Thursday, January 05, 2006

Good Ol' What's His Name

Three times today I was talking with someone and could not for the life of me think of that person's name. The first was a Label guy who'd popped in to see the boss. I deal with this man all the time. We talk, we laugh, and every damn time I wait for someone else to call him by name because I cannot think of it. You can get away with it if you're speaking one-on-one, but then he asked me to forward an email to him. I said, "oh, sure", and then struggled to recall his name for 30 minutes until he left the offices and I asked the boss.
Next, a friend of the boss called and said, "Hey Laurie, Happy New Year. Is he in?" I put Mr. Friend on hold and told the boss, "um, someone whose voice I recognize in on the phone for you". Yep, that's me. I'm a professional.
Lastly, a man who used to work at a label, I think, or maybe at a store, maybe...I don't know, but he looked familiar and he acted like he knew me and said, "oh Hi. Haven't seen you in a while. How's it going?" so I had to stop and talk to him and pretend I knew him and cared about what's been going on in his life. I asked around. No one recognized this guy. I'm thinking he got me confused with someone else. Don't you wish you could be honest in these situations and say, "I'm sorry, who are you?" without hurting that person's feelings?

That reminds me of a story. A former roommate and minion of Satan told me an anecdote about her run-in with a certain rock star who, up until she tried to take his picture without asking, had been very friendly to her. She was a waitress at Canter's and this man was a frequent customer. Anywho, she tried to take his picture, he got pissed and the next time he came in she said, "Hey ****, How's it going?" and he looked her straight in the eye and said, "Do I know you?". This story still gives me chills because I can totally imagine this guy doing it with this look in his eyes that said "you screwed up, lady. We could've been friends." And I kind of wish I had that kind of nerve and that kind of clout, because only the truly famous and/or incredibly good looking can get away with that level of coldness.

And that reminds me of a conversation I was having once with Jill Mrakovcich, yes, I'm naming names, on our way back from a school choir concert. I was trying to describe the feeling of hitting the highest note in the Hallelujah chorus from The Messiah at the Stabler Arena where bands like Soundgarden have played (it's a choir thing) and the beyotch looked at me and said, "I think I'd understand it better if you just shut up". Now, let me tell you, Jill was not famous or incredibly good looking, but she got away with it because I was too stunned to fight back. I mean, seriously. That is just cold. I can handle a lot of insults, but someone says "Shut up" and I'm defenseless as a newt. Oh, now I'm mad. If any of the other Mraks are reading, like they would be, y'all are cool, but not Jill.

(this post has no meaning, just words and a tune--paraphased from Elton John)

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