(NOTE: I just wrote this blog post and I haven't reread the whole thing, so excuse the many typos that I'm sure the entry contains, and also, as I was skimming, I noticed that I go in and out of present and past tense several times and I think it's sloppy, but I'm not in the mood to fix it and make it less sloppy right now.) (Jesus, Erik.) (This was supposed to be a really short blog entry and then it got really long and then it threatened to get even longer and then I stopped myself and now I'm adding this random "note" at the beginning of the entry.) (I'm going to stop this random not right now.) (Except I was to say that I didn't have lunch today.) (And I'm really hungry right now.) (I am about to have the most massive dinner to make up for the fact that I didn't have lunch.) (My stomach is SO EXCITED.) (End NOTE.)
(Okay, I published this note and then I had to make ANOTHER note because, um, "I'm going to stop this random not right now" is making me laugh because obviously I meant to say "I'm going to stop this random note right now," but the Freudian slip is funny.) (And also, I have no idea what I meant to say when I typed "Except I was to say that I didn't have lunch today." Obviously there are missing words in that sentence, but I can't figure out what they are. I mean, it feels like it should say "except I was about to say..." but that doesn't sound right to me.) (But whatever.) (Enough of this.) (End NOTE now.)
So I’ve been doing lots of writing off-blog, not much writing on-blog, and the blogging is going to be light the next few days as well. My apologies.
But real quick, New Thing #94: I came clean to my mom and step-dad about my credit card debt. Here’s the deal:
I dug myself into a big credit card hole (I don’t want to say what the figure is, but let’s say it’s smaller than a house and it’s bigger than a breadbox) and I’ve been trying to dig myself out of it, and I’ve actually been making some progress (I have a plan!) (It's slow but steady!) (vs. my old plan, which was to just ignore the credit card bills and hope that they would just go away) (which they didn't) (so finally i was like, "let's try plan b") (which is the one i'm working on now) but I’ve been keeping the credit card debt a secret from the folks (because I was certain they would be all parenty and judgmental), until the other night when I was talking to them and I was finally, like, “fuck it.” And I told them how much debt I have and that I’m working on it, and instead of them being all parenty and judgmental like I expected them to be, they actually trusted that I’m on top of it and we actually laughed about it. Which was refreshing.
I guess I am an adult, after all.
Oh my god, though, speaking of people who are NOT adults, I was subbing for this English class today and there was these two Goth girls in one of my classes, and I love Goth girls, so I tried to, like, bond with them, but they were SO not into me, which was SO goth of them, and then at the end of class, one of the Goth girls started to cry for no apparent reason and she ran out of class just as the bell was ringing and then the other Goth girl stayed behind and decided to try to freak me out, which she failed miserably at, but I give her points for trying.
Let me set the scene.
Kelly, the crying Goth girl, has just run out, and all of the other students have filed out of the room as well, and I'm collecting some loose papers left behind on desks and I notice that Kathleen, the other Goth girl, is still in the room and she's staring at me.
"Can I help you?" I ask.
Kathleen doesn't answer. She continues to stare at me.
"Is Kelly okay? Do you know why she was crying?" Again, no response from Kathleen.
"Are you okay?"
Again, no response. Okay, whatever. You're playing some sort of game and I'm not gonna play along, I think to myself.
I continue to pick up loose papers.
Kathleen walks up to me and pokes my shoulder, then slowly walks away.
"Do you need anything?"
And then she turns to me and starts flicking her tongue at me and does a really bad impersonation of Hannibal Lector: "I'm going to eat your liver with fava beans!"
"Nice," I say.
She starts laughing and then, in a totally normal voice, says: "Just kidding."
"Cool," I say.
And then she tries to impersonate Hannibal Lector again, but this time her impersonation is even worse, as she says: "Or am I?????"
I'm done collecting papers. I'm ready to go. I'm tired of the Hannibal Lector act.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow," I say.
And then she runs out of the room cackling.
Kids can be so weird. I think maybe it was some sort of awkward I-don't-know-how-to-flirt-so-I'll-impersonate-Hannibal-Lector type of pubescent Goth thing.
Which reminds me of one of the worst dates I've ever been on. It was with this guy who I'd met online. We'd spoken on the phone a few times, but this was the first time we had met in person. For some stupid reason we decided to go see a movie (instead of, like, getting coffee or drinks) and I agreed to pick him up (instead of meeting him somewhere) (which is, like, the #1 rule of internet dating) (and I certainly learned my lesson on this date).
He seemed totally normal when I picked him up and our conversation was perfectly normal as we headed to the movie theater and he seemed completely normal while we waited for the movie to start, but then, as we were watching the previews, they showed a preview for a movie about a serial killer and he leaned in and whispered to me: "The password to my email account is Hannibal Lector."
Okay, there are so many things wrong with whispering that to someone when you're on a first date with them.
First of all, THE FUCKING PASSWORD TO YOUR FUCKING EMAIL ACCOUNT IS FUCKING HANNIBAL LECTOR???? How weird and freaky is that????
Second of all, WHY ARE YOU TELLING MY THE PASSWORD TO YOUR EMAIL ACCOUNT??? That's weird and freaky too!
And third, THE FUCKING PASSWORD TO YOUR FUCKING EMAIL ACCOUNT IS FUCKING HANNIBAL LECTOR???? You would only have Hannibal fucking Lector as the fucking password to your fucking email account if you're a fucking PSYCHO.
Which, obviously, this guy was.
I mean, WHY ELSE WOULD HE WHISPER THAT TO ME RIGHT BEFORE THE MOVIE IF HE WASN'T A FUCKING PSYCHO.
I'm sorry I can't stop shouting (with the ALL CAPS), but the memory is still vivid (even though this was, like, four years ago).
I spent the entire movie worried that my date was going to kill me. I don't even remember what movie we saw. NONE OF IT registered. I was literally afraid for my life the entire time we were watching the movie. As soon as it was over, I was ready to ditch this weird freak.
But I still had to drive him home.
So we get in my car, and he seems nice and normal again, though I'm sure that I'm acting really unusual because I totally don't trust him and I'm now afraid that he's a freaky serial killer and I'm literally sweating from fear.
Now, the movie we see is in Hollywood and he lives in North Hollywood and the quickest route back to his house is through Laurel Canyon, so we're driving, and I'm trying to make innocuous conversation about the movie, and then we start talking about movies in general, and I mention that my favorite movie is Tootsie, and then he says: "My favorite movie is Silence of the Lambs."
And then I'm, like: "Interesting. Yeah, movies are cool. So what kind of sports do you like?"
And then he starts imitating Hannibal Lector. And unlike Kathleen the Goth, this dude's imitation of Hannibal Lector is spot on. But he's not just imitating Hannibal Lector--he starts imitating Clarice (Jodie Foster's character) too. He starts performing an entire Hannibal/Clarice scene--playing both of the parts.
He's all, "Oh, Clarice, your problem is you need to get more fun out of life." And then he switches into a "Clarice voice" and says: "You were telling me the truth back in Baltimore, sir. Please continue now." And then back to Hannibal: "I've read the case files. Have you? Everything you need to find him is there in those pages."
And I'm trying not to show my fear because I definitely think he's a crazy lunatic now, so I'm like, "wow, that's really great! You know the lines!"
And he ignores me. He contines, as Clarice: "Then tell me how." And then, as Hannibal: "First principles, Clarice. Simplicity. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing, ask what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?" And then, as Clarice: "He kills women."
And I'm trying to be encouraging but firm: "I don't need to hear any more. I believe that you know the dialogue."
But he keeps going: "No. That is incidental. What is the first thing he does? What needs does he serve by killing? Anger. Social acceptance."
"Wow, you REALLY know the dialogue. You are REALLY good at that."
Clarice answers: "Sexual frustrations." And then Hannibal snaps: "No. He covets. That is his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice?"
"Did you ever perform this in an acting class or something?"
"Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer now."
"Look at the moon!"
But Hannibal-dude doesn't care about the moon: "No, we begin by coveting what we see every day. Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice? And don't your eyes seek out the things you want?"
And I'm really starting to freak out now. I'm racing through Laurel Canyon, trying to get back to this crazy dude's house as quickly as humanly possible.
"All right, yes. Now please tell me how..." he continues, as Clarice, before switching back into the Hannibal voice: "No. It is your turn to tell me, Clarice. You don't have any more vacations to sell. Why did you leave that ranch?"
Okay, I was going to continue cutting and pasting the dialogue from the Silence of the Lambs scene because the dude literally did THE ENTIRE SCENE, word for word, while I was frantically driving him home, and I thought that reprinting the entire scene would be the best way to accurately convey how truly creepy this date was, but I cannot reprint any more of the scene because I'm creeping MYSELF out too much, right now, right here at my computer.
Suffice it to say, we finally got back to this guy's house, I barely even stopped long enough for him to get out of the car and shut the door closed behind him, and then I hightailed it out of there and never called Hannibal-dude ever again.
Lesson learned: When you're going on an internet date, you should ALWAYS meet at a public place (i.e. a coffeeshop or a bar) first.
Also, teenagers are weird.
And, credit card debt is bad.
(Note: the photo is of Rachel Kann as my favorite Goth, Rose, from Theatre of NOTE's production of my play Yellow Flesh/Alabaster Rose.) (Photo by Joe Foster.)