1. If I mention Audrey
Faulkner in a column, she will ignore the fact that we haven’t
spoken for 11 years and e-mail me to ask me why I was talking about
her. Now I’ve never had a
problem with Audrey Faulkner. She was very nice and extremely
intelligent. Unfortunately, we both suffered from a level of social
awkwardness that was reached by few seventh graders. Despite this
shared trait, our individual personality flaws couldn’t have been
more different. Audrey was incurably shy and spent most of her time
learning new concepts and theories with whom she wouldn’t have
anyone to discuss. I however, spent my time attempting to have
sexual intercourse with every woman in the school, including Audrey
Faulkner. Our time together ended when she politely declined to
participate in sexual intercourse with me and in response queried as
to whether I wouldn’t rather engage in a brief discussion on the
subject of the day’s lesser-known American folklorists. I guess it
was never meant to be. The point is that people are googling their
own names every goddamned day, and they have no shame in admitting
that they were googling their own names when they think they have a
chance at calling out some fat-assed humor columnist for nothing
more than a little libel. Shit.
2. People never know when I’m
lying. Except for the part
about her being shy and frighteningly intelligent, the previous
paragraph was completely fabricated. To me, this fabrication is
obvious. To people who have the capacity to fire off angry e-mails
about me being a sexual predator of American folklore fans or
whatever, these are not jokes…and this is not a humor site…and
if it is, it’s not fucking funny. These are the same people who
stick up for eninen in the comments. You know who you are…stop
sending me emails…I’m sick of deleting them…and if you don’t…I’ll
continue to misuse the ellipse…what are you going to do about it
huh?...I’m improperly using your precious ellipses…and there’s
nothing that you can do…!!! Remember the time that Jeff Kay had to
apologize for the joke about Toney shoveling the driveway? Same
thing. They’re jokes for fuck’s sake…shit!
3. Mentioning a desire to
write copy starts a weird process into motion that is more reliable
than my daily 10:09 a.m. bowel movement. The
process has never failed me yet. It goes a little something like
this: I mention that I like to pretend to write copy, that I think I’m
a relatively creative guy and that I have an interest in writing
copy for real someday. Without fail, I get an email about two hours
after the column is posted from a person who allegedly needs
somebody to write the occasional piece on a freelance basis. I write
them back and tell them that I am excited about the opportunity, but
I have never really written any real copy before, so please let me
know what you need me to do and when. A few hours later, I get
another email from another individual who has the same need. I
respond the same way because it is, you know, the truth. Nobody ever
emails back to give me a job or to tell me that they want to pass or
to go fuck myself or anything. It’s always the same. It’s always
two emails from two different companies or people and it’s always
disappointing. This story does have a happy ending though. I
mentioned a desire to write copy in this column so I know that I can
expect an offer tomorrow morning. When I get the offer, I am not
going to make the same mistakes that I have made in the past. The
entire industry of copywriting is based and making things seem
better than they are…of course they’re not going to hire a guy
that says, “I think I could do a great job if somebody would just
show me how things work around here.” So this time when I get the
email, I’m going to tell them that I look exactly like a young
Harrison Ford and am hung like George Washington’s monument. Oh,
and that I can also write good copy in a desirable format. Bunch of
liars…Shit.
4. Sometimes when you promise
to update weekly, your column is shit.
Wow. What a steaming pile. I’ll try to do better next time. Go
ahead and start sending the emails. I deserve it. Shit.
