So last night I was drinking with some buddies in the E.Vill/ Dumbo and I ran into this chick named Lecy. She said I would write about my night in my blog the next day (today), and that when I did, it would be f*@kin boring.
Boring?! That's bulls**t! I asked her if she read my sweet last entry, and she said, "Yeah, it was f*@kin boring."
So I tried to rise above her hag-like bitterness by handing her a postcard for one of my upcoming acting showcases, which will be held at Cy Hackman's rehearsal studio in midtown, but she didn't take it. Dis!
Then she said I was like every other flaccid hipster guy in New York.
Me: How do you know, Lecy?
Lecy: Because I know all of you, and unfortunately, have dated too many of you.
Me: You don't even know me!
Lecy: O yes I do.
Then she told me that I should quit acting--my life's passion!
Me: How dare you say that I should quit acting--my life's passion! You're such a bitch. And a pessimist to boot!
Lecy: Because all this town needs is another narcissistic aspiring actor/ improver/ showcase-and-student-film performer, with a website, who graduated from NYU in '88, gets trendy haircuts and wears designer jeans and pumas, hates sports, plays mediocre guitar, has his ipod in his messenger bag, chases idiotic college girls to appease his respective inferiority and mother complexes, reads Time Out, drinks beer on the LES every night with the same three guys who also happen to be his roommates, and writes all about it in his f*@king boring blog. Yawn!
Me: I do not read Time Out! And I don't know where you were in high school, Lecy--probably working on that dumb TV show you were on.
But evidently you missed your 4-H classes, where you were supposed to learn cooking and sewing, and moreover, how to sit in the back of the class and shut your yap like a nice feminine girl should.
You know, your personality really gets in your way...
Lecy: Yeah, Joe. That's why you hit on me every time I see you.
Me: That's bulls**t! God, I'm just being friendly! Suck my d#@k!
Lecy: I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole with a rubber glove on the end of it that's been covered in hand sanitizer.
Me: Yeah right! You wish you could f*@k me! I'm the m.f.in man.
Lecy: Funny. In all my years in New York, I've never heard a flaccid hipster say that. Can't wait to read more about how great you are tomorrow in your boring f*@king blog.
Oh yeah? Well, FYI, I'm going to be the richest, most famous actor in the world. Much richer and more famous than your "Roseanne" ass!
And not only am I special, I'm the coolest and best looking guy in New York City! There's no one better than me. I'm the m.f.in man.