Jesus, this week was extra-crazy. I’m back to my normal self today. Was traveling yesterday and sat next to this guy who decided to tell me all about his recent rehab stint and how he’s a history professor at NYU. Right. Then he mentioned his brother works at W+K and wants to move out here, so I gave him my card because I’m still desperate for people. Instead of an email from the brother, I get this:
Then, on Valentine’s Day, I get this psycho one-liner:
His brother better not fucking call me. I will reach through the phone and beat the hell out of him.
Agency Tart 
Nothing says future husband like “recent rehab stint.”
Hi.
Wow.
Found your blog.
You’re as funny as you are fit and fine.
Glad you got my notes. I can tell you’re joking about my brother. Actualy, I was joking too. I don’t have a brother. I only said that to get your card.
Anyway, I was reading around here and I see you like to drink. I do too. That whole rehab thing is for pussies. I did it, but they didn’t teach me anything I didn’t know. It was more or less just an excuse for a vacation, and with NYU footing the bill, I said “Why not?” I can handle my drink and drugs.
So, how about we get together for a PARTAY?
Do you have a MySpace or a Facebook? Nevermind – I’ll find it! 😉
Hey (you).
That email was marked ‘Personal and Confidential’.
Still, knowing you took the time to post it on your blog makes me feel like we have a real connection.
Come see me some time during office hours.