Best Week Ever: December 12, 2008

“I am not dead. i am just in New York.”

-I am at the Missbehave office sort of working from Emilia’s old computer. One of the boys who works upstairs walks in. He looks at me and goes, “How’s your job going?” Confused I reply, “What job?” He points to my surroundings and simply states, “This one.”

-Myspace and it’s new friend Facebook give me horrible anxiety to the point I check them once a week now, at best. I am going through my Facebook messages when I stop. I get the attention of whoever is in the room and announce, “I just received a Facebook message from a dude I know asking me why I stopped following him on Twitter.”  I closed Facebook and that was the end of that for the week.

-One afternoon, Sally’s Ichat away message expresses her need for a cat lawyer. Upon inquiring about this, I learn that her kitty is so loud at night running around that one of her neighbors claims to be unable to sleep and thinks she should get rid of the cat. Therefore, Sally is in search of cat lawyer to represent her cat in the ordeal. I sympathize that the woman must be crazy. I add, “If you can sleep through it, I am sure she can!” Then Sally adds, “Well I can’t either, but I love him.”

-On the train one day, the dude next to me gets my attention. He asks, “Aren’t you Steve’s old roommate?” Confused as to who he is and what Steve he is referring to, my brain begins trying to make sense of this.  I realize he is talking about the strange semi-retarded 30 year old college student I shared an apartment with early summer, until he spent hours going through my bedroom and personal belongings. Upon calling him a creepy pervert, he informed me i would need to move out. He cited the fact he had found what he had determined to be my period blood once on the floor of the bathroom. This was the reason I needed to leave, not the visible nervous breakdown he had when I asked him how my panties smelled after the room invasion bit. My pleasant memories are interrupted when the dude goes, “Do you know if he moved back to Ohio?” I begin mumbling about how insane he was and comparing him to Rain Man, when I then realize I had reached my stop. I stand up and announce, “I certainly hope so!” I then exit the train.

-I am talking to Dave via Ichat one morning. It is still the previous evening for him, making our conversation that much more enjoyable. At some point he goes, “You have 29,000 Myspace friends?” I inform him he is correct. He then adds, “You must still be relevant!” To which I add, “I am not dead. i am just in New York.”

-The new Missbehave magazine comes out. I flip through it until I come upon the first thing I had written and instantly burst into tears. The article was about these Volcom sock puppets. Each puppet was an animal wearing a different outfit. The one I was referring to was a snake dressed in a tuxedo. Yet, somehow for some reason someone chose to replace the word snake with skateboard at the last minute, leaving the whole thing to make absolutely no sense and me to look like I might be slightly retarded. While half crying explaining it to Sally and watching her attempting not to laugh, I realized how ridiculous the above story sounded and decided to stop telling it.

-Nikki and Adam are two of my many interesting friends from college. They both live in New York and have media jobs. They have gotten into the habit of giving my contact info to people writing pieces on just about anything. I, in turn am asked for my thoughts on said ridiculous topic for said journalist’s accompanying article. Upon giving a thrilling interview about my inability to make actual phone calls, I BBM Nikki thanking her. I go, “I can’t wait till next week when some dude calls me and is like “I am doing an article on hair. Nikki and Adam say you have a whole head of it!”

-I receive a strange Myspace message from some girl I have never met, nor even lives in New York. She asks me who had made the flyer we had posted for an upcoming Missbehave event. I inform her Sally our Art Director had. The girl writes back, informing me that she is seeking monetary compensation because Sally had photo-shopped her head onto some other girl’s body on the flyer. I write her back explaining that her scenario is a little far fetched. I suggest that PERHAPS a more likely scenario would be that a girl on the flyer sort of looked like her. But, the transcript of our exchange is much longer and more enteratining that this. Sally is reading the whole thing, laughing.  At the end she announces, “Creative director.” She points to where I called her the Art Director. She adds, “They gave me a promotion.” I roll my eyes and close the laptop.

-Glen writes me on Ichat circa 11 am here, making it 8 ish back in LA. He simply writes, “Go to bed!” I explain that I already did, which seems to  confuse him. So I start again, “I went to sleep last night, woke up today, drank coffee, showered….” He stops me, “You showered?” I rolled my eyes and typed back, “Go to bed!”