Larry Awesome’s Abridged Guide to Meeting Larry Awesome (The Dickhead Post)
9 May 2006
I got a lot of emails (read: two emails) from people who went to Steve Almond’s reading on Friday night asking why I didn’t go. Their tone was not one of concern, as in, "I know you really like Steve’s work, so why didn’t you go? I hope you are not sick or incarcerated." But rather they were vituperative, like, "Dude, I wanted to meet you. Why didn’t you go, asshole? Fuck you!"
First, I had every intention of going to the reading. However, my friend Kyle was driving up from Philly and got stuck in traffic. Instead of arriving at 6pm and heading to the 7pm reading with me, he got into the city just before 8pm. I had to wait at my apartment for him. So no reading for me.
Second, creepy, people. Very, very creepy.
Since this comes up quiet a lot over email (this is where the "dickhead" part comes in), it’s time to address the JasonMulgrew.com official policy on meeting people who read this site.
If I do not know you or am not connected to you in some way, I can not meet and/or hang out with you.
Full disclosure before I continue: I think something is becoming seriously wrong with me. I may have to get back on anti-depressants because I am pretty sure I’m finally starting to lose my shit. It’s one thing to enjoy wine and long showers. It’s another thing to drink a bottle of white wine while laying the tub naked (but with the water draining and the showerhead pointing only at your feet) for almost two hours, while your roommate bangs on the door saying that he has to piss and you scream back, "Just come in! It’s not a big deal!" and have another swig of your moderately-priced chardonnay. So there’s that.
So when I got the emails coming down on me for not going to the reading, it freaked me out a little bit. I’m not trying to sound like some shut-in or attention-phobe (you know, since I started calling myself an "Internet Quasi-Celebrity" when about 25 people read this site), but um, no. Not cool.
So while I appreciate the offers and yada yada yada, the whole prospect of meeting anyone who reads the site who doesn’t already know me makes me uncomfortable. There is precedent for this; I have meet some people in the past who read the site. And not to slander them, as they were all lovely people (except the one girl who made me drag all of my friends to a bar across town after promising them "Lots of hot girls" only for her to stand me up, much to the delight of my friends), but I learned pretty quickly pretty early that me meeting anyone from this site is not a good idea for anyone involved. So thank you again, but I can’t meet you for a drink. I can’t even grab a cup of coffee (I don’t drink coffee anyway). And I especially can’t fly you and your friends up from Florida because you’ve promised to have a threesome with me or at least "do stuff to each other in front of [me]."
I fully realize and accept that I may regret making official this position. I’m sure that as soon as I publish this post, I’m going to get an email from some knockout Czech girl who reads this site and is visiting the US for the first time and wants someone to show her around NYC and have sex with her and her lovely 18 year old boobies. Know that if this happens, I will completely meet this girl. Like, in a heartbeat. While this is an official policy, it is not a strict rule and is open to interpretation. It certainly does not mean that I will never met someone who reads this site, even though that’s kinda what it says. For example, we’re contemplating opening up the "Drink Until You Shit" Tour to everyone, but it’s in North Wildwood, NJ, so I don’t think that anyone who doesn’t already know me would show up for that.
Besides, I’m used to regretting things I write on here. For example, this post has haunted my dreams and sexual fantasies since I put it up. In it, I said that I can’t marry a woman who smokes, won’t take my last name, has fooled around with my friends, or has small boobs. Good lord, I was idealistic. Many girls, over email or in real life, have pointed out that I couldn’t marry them because they had one of those four characteristics. Most of the time, I would have pulled out every last hair on my head to sleep with these girls. In my defense, that was written a long time ago. Now, my only qualifier for a wife is, "Please not have fucked my dad. I would prefer that you didn’t sleep with my brother either, but if you did, we can get around that."
So while I’m sure that I sound like a total douche, I’m also fairly sure that I don’t care. And if you really want to stalk me, there’s a much easier way to do so. Every Saturday and Sunday, I have eggs benedict at the LoSide Diner sometime between 1pm and 3pm. If I’m in NYC, I’m there (though I won’t be in NYC for another six weekends). So stalkers, come on down. I have no problem with you meeting me there – as long as you pay for the eggs benedict.
(Fucking dynamite eggs benedict.)
First, I had every intention of going to the reading. However, my friend Kyle was driving up from Philly and got stuck in traffic. Instead of arriving at 6pm and heading to the 7pm reading with me, he got into the city just before 8pm. I had to wait at my apartment for him. So no reading for me.
Second, creepy, people. Very, very creepy.
Since this comes up quiet a lot over email (this is where the "dickhead" part comes in), it’s time to address the JasonMulgrew.com official policy on meeting people who read this site.
If I do not know you or am not connected to you in some way, I can not meet and/or hang out with you.
Full disclosure before I continue: I think something is becoming seriously wrong with me. I may have to get back on anti-depressants because I am pretty sure I’m finally starting to lose my shit. It’s one thing to enjoy wine and long showers. It’s another thing to drink a bottle of white wine while laying the tub naked (but with the water draining and the showerhead pointing only at your feet) for almost two hours, while your roommate bangs on the door saying that he has to piss and you scream back, "Just come in! It’s not a big deal!" and have another swig of your moderately-priced chardonnay. So there’s that.
So when I got the emails coming down on me for not going to the reading, it freaked me out a little bit. I’m not trying to sound like some shut-in or attention-phobe (you know, since I started calling myself an "Internet Quasi-Celebrity" when about 25 people read this site), but um, no. Not cool.
So while I appreciate the offers and yada yada yada, the whole prospect of meeting anyone who reads the site who doesn’t already know me makes me uncomfortable. There is precedent for this; I have meet some people in the past who read the site. And not to slander them, as they were all lovely people (except the one girl who made me drag all of my friends to a bar across town after promising them "Lots of hot girls" only for her to stand me up, much to the delight of my friends), but I learned pretty quickly pretty early that me meeting anyone from this site is not a good idea for anyone involved. So thank you again, but I can’t meet you for a drink. I can’t even grab a cup of coffee (I don’t drink coffee anyway). And I especially can’t fly you and your friends up from Florida because you’ve promised to have a threesome with me or at least "do stuff to each other in front of [me]."
I fully realize and accept that I may regret making official this position. I’m sure that as soon as I publish this post, I’m going to get an email from some knockout Czech girl who reads this site and is visiting the US for the first time and wants someone to show her around NYC and have sex with her and her lovely 18 year old boobies. Know that if this happens, I will completely meet this girl. Like, in a heartbeat. While this is an official policy, it is not a strict rule and is open to interpretation. It certainly does not mean that I will never met someone who reads this site, even though that’s kinda what it says. For example, we’re contemplating opening up the "Drink Until You Shit" Tour to everyone, but it’s in North Wildwood, NJ, so I don’t think that anyone who doesn’t already know me would show up for that.
Besides, I’m used to regretting things I write on here. For example, this post has haunted my dreams and sexual fantasies since I put it up. In it, I said that I can’t marry a woman who smokes, won’t take my last name, has fooled around with my friends, or has small boobs. Good lord, I was idealistic. Many girls, over email or in real life, have pointed out that I couldn’t marry them because they had one of those four characteristics. Most of the time, I would have pulled out every last hair on my head to sleep with these girls. In my defense, that was written a long time ago. Now, my only qualifier for a wife is, "Please not have fucked my dad. I would prefer that you didn’t sleep with my brother either, but if you did, we can get around that."
So while I’m sure that I sound like a total douche, I’m also fairly sure that I don’t care. And if you really want to stalk me, there’s a much easier way to do so. Every Saturday and Sunday, I have eggs benedict at the LoSide Diner sometime between 1pm and 3pm. If I’m in NYC, I’m there (though I won’t be in NYC for another six weekends). So stalkers, come on down. I have no problem with you meeting me there – as long as you pay for the eggs benedict.
(Fucking dynamite eggs benedict.)
