My Life Got Flipped Turned Upside Down

Yesterday was a hectic day, to say the least, here at FTFMG headquarters. First, I open my real life work email to see a message from my director lambasting me for failing to submit a timesheet before I left last week and further suggesting that I need time management training! Boss, do you realize that I spent half my work time last week writing a blog and I still got all the important work done? I think I'm managing time pretty well, thank you very much. Timesheet? Come on with that shit.

Then, FMG drops a bomb on me. He has uncovered the alter-ego of everyone's favorite super-blogger. He knows who I am. I don't know what resources he has at his disposal but if I had to guess I'd say that I'm dealing with a real life Charles Widmore here.

My head was spinning so badly when he first revealed this to me that I almost cancelled dinner plans with my parents. In hindsight, I should have. On three different occasions my mother asked me, "What's wrong?" Not believing me when I said, "Nothing." Funny thing how moms just know.

I couldn't finish my delicious Legal Seafoods oven baked chicken. I couldn't even conjure up a decent fantasy about our adorable, blond waitress. I couldn't picture us spending a day at the beach together. I couldn't picture her playfully pouring a pail of ocean water on my feet, startling me as I lay half-asleep on my stomach. I couldn't picture how cute she looked in my sunglasses that she had to borrow because she left hers in the car. I couldn't picture her reminding me to put more sunblock on my shoulders because I was "starting to red". I couldn't picture her closing her book, giving me a kiss and whispering in my ear, "Let's go home." I couldn't picture any of it! Damn you, FMG!

Thankfully, he has indicated that he won't be going to the press just yet, but still....he knows. And I know he knows. And he knows I know he knows. The game has changed.

So the question is; What do I do now? Do I buy an anthrax detector? That thing sounds really expensive. Do I stay hidden in my house longer than the 14 hours a day that I do already? Do I start carrying a Swiss Army Knife? I mean every time I open a door or turn a corner I have to worry that FMG might jump out screaming, "Shitballs Johnson!" at me. This is no way to live.

Well, I've given this a lot of thought. And even though FMG has my ID in his back-pocket, as long as he continues to pick on poor Manzo, I will continue to call him out as I see fit.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go. The bug sweepers are coming at noon. And while they do that, I'm gonna go buy a remote car starter.