An Exotic Pre-Work Post
TO RENOUNCE OR NOT TO RENOUNCE…that is the question. Far from renouncing, I may actually be negotiating with the Renounceable One.
Nick accused me of being drunk because of my florid choice of language–as if I need an excuse to do that–and I told him I was not, in fact, drunk, but he was welcome to join me in being so sometime. (Preferably in the presence of witnesses. One or more of who would upload it to YouTube.) Conversation follows:
Him: “You know I don’t drink.”
Me: “But I would pay to see it.”
Him: “It’d cost you an eight-hour ride-along.”
…At which point we backed away from each other very slowly, each hoping the other never brought up the topic again.
See, you know you can’t trust someone whose lawyer’s mind thinks to specify “eight-hour” in his initial offer, lest I say the various rides home he’s given me would qualify. (He is my uniformed chauffeur and armed bodyguard–and worth every penny I pay him!) Of course, if you added them together, they’d add up to eight hours….
By the way, the above speculation is entirely my own and does not represent the views of the City. It would be really disturbing if it did.
Speaking of YouTube, I saw an R.E.M. performance in which Michael Stipe’s T-shirt said “Emotionally Unavailable.” I want one.