Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
INTRODUCTION
Blastoff!
Megan: All right! Bum‑ba‑da‑dum! Blastoff! (Laughs) This is the introduction to our book. Carefully and meticulously handcrafted, word by word.
Nick: Start your engines.
M: This book consists of our time‑tested insights into a number of topics, mostly in the areas of math and science.
N: It’s riddled with sordid details.
M: Sordid math details?
N: That’s right.
M: Like pi . . .
N: There are specific algorithms we created concerning the relationship between a woman and a man . . .
M: The birds and the bees.
N: The body produces its own lubrication in many instances . . .
M: Oh, wait a minute. This is the intro! Dude!
N: That’s physics!
M: No, no. Too soon! We do get into lubricants of various kinds. But not until later on in the book. Let’s not open with that.
So, Nick, how would you describe this kick‑ass sheaf?
N: To my way of thinking, it’s an illustration of a relationship that the reader might find surprisingly normal. When all you have by which to judge a relationship are some grippingly cute Instagram videos, it might not occur to one that there’s a lot of banal real life.
M: So this book is all the boring stuff? (Laughs)
N: Yeah.
M: Great! It’s going to sell like hotcakes.
N: It’s worse than just cuteness and puzzles with us.
There is also a great deal of tedium.
M: We wanted to make sure we got that down on paper.
N: Yes. We intend to elaborate for your reading pleasure.
M: Who would you say is the ideal audience for this book?
N: Altar boys?
M: (Laughs) This is a multigenerational, multigenderational, postmodernist deconstruction of the greatest love story ever told. Meaning, our relationship.
N: It’s for readers young and old, male and female, as well as LGBTQ . . .
M: . . . AI.
N: AI. And also every race, religion, every creed, every political leaning will find something to learn about the body’s ability to lubricate itself.
M: No! Well, all right . . . I have to concede, that is what the book is about.
N: When you think about it, what we all have in common is a sort of assemblage of meat that has interesting nooks and crannies.
M: Well, yeah, but then you have to find another meat assemblage with its own nooks and crannies, and then you have to start making the love.
N: You’ve hooked me. If I were reading this introduction, I would now plunge ahead to chapter one.
M: That’s the hook of the book. Meatloaf.
N: Meatloaf . . . with gravy.
M: Oh god. (Laughs) You’ve circled back around.
So, yes, it is in fact a book about the love affair—the nonplatonic relationship—between Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally, married couple and holders of social media accounts. That’s probably our biggest claim to fame, right?
N: Yes, that’s our thing.
M: My whole thing is really just my Twitter.
N: Two people who have thrilled millions upon social media. And also done some other things.
M: And two people who are extremely devoted to athletics. Sports! Sports of all kinds.
N: If you love sports . . .
M: You’re going to fucking shit over this book.
N: You’re going to blow a load.
M: He’s back to the lubricants here.
N: That just proves my point.
M: We have groundbreakingly divided this searing examination of a relationship between two human beings into chapters with different subject matters and headings. It’s an oral history presented to you in an organized yet playful fashion, dotted here and there with photography and cute drawings.
N: Before you dive in, make sure you’ve had a good meal. You’ll want to make sure you’re hydrated. And if you’re of age, a little bit of intoxication would not hurt the consumption of this tome. And then you may want to buckle up. Actually strap into a seat, because otherwise you might end up on the floor. If you’re wearing a hat, go ahead and remove it, because it’s guaranteed to fly off by the end of chapter three.
M: All right . . . I don’t think we’ve oversold it.
N: No, I don’t think that, of the many dangers facing us . . .
M: I think we’ve exercised a good deal of restraint in our praise of our own book about ourselves.
N: Antony and Cleopatra . . .
M: Fuck off.
N: Samson and Delilah . . .
M: Get lost.
N: Bogart and Bacall . . .
M: Never had a chance.
N: Suck it.
M: All right! See you guys in the book!
N: See you there!
