs] You aren’t nervous?
Me: No. Because I practiced a lot. And so did you. Even if you went out onstage and were the fattest person in the world it wouldn’t matter, because when you open your mouth to sing it will shut the entire auditorium up. Everyone will forget about everything and only be able to focus on your voice. You are seriously the best singer I’ve ever heard. And I’m not just saying that.
Patty: Really?
Me: Ya. And hearing you say that you feel fat makes me really happy. ’Cause it means you aren’t perfect. ’Cause damn it, it was getting really hard to not secretly hate you.
Patty: Thanks.
She finished getting ready. I took off my undershirt and got my costume back together.
Me: Now let’s go out there and kick some ass.
She gave me a hug, and we walked out together ready to kill it. The show was a success in some ways. Patty was amazing, Tara was great, and I totally nailed my “WHO’S HUNGRY?!” line. Of course there were some sour parts. Mainly when Mrs. Welch got wasted on cheap wine and yelled at people in the audience for not laughing at certain jokes or when Raul got caught making out with one of the lesbian set builders (didn’t see that one coming). But even after all that it was still a night that I will always remember fondly. If you want to see pictures, just Google “Shane Dawson fat wearing safari hat 2006.” You’re welcome.
TWO FIRST KISSES
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Sydney Levine is fourteen years old and is a self-taught artist from Austin, Texas. She has been interested in art ever since she was a toddler, but she became truly motivated when she began sharing her work on the internet in the summer of 2013. Her favorite subjects to draw are animals, movie characters, and Shane Dawson. Follow her on Instagram at @_just_that_artsy_.
When I tell people my first relationship was when I was twenty-one they assume I grew up Amish. They also assume I’m an insanely repressed, closeted homosexual. Considering I’m only twenty-six, there’s still plenty of time for me to explore my gay side. I can even picture myself at age fifty, getting my balls stepped on by a guy wearing a leather mask and screaming expletives in my face. The saddest part is that not only did I experience my first relationship at twenty-one, it was also the age when I had my first kiss. I swear I’m not Amish. The gay thing is questionable.
One night I was hanging out at a friend’s house and she had a new roommate who was from Canada. I have an unhealthy obsession with Canada. I watch all their shows, I know all their catchphrases, and I try to incorporate “aboot” into my speech as often as possible. I don’t know what got me so hooked on the maple people. Maybe it was the imaginary relationship I had with Avril Lavigne when I was thirteen? Or maybe it was the moment Jimmy got shot on Degrassi, which made me empathize with the whole country. Either way, I had maple syrup running through my veins, and not just because I used to drink Aunt Jemima out of the bottle.
When I met this new roommate I wanted to know everything about her. That’s a lie. I wanted to know everything about her homeland and why they drank milk out of bags. We talked for hours and she educated me on everything I ever wanted to know about Canada. I learned why they like ketchup chips and why they are all so polite. She was like a real-life Wikipedia, and all I had to do was type in a question and she would pop out the answer. We hung out for the next week or so, and I don’t think either of us was thinking it would be anything more than a friendship based on the mutual love of her homeland.
The third time we hung out I went over to her place to pick her up and she was crying in the parking lot with a suitcase. This was the beginning of the end of our friendship.
Me: What’s wrong?
Canadian: I got kicked out of my apartment.
Me: What? Why??
Canadian: We got into a fight about something stupid and she kicked me out.
Me: Where are you going to go?
Canadian: I don’t know. I’ll have to find a place.
Me: Well . . . you can stay with me till you find one.
And that, my friends, was the dumbest idea I had ever had. Hey, girl that I just started hanging out with, wanna MOVE IN?! I didn’t realize how insane it sounded because to me I just saw a friend in need, but at the age of twenty-one having a girl move into your small apartment isn’t something sane people do. She reluctantly said yes because she really didn’t have another option. That night we were lying in bed watching TV. I repeat: LYING IN BED WATCHING TV. Another not-so-bright idea when you are twenty-one and friends with a girl. Anyways, we were lying in bed watching TV and we started to
cuddle. Now, this was the first time I had ever cuddled with a girl if you don’t count my mom. My mom and I used to cuddle on the couch and watch shows about women getting brutally murdered, but that’s another story. As we cuddled we both eyed each other with an “Are we doing this?” look. I’m not sure either of us was actually super interested in dating the other, but we were both lonely and sad so it just kind of happened. We decided not to kiss or do anything, mainly because we were nervous but also because we were halfway through an episode of Hoarders and we didn’t want to miss the part where the guy found all the woman’s dead cats.
The next morning we woke up and went to breakfast. It was the first time I had ever been to breakfast with a girl so I didn’t know how to act. I assumed everybody in the restaurant thought we’d had sex that night and were there to replenish, but that wasn’t the case. I didn’t want people to think I did that, especially since at the time I was pretty religious and the thought of having sex before marriage made my guilty Christian penis crawl back up inside my guilty Christian body. We didn’t really talk much during breakfast. I think we both realized that after all the Canada talk we didn’t really have that much in common.
Me: So . . . what do you like to do?
Canadian: I like to travel around the world! You?
Me: I like to lie in bed and watch Netflix while squirting low-fat Reddi-wip into my mouth.
Ya, it wasn’t a match made in heaven. But the next day was a big one. I was shooting my first short film for my YouTube channel. It was set at Christmas and was about a guy (my character) getting his first kiss. I swear I hadn’t written it for personal reasons. The girl I cast was Lisa Schwartz. I had met Lisa a year before when we were working on a video together for another YouTube channel. She was sweet, pretty, and a little older than me. I say “a little older” because even though it was only by a couple of years, given my lack of sexual experience I might as well have been twelve. Although I think twelve-year-olds get more hand jobs than I did. Lisa got to the house where we were filming, and I started talking to her about the scene. I played it SUPER cool.
