I had a work phone and every time I got a text, I’d have a panic attack — I was so concerned, because he was so pedantic about how everything was done, so even if I knew I’d done everything right, I was always worried.
The list: A red balloon tied with white yarn, two pairs of matching gladiator sandals (made in Italy, which is actually a very difficult ask), a wheel of parmesan cheese, a very specific and expensive bottle of Barolo, a pack of Parodis, which, by the way, is a practically defunct brand of Italian cigars, a classic glass ashtray, and an old copy of 'The Aeneid'.
You had to know and be liked by his dog.
I think the reason that I’ve been hired and hired again has to do with with the fact that the notion of celebrity doesn’t totally faze me.
I got this epic stream of text messages. The most vitriolic messages I’ve ever received. Nothing like, 'Fuck you.' Like way worse.