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11/26/01
Being Master V...

 

One of the very best things about having someone write a guest entry for your site is that you get to say nice things about the person that don't normally come up in conversation. Like this:

Pamie is easily one of the funniest, most talented people I've ever met and if if it wasn't for her site, Squishy, which blazed more than a few trails for online journalers everywhere, there would certainly be no Terribly Happy.

Through weird coincidences and mutual circles of friends and interests (I'm convinced it has something to do with our being born a day apart), I've been Pamie's boss/editor, co-worker, stage-sharer, karaoke partner, house guest, Kenny Rogers song serenader, bitter online karaoke contest rival, e-mail shit-talker, forum dweller, gossip enabler and Coffee Bean junkie friend over the last three years. Oh, and to her, I am and always will be very gay.

Mostly, though, I'm proud to call her a colleague and a friend. Here's Pamie.

 

I'm the last one in with my account of the events, even though I do think it was my idea to have all of us record our individual sides of the story. I'm late because of the holidays, and because I'm a travelling lady lately. I'm late because I can't stop going to the movie theater to see Harry Potter. Mostly I'm late for old time's sake, because Omar's used to me getting things in just past deadline, but earlier than Way Too Late. He misses me, so.


Two masters of espionage and an unsuspecting mark.

Okay, so late October when everything was horribly sad, the only thing that made any sense was to get on the phone with Anna Beth and buy tickets to go see Allison and Chris. That sounds easy enough but searching Internet airline companies with Anna Beth on the phone ended up being a two-hour ordeal. Once we found two flights that were landing close to each other, the price changed half-way through Anna Beth's purchase. We had to start all over again. Part two of this scheme was to come up with a lie that would trick Allison into thinking that Anna Beth's husband was still coming on the trip. I have to admit I felt a little guilty about kicking Master V out of his planned vacation, but we decided the girlie weekend would be more important. That's right, we decided. Anna Beth and I know what's best for anyone. If you ever need your life planned, just give us a call.

I called Chris to let him know that we'd already decided what was to happen to him on a November weekend in a few weeks. He was happy to hear we were coming, but instantly filled with fear when I told him we were thinking about keeping my visit a surprise. "Yeah, she'd be really surprised, and I think it's a great idea, but I'm going to blow it." He turned down our first two stories for him to give Allison. Apparently the story had to be believable enough that Chris could actually trick himself into believing it was the truth, otherwise any other lie would end with the words, " but I'm lying and actually Pamie's coming to visit."

We decided on the Vince Visit lie, and that he and Anna Beth had to take two different planes because they didn't buy their tickets at the same time. Anna Beth and I were to land three hours apart. AB said they'd just take Allison somewhere and get her boozy while they waited for me to land.

When you live in Los Angeles and your friends live on the East coast, you constantly feel out of the loop. There have been several times in the past few weeks that I'd wake up and literally the country was already on fire. In this case I'd wake up to find e-mails where Chris was near the breaking point, cracking from the pressure of Allison's random questions about the Chaos' upcoming visit. We had to be vigilant, hunker down and convince Chris that this was like war. He had to stay focused and keep his eye on the prize. We would bribe and threaten him. We all worried that Chris couldn't keep quiet. I had to play the counter game.

I casually e-mailed Allison every once in a while, looking like a neglectful friend who wasn't paying enough attention to her so she didn't ever suspect that I was getting giddy at my upcoming visit. She'd tell me that Chris had been acting strange lately, and that he must be sick of her. I could tell that he was probably packing his bags to stay at a hotel until I arrived so he wouldn't ruin everything. Allison thought that Chris was distant. Chris thought that Allison was catching on because he kept running to the bathroom to laugh at how brilliant our plan was going. My visit was ruining their relationship.

I called Allison's house and sang a song into their answering machine:

Allison and Chris.
Allison and Chris.
Allison and Chris they are my friends!
They live all the way
Over in Atlan-tay
And so I called them up, over here in L.A.!

Okay, so Pamie was crazy in Los Angeles, AB was crazy in Dallas, Chris was crazy at home. Everyone looked normal again. (By the way, that song I wrote on the fly (yeah, on the fly, aren't I good?) has been in my head ever since. I should record it so I can have a number eight hit and make tons of cash and then get a drug habit and burn out so I can finally live the L.A. lifestyle I've been avoiding for the past year.)

As the day approached, I couldn't believe Allison still had no clue. I realized that Allison must already think Chris is the weirdest man in Atlanta, if him running to the bathroom to giggle didn't cause her to blink an eye. If I found my boyfriend doubled over with laughter in the bathroom and he blamed it on how funny the Far Side calendar entry was for that day? Time for a major talk. For Allison, apparently, it's just, "Chris. Y'all, he's a jag."

In fact, here's where my friend who knows Chris very well informed me: "He's going to crack. He'll crack and spill everything because she asked him to pass the salt or something. Then he'll cry and make her promise not to tell you guys that he told her everything. He's probably got a rash or something now from all the pressure. You guys are killing him, you know. I can't believe everyone doesn't know yet."

 

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