I met Tony Wilson on Friday.

–If you don’t know who Tony Wilson is, he singlehandedly started the UK rave movement with his independent label Factory Records, signing Joy Division (Love will tear us apart) who became New Order (Blue Monday [NOT Orgy]), and the Happy Mondays (Whose lead singer’s fat head is in Noodle’s closet in the Gorillaz video for “Dare”), among others.

He came in and introduced himself as “Mr. Wilson”. This man is a legend, especially to me. Initially, didn’t know it was him, so I hung out with him while he waited for his meeting with another legend, who is a different story altogether. We hung out and bitched about the incompetent security in our building. You could tell his reputation for being an uncompromising prick with a grim sense of humor is warranted. You could also tell he was extremely cool.

Eventually, legend #2’s assistant came out to get him, at this point Mr. Wilson said his first name. This is when the wheels came off for me. When I put 2 and 2 together, I made this stupid noise that was somewhere between a gasp and the sound boxers make when they get hit. Somewhere in this noise I incorporated a, “YOUR Tony WILSON???!!” making me look like a huge moron, they both heard me, but not quite well enough to respond. As they walked past they both gave me a look like I had just whipped my dick out. The kind of look that was meant to say, “put it away kid, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Its a monday morning and I am checking my messages. Soon after three stuttering mouth breathing jerkoff messages from some guy wanting to know what kind of guitar Lyndsay Buckingham played, I get this:

[Massive Static, sounds like it is coming out of the TV from the Craig T. Nelson classic, Poltergeist]
Sultry female voice: Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh…huuunnnnnnnhhhh sssssiiiiiiiiiign me. siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiign meeeeeeeeeee. sssssssssssign me to a lucrative record deal. I will be your sssssssssex slave for a year. Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh…mmmmmmm.
Didnt leave her number, if she did, I would have hit her up.

O’Reily from the old HBO show “Oz” (you know the one with the prison, where Elliot Stabler is a fruit bat) wandered into the office today. We share the floor with a large internet company that is on it’s way to ruling the world. A lot of people wander into our office thinking they are walking into the offices of this famous acronym we share the floor with. O’reily is one of these people. Me “Hello. How can I help you?”
O’Reily [Sits Down] “Yeah I’m here to see (some name I’ve never heard).”
Me “I’m sorry, that person doesn’t work here.”
O’Reily [Gets out cell phone] “I just talked to him. Make it happen.” At this point I’m surprised he hasn’t called me “Chief”.

I knew long before he did that he was in the wrong place, but I didn’t want to be a dick about it. I mean, its O’reily, he’ll probably get Cyrill to fondle me in my sleep with a coat hanger or some shit if I fuck with him. So I lead O’reily over to the acronym while he mumbles something about being high.

Speaking of “O’”names…I also work near the headquarters of a news network that most dirty sandal-wearing liberals despise. My friends Cliff, Tweak, and I were walking down the street when we see the networks most famous and most hated anchor, O’fuckhead.

O’fuckhead walks by, Cliff recognizes his face only, O’fuckhead smiles.
Cliff [Points] “Jerk.”
(This was amazing, the way he said it was somewhere between a question and a declarative statement.)
O’fuckhead stops smiling.
Cliff “Who was that guy?”