“If it’s cool, I’m going to pass. I guess I never felt comfortable with you having my # in your phone after the “incident”.
Oops. Did I unintentionally hit reply all?”
You’re a clever little devil, I whispered to myself after sending it, and slapped myself five, then went about figuring out what accoutrements to put on my Boar’s Head Sausalitio turkey sandwich at lunch. But in the brief time that I’d gone out of my room to study the contents of the fridge (I drink f***ing one % milk, Dad, not two!!!), I received five emails, all from people who’d assumed they were responding solely to my friend, but were, in fact, responding just to me; asking questions about me, making comments about my (alleged) sexual proclivities, telling my friend I was weird, and/or relaying intimate personal details about their own lives in the coded, specific way that only makes sense between friends.
Although none of the emails I unintentionally received were that bad, I was horrified that someone would send another email to me detailing their Kevin Alexander hatred or worse, sending a link to my Facebook photo album. I thought about sending out another group email warning people about what was happening, but that seemed confusing and lame and Boy Cries Wolf-esque, so instead I’ve done nothing but bitch about it on my blog in a story that–now that i read it again–isn’t all that sweet . Lesson: re-read your blog entries before posting.
New website I’m unhealthily obsessed with: Nikeid.nike.com
Old Instant Messenger Screen name, which created some confusion as to my gender: kevina9
How, friends, does anyone do any work in SoCal? The weather is offensively good, the people are “sun kissed”, even people walking around the (outdoor!) malls are vaguely athletic. Today, for example, I tried to write several times but Frank kept asking me to do “activities” because he’s my “guest” and he’s “sick of watching me sift through Youtube videos from the 80s all day pretending to work on my novel”. Not to mention, he was in a bad mood because Fed Ex tried to steal the flat screen TV he just purchased. It’s a longer and more complicated story than that, but after the skill and hilarity of my email anecdote, what would be the point? So instead of writing, I went outside and spent several hours in the hot tub complaining about how hard my life is, which was annoying in itself because you can barely hear anything over the tub jets.
Fear ye not, though. Frank only has one more day of visitation rights and then I will have no excuse but to resume my writing routine. This will give us something to talk about. And thank God, because things are getting awkward, huh? But until that time I guess I have no choice but to continue in my quest to bring you the most musical of diamonds in the proverbial rough. Todays edition comes straight from 1985, the year that brought us the creation of the Internet’s Domain Name System, that movie where Harrison Ford pretends to be Amish and the release of New Coke. Coincidence? Yes.
Join me next when I find my father easily filling in the answer to a crossword puzzle clue involving the Spice Girls.
These Dreams go on when I close my eyes,
every second of the night
PS- pictured below: Heart’s Nancy Wilson wins a David Bowie-in-Labyrinth look-alike contest while falling in then out of water, electric guitar in hand.