Early on Saturday morning (2:31 am to be exact) I received the following email:
I didn't see it until Saturday evening, at which point I yipped excitedly and ran around my chair a few times. I haven't yet written about Cindy Barshop but she knew that I loved her. She knew it!
Even before the Frette monogrammed bathrobe episode, I admired her for many reasons--her knee sock-boot thing, her dancing with Sonja's servant and her general handlement of Ramoner. Oh, and her hair! I can't wear bangs to save my life and there's Cindy Barshop, just walking around Manhattan with bangs that will make you want to slap your hairdresser. HARD.
See? The fact that Cindy Barshop was following me validated my entire twitter experience and to a certain point, my existence.
In the short span of time between reading this email and then heading to twitter to follow her back (that I did not already follow her was mere oversight on my part), I had planned a weekend trip to New York City in which I would throw a toaster oven through Sonja's window, get a vatoo, and stay up until the wee hours of the morning dancing wildly to drumbeats, all with Cindy. My new best friend.
But when I arrived on twitter, I discovered that she had already unfollowed me.
What did I do, Cindy? WHAT DID I DO? I go over it and over it in my head and I can't figure it out.
Was this the equivalent of a Ramoner drunken text? Was this a drunken follow? When you woke up, did you feel ashamed? I know I am a lame tweeter. I KNOW THAT, CINDY. But I am a real person with real feelings. Feelings that used to be hopefulness and excitement but are now confusion and utter despair.
You know when I said up there that I had not yet written about you? That was a lie. I wrote a poem about you after the Pecking Order episode. It is still in draft form but I have to say, it's pretty damn good. Too bad no one will ever see it...although I might be persuaded with a follow on twitter.* It's up to you.
In other news, I just saw that Vicki and Donn have not had sex for 2 years?! Not even through all of that recommittment bullshit we had to sit through??? Are you surprised?
I have to say, I am.
*And a monogrammed Frette bathrobe.