Hi! My name is Amelia Meschuggeberger and this is my story. You and I met at the Stinky Dive ‘n Jive Saloon in Brooklyn when COVID sidelined me from my job at the Babes with Boobies Gentlemen’s Club. Unemployed, I was forced to prowl your neighborhood hot-wiring cars and separating catalytic converters from their Prius-es. On the upside, I was honing my skills. On the downside, I was deeply underachieving. Oh, well, it is what it is.
And so, ooh la la. Once again, it’s another year. Gosh darn it to heck! What a boneheaded thing to say! Of course, it’s another year! But, really, when you think about it, it’s even more boneheaded to run around shouting, “It is what it is” every time someone tries to squeeze out a fart and ends up with a hernia.
Even my closest friends say it. Like you know, Izzy “Ice Pick Willie” Schwartz, Angelo “Quack Quack” Ruggiero and Charlie “The Typewriter” Nicoletti. Plus Fluffypuss and Peekaboo who I know from stealing their outgoing mail with checks in ‘em.
“It is what it is.” What in the world does that mean? Isn’t it just a limp little cliché having a moment in the dumbed-down brains of our American brethren? I mean, are we talking about accepting reality? Lowering our expectations? Being a third-rate pole dancer in the strip club of life? Finally realizing that you can take the girl outa New Joisey, but you can’t take New Joisey outa the girl?
But First: The Inside Scoop on Yours Truly
Before we dissect the underbelly of “it is what it is,” let me tell you about myself. Foremostly, I just ooze New York sophistication and sexual libidinousness. Also, I starred in six major Off-Off-Off Broadway productions totally panned by my friends at Fox News. I’ve spent $1.5 million on PSYCHO-therapy, more than any New Yorker in living or dead history. Oh, and I’m super-famoso for running seven businesses, three involving money laundering (four years in Club Fed, très chic). In other words, if being awesome was a crime, I’d be serving a life sentence!
Currently on parole, I spend my free time thinking about cool new scams so I don’t have to go back to Babes with Boobies. What? No, I’m not anti-boobies! I like boobies. I applaud boobies. In fact, I own several pairs of boobies. {Anatomical side note: did you know there are four sizes of boobies? There’s knibs, knobs, droops, and super-droops. And not surprisingly, at Babes with Boobies, the strippers with the super-droops get the biggest tips. Obviously, it is what it is, right?}
What’s that you say? What was my most favorite crime caper? Easy. Three Christmases ago, I got high as a kite on bath salts, broke into my neighbor’s house in the middle of the night, and put up her holiday decorations. Needless to say, that little stunt got me three months. But the judge set me free on my own re-cognizance.
Sadly, I just couldn’t re-cognicize myself so the judge said, “the hell with it, you New York fashionista, just stay out of trouble, and I’ll expungify your record.”
{Full disclosure: when I’m really following my bliss, I cheat tourists from the mid-west outta their cash by playing three-card monte in Times Square. Suckers! Of course, what with COVID and all, tourism is way down. But, in case you want to become a con artiste such as moi, ooh la la, here’s a how-to video for when you have some down time. Yup, three-card monte is da boss!}
Meschuggeberger Mulls “It Is What It Is”
And now back to our story. Having promised Huey, my parole officer from the da Bronx, that I’d be a good girl for six months or less, I’ve dedicated myself to mulling. But, sometimes, mulling makes me mad because, to mull, you have to sit on your ass. And frankly, my dears, sitting around on my ass geometrically increases my butt spread. Which makes me very, very mad.
However, every time I get mad, I remind myself, “prison orange is not my color. Prison orange is not my color. PRISON ORANGE IS NOT MY COLOR!” Whew! Self-regulation is exhausting.
Okay. What does “it is what it is” mean? As I have absolutely no reflective capacities, I was forced to consult with my YouTube therapy quack Dr. Sigmundo Freddy Freudo. I decided to pay him with Dogecoin— a ‘meme’ cryptocurrency endorsed by Tesla CEO and billionaire Elon Musk. However, if the truth be told, and I rarely do, I know nothing about this stuff. But let’s just say that the good doctor is also clueless. Poor sap. Hey, you can take the girl out of the prison, but you can’t take the criminal out of the girl.
{Side note: I am so totally rolling on the floor right now, laughing my head off because I hoodwinked the head shrinker. It is what it is! Yay, me!}
I should also confess that I secretly recorded my session with Dr. Freudo without giving a thought to whether this was legal, ethical, profitable or nice, Hey, the heck with HIPPO, mine, yours or anybody else’s. Put another way, I JUST DIDN’T CARE! Ooh la la!
“It Is What It Is”: The Illegally Recorded Interview
Me: “Thank you for meeting with me, doctor Freudo. I know you’re a busy quack what with hanging out with Armando Fauci-Bulles-Drôles and all. But I beg you, deal me in on the secret. What the macaroni does this grossly annoying bunch of little words, wrapped inside an enigma, packed with spoiled meatballs, inside a bottle of cheap vodka, actually mean?”
Dr. Freudo: “Well, miss, people who say, ‘it is what it is’ think they’re commenting on fate. Expressing a personal philosophy. Making an existential statement. But no matter how many times you look off into the distance with a melancholy, vacant stare and a tear in your eye – UP THE IRISH, LASSIE!!! –you’re communicating that what has come to pass has come to pass and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
{Side note: At this point, I took a break to engage in a prolonged silence of contemplation. Wow! I could hear myself snoring!}
Dr. Freudo: “Hey, miss. Wake up! You’re not gonna believe what I just found in my back pocket! It’s a little wrinkled from having been in the washer and dryer, but you can still read it.”
Intrigued, I took the bait. But don‘t call me “sucker.” And don’t call me late to supper.
The Interview Takes an Omnivorous Turn
Me: “What is it, doctor Freudo?”
Dr. Freudo: “It’s a letter that Armando Fauci-Bulles-Drôles sent Joey Biden. I think he cc’d me by mistake.”
Me: “Hey, cool, doctor dude. Read it to me and I’ll tell you if you can get any money for it.”
Dr. Freudo: “OK. ‘Hey, Joey B! Il mio amore. You’re very sexy for an old fart. Man! When you put on your aviator sunglasses, I feel a zing in my ding dong. Ya know. A shot in my schmeckel. Hey, Joey B! I’ve got great news. I’m a superstar! I’m also a target, but, hey, it is what is! Right, baby? Except I still have to deal with those second-raters on CNN and MSNBC who pretend to be COVID experts. You know, like that hot dame doc from DC who says nasty things about you behind your back in the men’s room at Fox. Oh, yeah, she swings both ways, baby. But, mama mia, Sanjay Gupta! He can give me a prostate exam any time he wants. I’m open 24/7, seven days a week. Mi sono innamorato di te. Armando. PS: Hey, Joey B! Are you a metrosexual?”
I Follow My Bliss to Costa Rica
So, as you can see, my “it is what it is” fact-finding mission with doctor Freudo got sidetracked. But the good news is that I sold the tape. To Chris Cuomo!
You see, my manager, Joey “the Power Tool” Picardo, told me that Chris’s been hiding in his man cave since CNN fired him for advising Randy Andy on how to get away with tickling women’s boobies. Chris spends his time writing love letters to Tucker Carlson and Sean Hannity and, what with being on unemployment, his spirits are a little low.
So, anyboobiedoobie I thought I’d pep Chris up with a real scoop. Maybe save his career. And make me some big money. You’ll never guess what happened! Chris gave me $749,411.46 in cash! That’s a lotta dead presidents! The dough was delivered by his bodyguard, Huey, my parole officer from the da Bronx, and Christmas-wrapped so nobody would think it was a drop. I handed over da goods and hopped a flight to Costa Rica. But my carry-on luggage was too heavy so I had to check the bag. Which was okay. After all, $749,411.46 weighs a ton.
Evil Twin’s Brain Fart of Insight
Sipping a whiskey martini in my first class, super comfy seat on Hooters Airlines, I suddenly heard someone whispering inside my brain. “Ameeeelia, this is Maleficent Meschuggeberger speaking to you from Big Beaver, Saskatchewan. That’s in Ireland.”
Wow! Maleficent! Are you also Angelina Jolie, that hot chick with big lips? I loved you in that movie! “No, you cheap whiskey-addled boobie babe. I am your evil twin. You remember me. We were attached by the ear lobes at birth, but doctor Ben Carson separated us. You remember Ben. He was Trump’s podiatrist back in NYC. So, my dear, I am here to tell you that ‘it is what it is’ is the scam of a lifetime!” The scam of a lifetime? Hey, Maleficent. You got my attention! “My dear sister in second-story work, ‘it is what it is’ allows you to totally get away with stuff. This is how it works.
“First you do something rotten, rude or illegal. Then you look off into the distance with a melancholy stare, shrug your shoulders, sigh, and say, ‘hey, be cool, dude. It is what it is’. Then you walk away and never look back. Now, my sister in carnal knowledge-Staten Island style, I must decide where to jet off to next. Will it be Beaverlick, Kentucky, Long Dong, China, or Dildo, Newfoundland?” And…then…whoosh…she was gone!
Ordering another martini, I started to make plans. On my to-do list? Enroll in a course on Master Class to learn about Ponzi schemes. {Note to self: pay for the course with Dogecoin.} Sell the Brooklyn Bridge to multiple tourists from Saint Vincent and the Grenadines. Start dating a hot dude from Nigeria. Launch one of those dead fairies hoaxes in which Tinker Bell needs a liver transplant.
Whew! I’m exhausted just thinking about all the work I have to do. But, hey. Who cares??? Because I will never, ever have to take responsibility for anything ever again. I can do whatever I like and then just shrug my shoulders and say, “it is what it is. Get over it.” And that, my dears, is my story. Or is it?
You sound and look like such an interesting and beautiful person! Thanks for sharing your story.
And thank you for reading my story!
Im gonna practice that three card monte so i have something up my sleeve when needed. Great article!
Isn’t the 3 card monte video hilarious? And, yes, quite possibly useful in the near future. Thanks for reading!
You sound like a modern day Anna Sorakin what a fun little ditty you have contrived here filled with intriguing ideas for a mastermind.
Fortunately, our dear Amelia is fiction! And I do plan to watch Anna’s story on Netflix. Thanks for reading!
What a crazy story! There’s so much to it. I think I need another martini to digest it all too.
So glad you enjoyed meeting Amelia. And, yes, martinis are definitely the appropriate response to her story!