Is this a joke? Is he for real? It’s impossible to tell. Here’s a sample:
It was a beautiful night last Spring, I was on my way to a film premiere party with a woman, and I looked great. We didn’t go to the film screening, just the after party at the W Hotel in Westwood. It’s hard for me to sit through an entire movie without going crazy.
My girl wore a classy, blue dress. She is smart, pretty, and girlfriend material. Too bad I’m not a girlfriend guy. We’ll call her Blue Dress.
We stroll into the W Hotel. I get more stares than my girl, which feels great.
There is an immediate problem, I see a woman that is hotter than the girl I’m with. We’ll refer to the hotter girl by the style of dress she wears; Cheetah Print.
I have to get rid of Blue Dress. I tell her I feel bad for forcing her to stay at this boring party. her that I have to stay for work, but that she should salvage the night and go have fun with her girlfriends, then we’ll meet up later. She tells me how sweet and selfless I am for suggesting it. Blue Dress scampers off.
It goes on.
You might think the blog is a big joke, but then, you’ve probably never worked for an agent. I swear, this could be my old boss.
Today’s hyper-post-modernism has strained the thin line dividing parody and reality to the breaking point, opening into a yawning abyss, from which streams madness and Strongbad emails.