What I've been up to lately.

Okay: you’re right. You saw right through me. You always see right through me, and I hate that. Sometimes I feel like other people want me to lie to them, you know? You were always a little smarter than the average bear, if not necessarily smarter than the average bear with the smarts of twelve bears. But let’s put that to the side for now. My point is, I’m sorry I haven’t called. And you’re absolutely right; my voicemail was not broken for six months. I did get your messages. Well, the first three of them anyway. At a certain point I just delete messages without listening to them. Call ID works just fine if I need to know who’s trying to get a hold of me. I’ve just been super busy and haven’t had time to call anyone back for, well, it’s been going on for a good while now. Things have been hectic. Six weeks, maybe, I’ve been working on this one thing, and otherwise I just keep to myself. Doesn’t sound like much, but trust me it’s been quite an eventful couple of weeks. I’m really sorry about this. When things settle down some, next chance I get I’ll make it up to you.

What have I been up to lately? Well now, that’s a very good question. And by good I mean hard to answer. I mean, it’s not like I could just come out and tell you what I’ve been up to lately. Actually, I guess I could tell you, but it gets complicated after that. No, I’m not blowing you off. God, let’s never fall out of touch like this again, okay? What’s it been, two months? Okay, shit. I get it. Didn’t I already say it was my fault? And I’m sorry I can’t stay here much longer. No, I really have somewhere else to be.

Nothing would make me happier than skipping off to the pub down the street right frieking now. Maybe we could catch a game on one of the plasmas, drink some Anchor Steams, eat fried things. Next chance we get we’ll go to that one you like, the one next to that coffee shop. Are you kidding me? What the hell kind of bar doesn’t have a plasma screen? It’s the 21^st century, you know. This is the future; aren’t all the TVs supposed to be made of plasma and science now? Whatever. At least we could get all caught up on what’s been going on with you. Me? Nothing. Nothing worth talking about. Let’s not get into it. I know, I know…now that I think about it, maybe the pub isn’t such a good idea.

The problem is, I could tell you what I’ve been up to lately. But then I’d have to kill you.

I know, I know, people say that shit all the time. I mean, it’s funny. Ooh, look at me I’m in the CIA or whatever. It’s one of those mom jokes that isn’t really a joke but for some reason certain people laugh every time single time they hear it. Sometimes I’ll be talking to a dude and it’s usually it’s one of those guys who don’t articulate themselves all that well and get by on whatever catchphrases and worn-out punchlines they pick up from the ambient pop culture or whatever and manage to string together. Every once in awhile I’ll get stuck in a conversation with a guy like that, and like clockwork it comes up that he thinks Adam Sandler’s movies are the funniest goddamn things in the history of the world, especially the sports ones. I’ve probably been been cornered dozens of times at parties by sweaty dudes with thick necks who feel compelled to rattle off as many lines from Adam Sandler movies as they can remember. It’s remarkable, sort of like being at the zoo when the chimpanzees start throwing their shit I guess.

I think what I'll do is, maybe I’ll have a dinner party or something pretty soon. It would be nice to see everyone. I really need to be better about that. Oh, and if one of our other friends tells you anything about what I’ve been up to lately, try not to listen and make sure you hug them tight when you part ways, because you will never see that person alive again. And I will come after you as well. My advice is that you never leave the safety of your home except under the cover of darkness, although you should be mindful that I’ll probably be lurking in some shadow, waiting for you to wander haplessly by. Also do not linger atop flights of stairs, retrieve your car from empty parking garages, eat food you did not see prepared with your own eyes, start your car without checking for mysterious wires running to your starter from under your seat, and be sure you commit to memory the nuances of my particular gait; that will make it harder for me to sneak up on you.

I’ll give you a call you this week, I think I’m free on Thursday. Promise: sorry I’ve been so flaky. But I’ve been busy, you know? Well, I guess you actually have no idea. But that’s for the best. Maybe it's only interesting to me, is the funny thing. I best be getting a move on. You know you can call me whenever, right? No, I’ll pick up the phone this time. Unless I’m busy or sleeping or something. You take it easy.