Mother Fuckin Public Relations

If I ever found myself in need of a PR guy I would hire Andrew Samtoy. He sent this to me this morning. He’s a real stinker.

I’ve long been scared of Candra Squire.

The first interaction I had with her was when I ordered a card of hers.  Days and days later, after the party at which I wanted to present it to the host, she finally sent it to me; she’d been on vacation, she said, and was sorry, so she sent me a few extra cards to make up for it.  The idea that someone could just up and go away on vacation like that was impressive, but also I was scared that I cared that much about getting a card from her. Then, a month or so later, I saw that she was presenting at Pecha Kucha at the House of Blues, so I went to see her.  I sat in the front row and at one point my girlfriend at the time told me to be quiet because I was laughing so hard that it was embarrassing her.  Candra was brilliant and hilarious and I bought something from her husband – a pin?  Another card? – after the show on an impulse buy and vowed to do my own Pecha Kucha presentation someday, when I had something good to talk about.  Until then, though, she was this incredibly creative card maker and comedian and I thought of her in the same way teenagers think about celebrities, which, of course, she kind of is, in a way.

I just realized that maybe I’m trying to be Candra Squire?