The following is a retelling of the events of March 21, 2008:
After handing in my article on the release of Aimee Mann's seventh album "@#%&! Smilers, due June 3 on her own SuperEgo Records, to my editor and boss, Mr P, he abruptly slapped me in the face.
Mr P: What the hell is this shit? This was supposed to be an article about Aimee Mann. Why the bloody hell (Mr P is British) did you continually mention Paul Thomas Anderson, who has used Mann's music in his films?
Emceegreg: Talking about Aimee Mann and not mentioning P.T.A is like preachin' about Jesus and not mentioning his "sexy soccer legs."
Mr P: But you didn't begin to write anything about Mann or the actual album. You failed to mention the album has a different sound according to Mann, with no electric guitar and a lot of Moog. You also could have told the readers that she will be touring soon, as well as making appearances at the Bonnaroo festival in June, NPR's "All Things Considered," and Ovation's "Live From the Artist's Den."
I told Mr P that what he said was all bullshit, and then he clocked me in my right eye with his robotic fist.
The next morning when I arrived at the homeless Vietnam Vet And Injured Kitten Shelter that I volunteer at, I was bombarded with questions of how I got my black eye. I told them I ran into a door. A door named, Mr P.
