SHORT:
Thank you to everyone who reached out about The American Pope.
I’m excited for him, altho a bit concerned, given what I know about the experience (includes a lot of nearly shitting yourself at a midtown Starbucks).
MEDIUM:
The other day in therapy, I mentioned that I didn’t like when scary guys at the gym talk to me. To which he replied, “Why? Because they’re flirting?” And I was like, oh my god… I need to get an ugly therapist.
“NO, THEY TALK TO ME BECAUSE THEY WANNA USE THE LEG PRESS AND I’M BLOCKING IT LIKE A HUMAN TRAFFIC CONE.” DAMN. We do not live in the same reality.
If ur mental health professional is ugly, lmk1.
LONG:
Well, I fell down.
In Times Square.
My loafer caught the curb, I let out a full cartoon “woaaahohoh”—and plop… knee to pavement, right next to a pretzel cart, Elmo, and the Hard Rock Cafe (which is currently doing a Shakira collab).
When you fall in Times Square, nobody cares. But everyone sees. It’s like being a sandwich someone dropped, but on a Jumbotron. I can only hope someone trying to photograph a horse cop in front of the Hard Rock x Shakira Haus captured me, mid-sprawl, on the piss-slicked, tourist-trampled cement of da American Empire.
I was on my way to meet my mom for Mother’s Day, so I picked myself up, wiped off my bloody knee, and pressed on (But not before texting “just ate shit in Times Square” to a few friends—an attempt to feel slightly less like a sandwich, I suppose. One friend replied with: “What’d’you get? I’m about to slam a can of Pringles.” I nearly lied and said “a soft pretzel.” But I chose honesty: The ground. The titular Square).
When I greeted my mom, she offered me a bag of 11 loose nuts she’d been saving “for later” (almost Snack Of The Week). I declined and we entered the Longacre theater to see a Broadway show. An usher led us to our seats and said 2, 4, 6, 8 (re: our assigned numbers). My mom replied, “who do we appreciate?” The usher did not answer. Just walked away.
“There’s no way he doesn’t know ‘2, 4, 6, 8 who do we appreciate…’” my mother muttered, insulted.
Before the lights went down, I learned that my mom’d taken an elevator ride with Spike Lee earlier that day; in fact, a woman told them that they’d reached the ground floor, so my mom and Spike got off, but it wasn’t the ground floor, so my mom and Spike had to take a bunch of escalators further down.
Thank you, Spike, for spending Mother’s Day with my mother. I heard she was saying stuff like, “they gotta mark the exits better!!!!” out loud, while you remained calm.
After the show, we waited at the stagedoor so my mom could tell the lead actor of the musical that he did a really good job standing still and playing a mummy.
Then we walked to dinner (but had to stop at Pastrami Queen to get 6 pigs in a blanket with mustard loose in a plastic container to tide us over — actual Snack Of The Week.
We tried to eat the pigs right away, but they were too hot, so instead, we walked down 8th avenue with the container open to “air them out a little”). While treating the dogs to a convertible experience, we passed (I shit you not) Timothee Chalamet.
One time my friend Mary said if she ever saw Timothee Chalamet on the street, she’d “pull her pants down, take out her bloody tampon, and throw it.”
I texted her that I saw him but did not do that. Perhaps if I hadn’t already fallen down in Times Square earlier that day, I would have.
Actually, probably not. I’m not that disturbed. No offense to my delightful and beautiful friend Mary.
By the way (and not unrelatedly), when my not-ugly therapist asked if the guys at the gym were flirting with me, I replied, “If they were, something’s deeply wrong with them.”
To which he of course then asked, “does that mean there’s something wrong with Jess then?”
To which I replied, “Yes. Many, many things. They know every word to all 7 Seasons of the television show Veep and used to rub shaving cream on their wall-to-wall mural of One Direction.”
To which, he didn’t quite know what to say.
Boom.
C U Next Tuesday
[And btw, if anyone wants a Shakira International Women’s Month 2025 pin, Hard Rock is still selling them!]
Thank you for subscribing to this newsletter. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not [like when people slip on ice].
If this is your first time reading, pls check out the archives.
Sincerely,
Reid Pope
Bonus Zone:
New episode of Going Down is out today at 4pm ET. Watch it!
I did a fun video for my friend Dan. Watch it!
Next week I’m gonna be like “I’m suicidal” and he’s gonna be like, “why? cuz all your friends wanna kiss u and you can’t kiss ‘em all at once with ur one tongue!?”
Great newsletter this week! Can’t believe you walked right by Timothee Chalamet!!!
Often carry around those loose nuts myself.
Must be a generational thing.
Yes, I did just print it out and read it.
Ok, I’ve been wondering all day so came back to ask, why did Jess put shaving cream on the One Direction mural?