"f*#kface"

occasionally, either through some personal experience of my own or through a secondhand telling of an experience by someone known to me, i'll come across a story of an act or repeated acts of boorish behavior that are perpetrated upon underlings, strangers, service employees, or the public at large by some sort celebrity, titan of industry or both. invariably i almost always find myself grappling with whether or not i should share the story on this here blog or if i should place it in my hip pocket to save for the inevitable tell-all book, and trust me, there WILL be a tell-all book at some point in the distant future.(ed. note...speaking of tell-all books, i'm currently reading robert evans' the kid stays in the picture. i recommend it highly!)

after chewing on this one for a while and perhaps motivated a bit by reading endless tales of shiteous behavior in the book that i currently find myself reading, i've decided to share this one. it's almost as hilarious as it is revolting.

a few weeks ago i found myself at the bar of a recently opened downtown manhattan restaurant. i was there to meet a friend for a drink, to engage in a social catchup session of sorts, as we hadn't seen each other in months and much had changed in each of our lives over that span of time that each of us was unaware of about the other. when i arrived at the restaurant, my friend and i embraced and exchanged the usual "so good to see you again" pleasantries that are exchanged in such a situation.

shortly after exchanging the aforementioned pleasantries and each ordering a drink, a man unknown to me approached us.

"(cajun boy), i hope that you don't mind, but i invited my friend [redacted] to join us. i figured that you guys would get along great and have lots to talk about."

naturally, being someone never averse to meeting new people, especially people who fell into the "friend" category of this particular friend of mine who was facilitating the introduction, i had no objection to this. interestingly enough, we seemed to bond with each other. we bonded in that way that straight guys tend to bond with one another when they first meet and discover that they hold dear some of the same interests and passions and that the paths of their lives have crossed previously unbeknownst to them through mutual friends and former co-workers. as a guy you tend to find yourself in these sort of situations wanting to interject a story about a girl that you once dated just so it's known by the other guy that you're not trying to hit on him, nor or you interested in him hitting on you, because there's a certain chemistry involved in this sort of thing. i suppose that you could say that we had a minor bromance brewing, so much so that i found myself neglecting to "catch up" with the friend that i had went there to meet with in the first place because [redacted] and i were so engaged in conversation.

so there we were, the three of us, standing and talking at the bar. with the passage of time and the consumption of more alcohol, catching up conversation between my old friend and i evolved to getting to know you conversation between [redacted] and i which then evolved into sharing stories between the three of us. at some point in the conversation we began talking about movies, specifically movies that had won oscars for best original screenplay, and the subject of the movie good will hunting came up.

"tell (cajun boy) the fuckface story!" my friend requested [redacted].

[redacted] obliged and went on to tell the following tale...

when he was in college he landed an internship at miramax(the acclaimed movie studio that produced good will hunting, run by the notoriously boorish harvey weinstein) in downtown manhattan. from day one he was terrified of weinstein. he had read and heard all the stories of how he would frequently berate and belittle employees, even marquee actors and directors (ed. note...i have heard from others that there are rules at miramax about engaging weinstein in conversation or even looking him in the eye unless you are a person of a certain status.) miramax's offices were housed in multiple buildings on the same street of the downtown manhattan neighborhood called tribeca. incidentally, [redacted] worked in a building that did not house weinstein's personal office, so he had no contact with him for the first few weeks of his internship. but such good fortune was to be short lived.

one day [redacted] found himself standing outside of the miramax building that weinstein's office was in. i can't recall why [redacted] said that he was there, just standing and leaning against the wall, i think that he said that he was smoking a cigarette or something, but suddenly a big black car pulled up. first out stepped a driver to open the door, then out of the backseat stepped weinstein himself.

when he noticed who the passenger was that was exiting the car, [redacted] said that he became nervous and turned his head and eyes to the ground as weinstein approached the entrance to the building. suddenly he noticed that weinstein's steps had ceased. he looked up to find weinstein standing there just staring at him.

"who the fuck are you?"

"i work for you. i'm an intern."

"oh yeah. well what's your name?"

"my name is [redacted] sir."

"really? well guess what [redacted]? from now on i'm going to call you fuckface."

and with that, weinstein turned and walked into the building. but throughout the course of [redacted]'s remaining time interning at miramax, weinstein was true to his word.

"for the rest of the time that i was there, harvey called me fuckface. i would pass him in the hall and he'd say 'what's going on fuckface?' once i was in the elevator and he stepped on with other people and he introduced me to everyone with him as fuckface."

[redacted] went on to tell about how he was good friends with one of disney ceo michael eisner's sons, they had went to school together or something, and how when eisner's son told his father about how harvey had treated [redacted], eisner was so incensed that he wanted to find out weinstein's whereabouts so that he could immediately travel there to personally confront him over it. though the relationship between eisner and weinstein has often been contentious, [redacted] was not sure if eisner ever did get the chance to call him on it.

i suppose that the only point to be taken from this story is this: think twice the next time you think that you may have the world's fattest cock for a boss. there's likely some lowly kid out there probably being verbally sodomized by harvey weinstein on a regular basis.


i can haz big azz chipotle burritoz

this is what i had for lunch today. i swear that the thing weighed three fucking pounds. and yes, i did eat the entire thing. any of you ladies out there wanna snuggle tonight?



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