Thursday, April 11, 2002
One more hour until Rita and I get to go home and play on the roof. YAYAYAYAYAY! Having the roof makes the world such a better place.
So about an hour ago...I answer the phone and this is the conversation that happens:
Me: Shalom Hillel.
Mysterious Voice: Yeah...um...I need to speak to As*a Vai**m*n. (I hide her identity to protect her from harm)
Me: I can't give you her phone number, but I can transfer you to her extension.
MV: Thanks.
I transfer him and about 4 minutes later the phone rings again...
Me: Shalom Hillel
Mysterious Voice: Hi. You just transferred me to an extension that is not for As*a Vasi**m*n.
Me: Oh. I transferred you to the number on my contact sheet. I don't know why it didn't work.
MV: Why don't you give me the number and I will call her myself.
Me: Maybe I should ask who is calling.
MV: This is Brian Dennehey.
Me: (BRIAN FUCKING DENNEHEY???? UM!!!)
Brian: (waiting patiently)
Me: Ok...I will give you the number and hold for a minute and I will see if I have a second number.
B: Sure.
(I rifle through the Columbia Database trying to find this girl's number)(It takes me forever, but I locate it)
Me: Hi Brian. The number is: shumma shum shum, shumma shum shum.
B: Thanks. Have a great day.
Me: You too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (my heart is all a flutter at this point)
-----end scene-----
I mean...I have lived in NYC for over a year now and the only famous thing I have seen is the back of Natalie Portman's head. But today I spoke with THE Brian Dennehey. Oh man. Ask Penelope...I was so nervous and really tried to rush off the phone as quick as possible. I don't know what to do in the presence of royalty. He's fucking Willy Lowman from Death of a Salesman for God's sakes.
Today has flown by. I am ready to bust out of here. I got a lot of work done today, a lot of play done today, and I had a fucking awesome lunch. Grilled Cz and fries at Tom's Restaurant. You know Tom's right? The outside is the home of the Seinfeld diner.
Rita had split pea soup and a bagel. I tried her soup, convinced that I would hate it and I loved it! (The bagel looked pretty exceptional as well)
I figure...if I like lentil soup, I must like split pea, huh?
Okay...I am so going now. If I reduce these entries to the food consumed by me every day, someone smack me in the mouth and call me a fag.
So about an hour ago...I answer the phone and this is the conversation that happens:
Me: Shalom Hillel.
Mysterious Voice: Yeah...um...I need to speak to As*a Vai**m*n. (I hide her identity to protect her from harm)
Me: I can't give you her phone number, but I can transfer you to her extension.
MV: Thanks.
I transfer him and about 4 minutes later the phone rings again...
Me: Shalom Hillel
Mysterious Voice: Hi. You just transferred me to an extension that is not for As*a Vasi**m*n.
Me: Oh. I transferred you to the number on my contact sheet. I don't know why it didn't work.
MV: Why don't you give me the number and I will call her myself.
Me: Maybe I should ask who is calling.
MV: This is Brian Dennehey.
Me: (BRIAN FUCKING DENNEHEY???? UM!!!)
Brian: (waiting patiently)
Me: Ok...I will give you the number and hold for a minute and I will see if I have a second number.
B: Sure.
(I rifle through the Columbia Database trying to find this girl's number)(It takes me forever, but I locate it)
Me: Hi Brian. The number is: shumma shum shum, shumma shum shum.
B: Thanks. Have a great day.
Me: You too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (my heart is all a flutter at this point)
-----end scene-----
I mean...I have lived in NYC for over a year now and the only famous thing I have seen is the back of Natalie Portman's head. But today I spoke with THE Brian Dennehey. Oh man. Ask Penelope...I was so nervous and really tried to rush off the phone as quick as possible. I don't know what to do in the presence of royalty. He's fucking Willy Lowman from Death of a Salesman for God's sakes.
Today has flown by. I am ready to bust out of here. I got a lot of work done today, a lot of play done today, and I had a fucking awesome lunch. Grilled Cz and fries at Tom's Restaurant. You know Tom's right? The outside is the home of the Seinfeld diner.
Rita had split pea soup and a bagel. I tried her soup, convinced that I would hate it and I loved it! (The bagel looked pretty exceptional as well)
I figure...if I like lentil soup, I must like split pea, huh?
Okay...I am so going now. If I reduce these entries to the food consumed by me every day, someone smack me in the mouth and call me a fag.
