The Only Thing I'm Sort Of Good At, Is Referrals

We all know about the dangers of alcohol, but when they show you those movies and afterschool specials where a few beers destroy entire families (anyone remember The Last Prom?), you never see the subtleties, the minor issues that can blow up when a touch of alcohol boosts the emotional potency of a given situation. It may not destroy a life, but it can make tough to live with it.

Take Marshall here. Marshall is single and lonely, like many of my subjects are. "I'm out with some friends and I meet this girl," he said. "Friend of a friend. We seem to be hitting it off, but then she starts talking about this other girl, talking her up like she wants to set me up with her. I don't like blind set-ups, so I'm waiting for her to finish so I can politely talk my way out of it, and she finishes with, 'and she just moved here and she's looking to meet someone and you seem like a nice guy who's fun and into a lot of interesting things, so, do you know anyone who might be interested?'"

"Seriously? Maybe that was her way of implying that person was you."

"No, you should have seen the sincerity in her face. And I was just dumbfounded, so she breaks the silence with, 'I mean, can you think of anyone?' And I just didn't know how to respond, and she says, 'I'm sorry, are you insulted?' And I said, 'Little bit, yeah.' And she genuinely had no idea why. I mean, it was one of the most humiliating moments of my entire life and she just has no clue why I might find that degrading. So I just say, 'Well how do you know I wouldn't want to meet her?'"

"What did she say?" I asked.

"Well, during the whole pitch she did mention that the girl was Asian, and she just assumed I wouldn't be interested in dating an Asian girl. She said she didn't know if I was open-minded like that."

"Well, there's your answer, dude. She didn't mean anything by it, she wasn't implying you were unworthy or anything, she just didn't know."

"Well, I guess I can see that now." he said. "At the time it didn't seem like the strongest explanation. I was just so mortified."

"So what happened with her?" I asked.

"The conversation pretty much ended there. After that whole thing it was like, I felt so small I couldn't even talk to her. I think maybe I overreacted. I can get emotional when I drink."

How do you tell someone to prepare for something like this in the future? There's pretty much no way, except to tell them not to drink. I doubt this incident is going to make Marshall give up alcohol, but what do you say? Give them a card that says, "Your judgement is impaired, this situation may not be what you think it is," and say, "Read this when you're drunk and upset?" Doubt that works. All I can do is give a reassuring, "Doesn't matter. You're obviously meeting people. You'll meet others."

Will he? I don't know. It's not my job to know. It's my job to convince him he will, because if he doesn't think it, he probably won't. Holy fuck, dating. Glad that's over.

Drop That Lobster Roll And Pass Me A Bagel!

Went to another Yankee game with Sashial yesterday. Thus was a big one, cause it was against Boston. She felt the raised excitement and tension level, and so I had to explain the history of the rivalry. "So it gets pretty heated?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I said. " depends on the person. This one girl from Boston I know, after they Yanks won the series one year, she congratulated me. Then this other one, really nice girl, very cool, but when I told her I liked the city of Boston, she wouldn't believe me. She said I couldn't because I'm a Yankee fan."

"What's one thing got to do with another?"

"That's what I asked. She said the city and the team are connected. I was like, 'Well I was there and I felt joy, I don't know what to tell you.' Then I told this to another girl from Boston, and she said she didn't buy that, because she's a Boston fan and she likes new York City. So I told the first girl this and she said it's not the same because Boston's smaller."

Sashial looked confused and annoyed. "Smaller? Are you fucking kidding me? Like the team is a bigger part of the city because there's less of it?"

"I guess."

"What bullshit. You realize what she's actually saying, right? She's saying she forbids you to like Boston, because as a Yankee fan she feels you're unworthy of liking her fucking town. Is this someone you worked with?"

"Yeah."

"So she worked in New York city. Did she live here too?"

"Yep. Still does as far as I know."

"So she owes her fucking home and livelihood to your city. Basically, she's allowed to like your city but you're not allowed to like hers. That's pretty fucking convenient for her. You know, some people might tell her how hypocritical that is, and say, "Doesn't work that way, this isn't a one way street. If this is the way you feel about teams and geography you should be true to yourself and get the fuck out of my city."

I smirked as I shook my head. "I'm too nice to say something like that."

"I know you are, baby."

"How do you help someone like that?" I asked.

"Same as you do everyone else. It's not you job to help her fucking grow up. Just to be there if she needs you."

My Maid's On Vacation, Don't Step On The Needles

Marley's ability isn't quite as omniscient as telekinesis but sometimes it might as well be. This guy I'm working on, his depression over his breakup is getting pretty bad (he was with the girl for five years, after all). He was putting on a pretty brave face while he was at work, although he's not as upbeat as I understand he used to be, and he couldn't help sounding down on monday when people asked him how his weekend was. He tried to be lighthearted about it, often answering the question with, "Well, Cathy and I were going to see Inception but we broke up instead." As an angel, you see this a lot; the subject makes sure he doesn't become a downer to his friends, but his pain always comes through nonetheless. It's rough, you do your best to keep from alienating people, and at the same time you isolate yourself. Makes recovery tough.

Basic procedure is to observe the subject at home and look for signs of the true severity when their barriers are down. Sometimes it's really hard because they're not interacting with anyone, but the minute I saw his apartment, I knew this was bad. They broke up on a friday, and I started the job the following monday. In the space of just a weekend, the place turned into a disaster. Laundry was all over the floor and couch, plates and silverware with remnants of food were piled up and festering in the sink, and he was even taking garbage and tossing it on the floor rather than walk the necessary ten feet to the garbage can.

I was telling Marley about this, and she said, "And what did you think?"

"What did I think? I though he's just given up."

"No, there's something else, something you're afraid to tell me, like it'll hurt my feelings."

"Well, um," I mumbled, "I just, I saw this movie once where this, ah, drug addict was, like, all strung out and staying in this room that had, like, garbage and shit everywhere. And I thought, 'Fuck, it looks like a junkie lives here.'"

She nodded. "It's ok, I'm not offended. I actually kept my place pretty clean. I know you saw what it looked like when we saw my body, but that's because of what my boyfriend did."

"Well, like you said, I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

She smiled. "And that's why you do what you do."

Margaret O'Flannery Ruined My LIfe

I've been an angel for about a year now, and over that time I've noticed some patterns emerge. I've talked about a few of them already, like the spike in depression over Valentine's Day and the sorrow drowning excuse that St Patrick's day provides. Now I've got some categories, and one that's especially prevalent in New York City is men age forty. It sounds like a demographic but what it really is is a trigger. Lots of men who hit forty feel like their god damn lives are over, like anything they haven't achieved to that point will never happen. This happens with both professional and personal goals. When I noticed this, I said to Archangel Michael, "We should form divisions, like have a Job Frustration Department and a Turning Forty Department."

"Oh, We tried that about 400 years ago. It was too structured, the angels didn't like visiting the same issues over and over again."

Makes sense. Nevertheless, my latest job can go in the Men Age Forty file. Ron, we'll call him, is forty, single, and lamenting a lost love. "I hadn't thought about her in years," he said, "then this guy at work asked me who I'd rather be with, a girl who's smart and ugly or hot and stupid. Right away I said, 'hot and stupid.' Then that reminded me of a girl I dated a few years after college. She was blond and beautiful, but she was also a summa cum laude at Columbia University."

"Brains and beauty," I said.

"Exactly. Great girl. She was perfect. But she was actually still in school at the time. She got a B on a paper and acted like it was my fault, like it was because she was spending too much time with me. Then I lost my job. It was a horrible job and it turned out to be a blessing, but at the time, I don't know. I was unemployed when I met her and she didn't care. But after a few months . . . I don't know, maybe she thought if her work was suffering, then it wasn't worth it to be with some unemployed shlub.

"You broke up?"

"Yeah, she dumped me. It was years ago, but I don't know. I'm still single, what if I was like, meant to be with her, and it got screwed up somehow, so now there's no one for me. You know what I mean?"

"That's an interesting theory," I said. "Don't think I buy it though. If there really was fate and destiny, we wouldn't have control over our futures. Look at it this way, if you had a destiny, it would have to come from somewhere, like from God, or some kind of supreme being. Do you think God would be so cruel as to condemn you to a life of misery because of some bad luck that happened fifteen years ago?"

"I guess not." He took a long pause and said, "If there is a God."

So his current state still left him with doubts about both himself and universe. Life can be hard on faith. But at least what I told him gave him hope that his soul mate was still out there somewhere. Michael told me there was no fate, so I felt good that my words were true. Then again, his problem made me feel relieved that I had someone to go home to. Is that ok?

Forget Tony Danza, He's The Boss. And Fuck Bruce Springsteen Too

When I was a kid growing up in New York, local TV station WPIX channel 11 was know for five things: local news, old movies, reruns, after school cartoons, and of course, Yankee games. I would come home after after school, watch cartoons and see the ads for the games, and before long I started watching. That's how I became a Yankee fan. Mom and dad were Met fans and I later became the black sheep of the family. But it was their fault. They didn't watch baseball when I was was kid. They had their chance and they blew it. It was a great move on their part though; for all the things I had in my life to be miserable about, their indifference saved me from the sorrow of becoming a Met fan. Thanks mom and dad!

And so it saddens me to learn of George Steinbrenner's passing. I'm hoping I'll get the chance to meet him soon, though I'm sure there's millions of people waiting for their chance, so better let it wait.

"You're an angel," said Sashial. "You ought to go first."

"Doesn't make me better than any other fan," I said. "It wouldn't be fair."

She patted my cheek. "You're such a sweetheart."

Some might say he's actually going to Hell, but trust me, he's here. As tough as he was on people, his drive to win truly brought joy to millions of people. I'm not saying a little colateral damage is ok, but life is balance and you can never please anyone. How many people have you pissed off over your lifetime? I'm betting the ratio holds pretty close.

His drive and guidance brought seven championships. I didn't see all of them, in fact I waited most of lifetime to that point until I saw one, but in a lifetime of misery and dissapointment, to be responsible for one thing gone right that brought emotional euphoria to my life (or five things if you want to look at it that way), I will be eternally grateful. And don't tell me the 90's championships were set up when he was banned from baseball; those were the seeds, and he came back in 1993 and put the final pieces in place.

The Yankees announcer Bob Sheppard died this week too. "You think he announced George's arrival?" I asked Marley. "'Now dying . . . The Boss . . . George . . . Steinbrenner.'"

She gave me an amused smirk with a hint of surprise. "That's kind of morbid."

"Well I am dead," I said. "And you know I already had a morbid sense of humor.'"

She said, "I'm dead too, I don't mind. And I know this saddens you. I think the humor helps."

She always knows.

Goin' Back To Cali, I Know So

Sashial wanted me to thank everyone who voted for Nick Swisher. As you can imagine, she's absolutely thrilled that he won the vote to become an All-Star.

"So where are we watching the game?" she asked.

"Let's go to Anaheim," I said. "It's an American League town, I think it'll nice to actually be cheering with crowd this time."

"Fuckin' A, let's rock that place! And I'm impressed with you too, wanting to embrace instead of hate."

"You think there might be hope for me after all?"

"I always knew there was hope for you, and you made the team. But now you're turning into an All-Star." She had kind of a proud glow when she said that.

"You goin' soft on me?" I asked.

"Shut the fuck up and get to work. There's a guy who just found out his crush is getting married."

"On it." Gotta run.

Swishalicious IS A Word. Because She Said So, That's Why.

"Sometimes it fucking sucks to be good." Not a surprising sentence coming from Sashial, but it still begged an explanation.

"You're not thinking of doing something bad, are you?" I asked, with confidence but caution.

She smirked and shook her head. "Don't be stupid, of course not. It just makes me mad. You know who my favorite Yankee is, don't you?"

Without taking a beat, I said, "Nick Swisher."

"Good boy. Now that he's in this final vote to make the All-Star team, it started me thinking. You can vote as many times as you want. If I wanted to, I could just create a computer and ring up a jillion votes. I could do it with a thought."

"And you're worried about the temptation?" I asked.

"Are you even fucking listening to me? No! The very idea of that is sickening. To bend the limits of fairness, how fucking greedy do you have to be? And some people live their lives that way. I just hate to think about it, you know?"

I know. Please vote for Nick Swisher. This is Sashial in a good mood. You don't want to see her angry.

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