Sooo I don't think that will be a problem. Second, I miss those cats more than words can describe. That has nothing to do with this post, I just wanted to throw it out there.
The real reason you should hate me is because of this:
Remember when I randomly talked to a stranger on an airplane? Like literally, one of five times in my life because after the torture of going through airport security, I pretty much hate any and everyone for at least an hour. (And don't even get me started about having to put away my effing iPad for the first twenty minutes of a flight, even though 99.9% of the time it is still turned on in my bag and has never once been an issue.)
Where was I? Oh right. That one time I talked to a guy, I found out he had a pretty sweet gig at the company that produced Coachella. Sometimes I can barely remember my own name, but you can be sure as hell I made a mental note of that.
A few months later, the Coachella lineup came out, which coincided with Spiros' NYC trip. "It looks so awesome! I've never been! We should go!" Then of course two seconds later, the passes were sold out.
I sent a Hail Mary email to my plane friend. "Any way I could get two-face value tickets? I'll pay for them." I begged.
"Sure," he was kind of enough to say. "I'll put you on the list. Contact my assistant in early April." So I did, and then I received the most unexpected thing in the world happened.
Two, FREE VIP wristbands showed up at my door.
Hate me. I deserve it. Even Jesus would be jealous.
(I assume this braggy post will be one they cite when they lead me down the fiery broken escalator to hell.)
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