I Could Be ‘That Guy’
September 25th, 2005
I could be that guy.
Having just arrived into Los Angeles with aspirations of being a bigtime actor, but having no experience whatsoever, I would go down to my local Kinko’s and have my new business cards printed up immediately. They would be a black laminate kind of slick looking card with my name in big fancy white fonted letters. Underneath my name in smaller but just as cool fonted white shadowed letters would be the word “ACTOR.” And on the back of the awesome black laminate business card I would have them put an ancient Chinese symbol that would mean “courage.”
Yes, I could totally be that guy.
I could also be that guy who knows each and every free happy hour buffet in and around the city at any given time. I’d know what they were serving on Monday (steak quesadillas, potato skins, california rolls and swedish meatballs) and the requirements as well (one drink minimum). I would have an Excel spreadsheet listing out the advantages and disadvantages of such places, and have regular debates about how one particular restaurant goes all out on Tuesdays (their chef prepares steak tartar and tuna sashimi on cool little melba toast crackers) while the buffet at the local strip club only has liver wrapped in bacon and that’s only after you spring for a lap dance.
But still, I could seriously be that guy.
Having no concept of the second number of two while shopping for jeans (32 x 38), I would most likely buy pants that were way too long for my legs, and having no concept of fashion or anything embodying the word, I would put on my jeans and roll up the cuffs like I was living in 1985. I would proudly walk around on a daily basis with said cuffs rolled up so high that half my leg looked like “cuff” and despite people saying things like “There a flood coming, buddy?”, I wouldn’t have any concept about the backhanded comments due to the fact that, well, there have been floods recently and that I am also that guy.
Yes. I could totally be him.
If I really tried hard, I could probably be that guy who misinterprets the signs from women. When a woman would say “Hey, can I borrow some three-hold paper for the fax machine?” I would hear “Hey, can I borrow you for three hours tonight in my bedroom?”. When a girl brushed up against me accidentally on the escalator, I would reach back into my memory and remember the time someone said, “if a girl likes you, she’ll touch your arm or something” and I’d get ready for my next big relationship with the elevator-bumping girl. If you told me, screaming from your front porch, while on the phone with 911 that you were getting a restraining order against me if I didn’t stop playing Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” at 2 AM in the morning… I would assume, that once again, you were playing hard to get and double my efforts.
Yes, that would be me. That guy.
If I was that guy I would forget to put deodorant on and walk around oblivious. I would carry huge piles of dimes in my pockets for some unknown, unexplainable reason. I would bring extra bologna sandwiches to work in the event any of my co-workers might want one, would whistle more often than not simply because it’s the only talent I have, talk about my love of Barbra Streisand without realizing what that says about my supposedly-heterosexual background, use weight machines at the gym in the most laughably incorrect way, leave cookie crumbs on the corners of my mouth for hours on end, talk about ex-girlfriends from foreign countries that never existed, carry around any kind of magazine rolled up in my back pocket, keep a pen that I never use behind my left ear, run for the elevator for no reason, wear shoes that make never-ending annoying squeaking sounds, lament constantly about the fact that I have still yet to receive a response from the fan letter I wrote to the Leif Garrett fan club and, you know, a bunch of other potentially strange and annoying things.
Me. That guy. One in the same?
I could be. But I don’t choose to be.
And isn’t that, really all that matters?
—
In other news, today marks the official “I am officially and completely done editing the manuscript of The Lost Blogs.” Now, the really fun stuff. If you’d like the 411 throughout the process, go ahead and subscribe to the Lost BLogs E-Mail list for updates.
LOL. This totally reminds me of a guy I visited with earlier this month who pulled $10 worth of change out of his pants to pay for items at a convenience store! I just about died of embarassment from the look on the cashier’s face. The circumstance were understandable, but I still couldn’t help it. Going down your list I think I know at least one guy those, ummm, attributes. Except the guy who plays “In Your Eyes” at 2 in the morning. Since I love that song I’d be able to stand him for a week. By week number two I’d be that person on the phone screaming about a restraining order.
Great entry as always. And congrats on finishing the editing for your manuscript!
Comment by groovebunny — September 25, 2005 @ 10:27 am
But…but…what if escalator-girl really does love you?
And yes, what matters is definitely that you choose not to be any of the “that guy”s. Congrats on that excellent choice. And, of course, on the book!
Comment by annabel lee — September 25, 2005 @ 10:35 am
Wait ONE second, here.
So if a girl bumps into you on the escalator, it DOES mean she loves me? I mean, them? Uh, I mean, that GUY?
Comment by Pauly D — September 25, 2005 @ 10:39 am
I’m glad you’re not THAT guy. Cuz “I don’t want no scrub!”
Congrats on finishing the edit on the manuscript. What a coup! You must celebrate. how are you going to celebrate?
Comment by C(h)ristine — September 25, 2005 @ 11:52 am
shit. i totally bumped into a guy the other day in an elevator thinking it was a clever ruse to get him to ask me out. does that mean i am “that girl”? or does it not translate across gender lines?
i think i am having a panic attack.
but seriously, pauly, congrats on the book news. you should totally eat some cauliflower to celebrate. wooo hooo!
Comment by ms. sizzle — September 25, 2005 @ 12:09 pm
C(h) - How am I going to celebrate? Um. Well, besides eating a whole box of Pop Tarts without toasting them? Well, I may take a shower or something.
Ms. Sizzle - Bite your tongue, and your cauliflower, cause I ain’t gonna!
Comment by Pauly D — September 25, 2005 @ 12:12 pm
All right - so you’re the guy who stole my jeans from the dryer in the Laundrette. So, what’’s wrong with my card, which you obviously found in the pocket? I thought that symbol was Chinese for “Hot Stuff.”
Hey, congrats on finishing your revisions. Wish I were at that point. But it’s right up there on my Google toolbar “To Do” list - right after “clean up side table” and “scrub toilet.”
Cheers
Comment by anon — September 25, 2005 @ 12:35 pm
woo! pop tarts sans toasting! livin’ on the EDGE!
do you have writing rituals too? are you one of those “i must be clean and showered to write” or are you one of those “i will sit in the same clothes for 3 straight days and not shower while i write.”
i must confess, i tend to look (and become) really gnarly when i’m on a writing jag. (is she on a drug bender? or is she just writing?)
Comment by C(h)ristine — September 25, 2005 @ 12:54 pm
I think it would be cheaper to go with the white card stick and black embossed script
Comment by The Moviequill — September 25, 2005 @ 2:52 pm
Are we talking a ROLL of dimes in your pocket?….oh wait, you said “piles of dimes”… I was moving way off track…
Comment by purpletwinkie — September 25, 2005 @ 4:29 pm
C(h) - I have ridiculous obsessive compulsive writing rituals that involve changing my location, what I have by my side in the way of food and drink, what I turn off and keep on, and so on.
But then again, I guess every writer does.
Comment by Pauly D — September 25, 2005 @ 4:54 pm
You could totally be that guy, because I am sure as heck that filling that position. (http://youngestofone.typepad.com/main/2005/01/im_never_that_g.html)
Have lots of fun with the really fun stuff!
Comment by Will — September 25, 2005 @ 7:56 pm
“Hey, can I borrow some three-hold paper for the fax machine?” I would hear “Hey, can I borrow you for three hours tonight in my bedroom?”.
HAHAHA!!
Actually *darts eyes around* maybe that IS what I meant.
Just kidding.
Comment by Snidget — September 25, 2005 @ 8:03 pm
mmmm…Lloyd Dobler from Say Anything…dreamy….
K.
Comment by Kris — September 25, 2005 @ 9:21 pm
“Hey, can I borrow some three-hold paper for the fax machine?”
Do you mean holed-paper?
Let me know if comments like this are irritating.
Comment by Pierce — September 26, 2005 @ 3:34 am
pierce, you and your comments are irritating. that’s totally my job, so step off.
Paul, congrats on the big finish. how’s the dedication page coming along?
Comment by kristine — September 26, 2005 @ 5:13 am
My 5th grade teacher, Ms. Dutcher, was Leif Garrett’s teacher too. She would mention how he always came back to visit her. Does anyone ever go back and visit their 5th grade teacher?
Ah, Leif…the original “That Guy”
Comment by Michelle — September 26, 2005 @ 8:10 am
Is ‘that guy’ somehow related to ‘this guy’? Sometimes they seem one and the same.
Comment by kingbenny — September 26, 2005 @ 11:50 am
I love to visit old teachers. Some of them hae such an impact on the way you think, that it just makes sense that you keep them in mind.
Pauly, I think you have some pent up things going on. Maybe you WANT to be those guys… Maybe a little bit at least…..
Comment by Cutiepie2 — September 26, 2005 @ 5:18 pm