Yesterday, I did an interview with a local director and now I can't find the tape for it. Shit. I really hate that. Really. A lot. It was the last interview I did of the day, but instead of coming back and listening to it and writing it right away, I took it out of the tape recorder and worked on a different story. Sort of. Mostly I just checked my hotmail. What!? It was, like 5:25! So I took it out. And I put the other tape...where? Yeah. I don't know.
Now, I have to go through approximately 14 tapes to see if there's any chance that it's on one of those. They all look the same.
And all the smart-arses here were like "Maybe you didn't actually record the interview." But here's the thing: I know I recorded this interview. I KNOW it. I know it like Jennifer Garner knows deep down in her soul that this thing with Ben Affleck is probably a mistake. A tragic mistake.
I looked down at my tape recorder several times while talking to this guy and thought to myself: "Wheels in motion, you're aces, kid. " So I tend to talk to myself like I private dick in a bad film noir. You wanna make something of it?
So I know I recorded it. And I had the volume all the way up, so there's no way I didn't record it and I know I had a tape in the recorder because it won't record without one. So what the fuck!? Where is it? Where!? ???
Was I wearing pants? Did I take the tape out and put it in my pants? No. I was wearing a skirt yesterday. A skirt. What about my jacket? Yes! That's it! Check the pockets! Maybe I put it in my jacket pock� no. Not there. Shit.
Okay. Okay. I know it's here. I know it. Where else could it be? I kind of cleaned my desk up today. Maybe it's somewhere I wouldn't normally put it. Maybe it's in my bag.
Ohmigod! There it is! I'll just totally pop it in and there it will be sitting there waiting for me to....Shit. I put all the tapes in my bag. This is the one I combed over before. Christ on a bike!
Whhhyyyyy did I doooooo thissssss!?!
Okay. Calm. Calm. Just go back through your tapes one by one. You took out a new one for this, right?
Right. I did. I came back from the interview and took . . . no. Wait. It wasn't new! In the cab on the way to the school I was fast-forwarding through the interview I did with the hypnotist earlier Wednesday. I remember because the hypnotist was British and the cab driver said something about it. Something about 'fucking limey bastards.' Yeah. That's right! So that was the tape that I had with me. It's on that tape!
And hey! Guess what? It was!
Yay for deductive reasoning. Yay for me! I wish I would have figured this out almost two hours ago when I started freaking out about it so I could have finished this fucking story today. Oh well.
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