Free This Is a Book by Demetri Martin Page B

Actor for an outstanding performance when being shown a friend’s tattoo and acting impressed by it despite actually thinking that it looks terrible.
    A fully endowed fellowship that goes to the person who has made an outstanding scholarly contribution to the study of what can be worn at least one more time before putting it into the hamper.
    Award given for excellence in judging strangers who are innocently walking by a yogurt shop in an outdoor mall.
    Gold medalist in sucking at each and every sport that could make someone popular in high school.
    Congressional Medal of Snacking.
    A grant for doing research into just what kind of asshole the guy who cut me off in traffic is.
    Best Screenplay That Is Still Just in Someone’s Head.
    Honorary doctorate for appearing to know more about cool bands than one actually does.
    Semifinalist in national competition for overthinking one’s own haircut.
    Award for Perfect Attendance on Earth for Whole Life So Far.
    Best Actor while eating food served to him at his girlfriend’s parents’ house.
    Trophy for special achievement in leaving just enough liquid in the juice container so that the next person who uses it will have to throw it out.
    Nobel Prize for Chemistry with Very Cute Women Who Turn Out to Already Have Boyfriends.

Better Than Sex
     
    Dear Friends,
     
    I’m sorry for the mass e-mail, but I felt it was important that I get in touch with all of you to clear something up. Over the years I have used the term “better than sex” on numerous occasions. In fact, I think I’ve probably used that term even more often than the average person, probably due to my particular circumstances. Anyway, it seems that on many, if not all, of those occasions, I was a bit off-base and didn’t quite understand what I was saying. Let me see if I can explain.
    After my recent breakup with Cheryl I was lucky enough to have sex with several other women. And after those very enlightening experiences, I have come to understand just how misguided I was all of those times when I described things as “better than sex.”
    First of all, if you didn’t know, Chryl was the first woman I ever had sex with. I was happy to have sex with her, and it was pretty good, as far as I could tell. Of course, I didn’t really have anything to compare it to. And I believe that was where my difficulties with the expression may have started.
    When I said to more than a few of you that living in New Jersey was “better than sex” I was not lying. Technically it was, given what I knew at the time. But, after having sex with Tamara and then Roxanne, I can see how that statement was grossly inaccurate, and even ridiculous. I can now confidently say that living in New Jersey is not better than sex. It’s not even in the same ballpark as sex.
    Mark, you might remember the time when we were camping and I described the rice cake I was eating as “better than sex.” You looked puzzled and said I was crazy. I told you that
you
were crazy. I was insistent. Well, Mark, I now see your point, and I stand corrected,
very
corrected. I can now say that rice cake (or anything I have ever eaten in my life, for that matter) was not “better than sex” thanks to my experience with Venus. By the way, this also applies to when I described both the bird’s nest we found on our hike and our canoe as “better than sex.” Again, my experiences with Cheryl kind of set the bar a bit low, and I didn’t know what I was saying.
    When I started to think about it, I realized that there were many things that I inaccurately described as “better than sex” over the years. Some that I can remember include:
     
Air-conditioning
    Finding a good parking spot
    New carpeting
    Sitting down
    An adjustable baseball hat
    Not being stuck in traffic
    Tim’s one-man show
    Using my new scanner
    Wheat Thins
    Killing a fly that had been bothering me
    Not having sex
     
    While each of these was technically “better than sex” at the time, they