Thursday, January 11, 2007

Of Placebo and Simon Webbe

First, Placebo.

As you can tell by my icon and my numerous odes to the band, I’m a big Placebo fan. So you can imagine my delight when I got to hang out with the band.

Unfortunately, this didn’t really happen, except in my head. I had one of the best dreams ever last night. Essentially, it was a long, drawn out, extremely fun dream. Brian and I talked about philosophy (we may have stumbled on the meaning of life, but I’ve forgotten what it is -- besides, does he even do that in real life?), Stefan tried to persuade me to buy these weird sneakers decorated with lace and Velcro (we were at a shot, they were on sale -- he ended up persuading my aunt instead), and Steve and I, in a mini subplot (mini na, subplot pa!), helped bring Britney Spears, who had been turned into a cat, change back to human form, but not before she managed to talk to the ghost of her dead ex husband, who was a famous indie comic book writer/ illustrator. I told you it was a dream.

The Simon Webbe thing, though, was real.

I was supposed to interview Simon Webbe, you know, the hot black guy from the now defunct boy band Blue, for a magazine. He was supposed to call at 6am. I got everything ready, did my research, formulated questions, set my alarm ten minutes early so that I would be alert when I took the call.

He didn’t.

Now I know what it feels like to be stood up by famous musician. Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt. I guess I would have felt differently if it was Brian. Or Stef. Or Steve. So I went on with my day, arriving at the office early and managing to upload more stuff into the new site we’re constructing.

At 6pm, I get a call from an unknown number. The line was choppy. Through the static, I managed to hear the voice of a British guy ask if I was me, and I worked for a magazine. Now I write for many magazines, so I didn’t know which one he was referring to. It only it me after I heard a faint, staticky “Webbe” in one of his sentences.

He hadn’t forgotten me at all!

I have to admit though that the whole thing felt sort of like that Simpson’s episode where they were trying to housetrain their dog, Santa’s Little Helper, and you can see the family members from SLH’s point of view and they’re going “Blahblahblahblah Santa’s Little Helper blahblahblah.” It’s rather sad, especially since my point of comparison is an animal that spends most of its life with its tongue sticking out of its open mouth.

The guy on the other line was kind enough to let me compose myself and gather my equipment before putting Simon on. By “gathering my equipment,” I mean frantically searching my bag and desk for my tape recorder and pre-written questions (See children? It pays to prepare!). Thank goodness my phone isn’t 3G.

Simon was very nice and the interview went very well -- well, what I could hear of it anyway. I only hope that Simon didn’t think that the writer on the phone was a dolt who didn’t learn how to follow up questions in journalism school (In my defense, I never went to journalism school -- unless taking a journ class as a mandatory elective counts). Otherwise, the interview went well. He has a lovely voice and his answers (what I could hear of them anyway) were articulate. Thankfully, the conversation registered well on my tape recorder, so I won’t have a problem transcribing the conversation later.

There ends my story of Simon and Placebo (feat. Britney Spears). Back to regular programming. All rise!

No comments: