A Vitamin C Emergency

May 4, 2010

-How was work?

-So shitty.

-My day sucked too. So this PR fag comes in the lobby with two boxes of Clementines, one in each hand, and demands to know what room you-know-who is in. And I say I can’t tell you because he doesn’t want to be disturbed. So the PR fag says, His MOTHER asked me to deliver these Clementines. It’s an emergency. A Vitamin C emergency. This guy is so tiny, right, so the boxes are pulling down his shoulders. And I’m like, Alright, alright. So I call you-know-who and he answers all pissed off. I say there’s a dude in the lobby with two boxes of Clementines for you and he says they’re from your mother. And guess what you-know-who says? Guess. Guess.

-Just tell me.

-He says, My mother’s been dead for ten years and he starts crying maniacally. I turn to the PR fag and say, He says his mother’s been dead for ten years. And now he’s upset. And the PR fag says, No she’s not, I went shopping with her this morning. I tell you-know-who that he went shopping with your mom this morning and he says, Oh my God, it must’ve been her g-g-g-g-g-ghost. So I tell the PR fag that you-know-who thinks it was a ghost, and the PR fag says, This is the worst, I’m leaving these here. He drops the Clementines in the lobby and storms out. I get back on the phone and tell him that he’s gone. And I say, Do you want me to bring you the Clementines? He says, Yes, bring me the Clementines and find out what the deal is with Pumps. Pumps is a strip club in Bushwick.

-I know what Pumps is.

-He’s been pulling these stunts all week and it’s been awesome. You can’t tell anyone this, by the way.

-I won’t tell anyone.

- So why was work shitty?

-We ran out of fried chicken again and this guy got all upset and started yelling at me.

-That sucks.

-And he left a ten-dollar tip on a hundred-dollar meal.

-Shit.

-And as he was leaving I gave him this look, like, You’re a dick. And he looked back like, I know I am, I’m sorry. So we kinda connected. Which was nice.

-The same thing happened yesterday with me and you-know-who. He’s getting into a car and he turns around all slow and cool and asks me where the college girls hang out and I say, Try Hey Jealousy. He says, I heard that place is beat and I’m like, yeah, it is but it can be fun. And he says, Then why did you recommend it? And I’m like, Because there are college girls there. He says, yeah, but if it’s beat, don’t recommend it next time. And I say I’m sorry. And you-know-who says  – and this is classic — he says: Sorry is a word for the unmindful.

-Wow. That’s deep. Kinda, maybe.

-I know, right? I wanted to ask if the line was his or Deepak Chopra’s or Dr. Phil’s or some shit, but he was already in the car.

-Sorry is a word for the unmindful. I think I might use it.

-What?

-I think I might use the line. In conversation.

-Maybe you shouldn’t.

-Why not?

-‘Cause it could back to him that I was talking about him and he might not like it.

-How on earth would it get back to him? And anyway, you were spreading his wisdom. He’ll love it, and I’ll source him.

-Source him?

-When I use it I’ll say that the line is his. Like when you source a book in a research paper.

-I see. But let me find out if it’s actually his first and, if so, if it’s OK for you to spread it around.

-Oh, please. What does it matter?

-Oh it matters. Oh, oh, oh! Did I tell you about the thing we’re adding to the grill’s menu? It’s pigs in a blanket, but fabulous. You have your choice of sausage: Gouda-chicken or apple-chicken, and the pastry is dotted with caraway seeds. I ate three yesterday. I posted a picture if you wanna look.

-I’ll check it out.

Next: Do We Need Cynar? 3

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