Tuesday, April 29, 2003


Britney Spears
Woody Allen, when he's in a good mood
Madonna, when she's in a bad mood
Dave Eggers, who is notorious for shunning the press
Audrey Tautou. And when I say interview, I mean get to "know" each other.
Alan Moore
The staff of the Onion
Kurt Loder
Serena Altschul. The only question I will ask is: will you marry me?
Nick Hornby
Claire Danes circa 1994
Mister Fred Rodgers when he was alive
Kurt Cobain from the beyond with a Séance
Gwyneth Paltrow, once again getting to "know" each other "well."
Both Ben & Jerry so I could thank them for the free ice cream cone I had today.
Bono and the Edge so I could thank them also for the free ice cream cone I had today even though they had nothing to do with it.
Justin Timberlake because I just know that I could make him cry.
Jon Stewart on the condition that I get to be the funny one.
Eddie Van Halen aka God
Thomas Friedman because I just don't trust him. Yet.
Steven Speilberg who owns your ass.
God aka Eddie Van Halen
Jimmy Fallon so I could tell him that yes, he's cute but no, he's really not funny.
Maggie Gyllenhal so I could flex my flirting muscles.
Sadam Hussein. First I would interview him and then I, SLOWLY WITH NO SUDDEN MOVES, would call the police.
Paul Reubens, aka Pee Wee Herman.Hell, forget the interview, I'll write the biography.
Winona Ryder? I'd love to.
Bill Gates because I'm sure he won't notice if I sneak out with some of his loose change.
The guy who invented the Rubik's Cube
Elie Wiesel because I had to put one person on this list to make me look intellectual.
Ethan Hawke who seems like a pretty decent guy.

Wednesday, April 09, 2003

THE WORLD'S SHORTEST WAR STORY (dedicated to the troops):

"War is hell," said the General.
"Indeed it is," confirmed the Major.
"Let's win this one," the General looked to the heavens, "for my late pet dog, Dot."

The End.
[inspired by Naomi Blumberg]

"Why me?" the villager asked the wise Rabbi.
"Better it should be me?" said the Rabbi.
"True, very true," the man nodded in agreement. "How did I not see that?"

The End

"Oh my God," she screamed. "He's dead."
"I know," the butler said back. "Because I killed him."
"You bastard!" she broke down in tears. "How could you?"
"Because he hated my tuna salad!"

The End

"I love you," he said.
"Well, I love you too," she said back.

The End.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

Today I am a temp.
I am temping in the Time Life Building as an assistant to the Head of Marketing for People Magazine. If you're sitting there thinking, "sounds like good times;" well, you're right. Things tend to get crazy in the Marketing Department. The way people just...market things with reckless abandon. The way they just randomly say things like "let's have a meeting" or "do you want coffee?"

The word "temp" is so strange to me. While it does obviously comes from the word "temporary," I'm certain you did not know it's ancient origin is derived from the Latin phrase "surfus internetus all dayus."
There's an incredible amount of freedom to being a temp. You have the stability of getting paid but without that uncomfortable itchy commitment feeling. If this project doesn't get done, the temp thinks, then someone else will just have to do it. Furthermore, the temp is allowed to "screw up" (like I have just done--jeeezus, these phone systems are so hard to master. Voicemail?!? What's effin' voicemail?). The people you work for, think; I mean, he is just a temp. He can't be that intelligent.
Which brings me to my next point: how shocked people are when you actually do something. Like, they completely lose it when you've done something like attach a document to an email. Or when you've forwarded a call to voicemail. You did that, they'll ask in astonishment, as if the person sitting before them was a retarded chimpanzee.
It's also interesting seeing myself through their eyes. I imagine what they think I must be.
I'm certain they consider me the stoner-type. Which is flattering but untrue. I wish I had the ambition to be a stoner.
Perhaps, they think, I'm a musician. Cool. Well then, when do I get "some?"
But that would be inaccurate, too. I'm just a "writer." (Oh man, another writer taking a temp gig--Can I stop being a cliche? Please?)

But I think the most important aspect to being the temp is that the temp is mysterious. The ladies always notice the new guy who drops in like a masked hero to fax and stuff to then leave the office with a trail of broken hearts. You could potentially be the ugliest guy in the office (which I'm not because the guy who sits near the water cooler already has that title) but your anonymity makes you at least 17% sexier. It's been scientifically proven. Just ask the girl sitting across from me who keeps taking off my shoes and socks with her eyes. Just what kind of a guy does she think I am?

The man who I am working for--let's call him Mr. Tim Lyffe Warner--uses the following words way too often: goofy, wacky, anal, and filing. Those four words need to be taken from Mr. Warner before someone gets hurt (most probably the shoe/sock girl because she uses too much hair spray). Warner also has a very soft demeaner, which makes it really hard to dislike him for asking me to do menial yet "wacky" things (do assistants really have to wipe thier boss' butt these days? I did not know this).

Also, it's disconcerting to see how many people have a picture of Cher in their cubes? Is this office protocol?

Well, from sitting at a desk for less than three hours, I've come to learn that I'm no corporate whore.
Well,actually, maybe today I am...but they do have free Diet Coke in the pantry.