When Sean asked if I'd be interested in guest blogging on Zembla this weekend, I jumped at the chance. It's a ballsy move on his part, bringing on an unknown, younger female writer from a competing network. Perhaps that's why he scheduled my spot in between those of Michele and Christine, two more experienced in-house writers. I'm like the fledgling show that gets the 8:30 time slot in NBC's Must See TV lineup; I'm The Single Guy to Michele's Friends and Christine's Seinfeld. You may have heard my name thrown around Zembla before, but you don't really know what I'm about, if I'm going to be very funny, or if I have any hot co-stars. Or perhaps you've caught brief glimpses of some of my guest appearances in the Cementhorizon photo gallery, but you didn't know who I was, or you thought I was somebody else. Usually, I try to correct these mistakes, but every once in a while I'll choose to let it go, either because the conversation becomes too complicated, or because I realize that my life-as-imagined-by-others is much more exciting than my actual life. Take the following two conversations as examples:
At Work
Cassie: (on phone) Good morning, sir. This is Cassie Wu from the auction gallery, and I just wanted to let you know about one of the paintings in our upcoming sale.
Customer: Hi Kathy, thanks for calling. I actually wanted to talk to you about some paintings I was thinking of selling.
Cassie: Oh, I think you might have me confused with Kathy Wong, our Fine Art Coordinator.
Customer: I thought you said you were Kathy?
Cassie: No, I'm Cassie.
Customer: (pause) You're not the Asian one?
Cassie: (pause) Well, um, I am Asian, but I'm not Kathy.
(silence)
Cassie: Sorry, I mean, there are two of us here named Kathy. I'm the Kathy that's in charge of marketing. You want to speak to the Kathy who's in charge of the fine art. It gets a little confusing.
Customer: So, you're not the young Chinese-American one? From Berkeley? Who studied Art History?
Cassie: (pause) No. No, I'm not.
At Sean's House
Man at Party: Right, I remember now! You're Mark's girlfriend!
Cassie: No...we just know each other from CalSO.
MaP: Oh, ok. Wait, wait, I got it. You live with Dave D.!
Cassie: Yes! That's me! Except we actually don't live together anymore.
MaP: (uncomfortable) Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't know...
Cassie: Oh, no no! It wasn't like that! No, we were just roommates. I mean, apartment-mates.
MaP: Ah, ok. So wait, you're Sean's girlfriend, then, right?
Cassie: No.
MaP: But I saw you two disappear into his room earlier.
Cassie: Oh, well, we were just talking about books.
MaP: That's all?
Cassie: Well, I guess not... I think we might have gotten started on March Madness...
MaP: (throws up hands) Hey, hey, that's ok if you don't want to admit anything... I gotcha. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.
Cassie: Wha-- No, no, it's not like tha--
MaP: It's cool, it's cool! Hell, if I were getting laid, I'd tell the whole world!
Cassie: Heh. Ok. Yeah. Wait, I mean, yeah!!! Of course I'm getting laid!
As you can see, my pride, along with a strong desire to avoid awkward conversations, does nothing to help clear the confusion surrounding my identity. Unfortunately, I fear the blog execs at Zembla will pre-empt me next weekend in favor of an Iron Comic recap, so it's unlikely that I'll get enough airtime to really set the record straight. Unless somebody else decides to pick me up, if you catch my drift, gentlemen. Or ladies. But that plot point won't be explored until Season 2, at the earliest. Until then, please stay tuned for Zembla's last guest blog post of the weekend, brought to you by Christine. Don't touch that mouse!
hee, i'm so glad to be friends instead of seinfeld due to my extreme hatred for the latter. thank you, cassie wu, for now you will always be to me the young, chinese-american, previously long-haired, now short-haired, with square glasses, went to berkeley, is doing something in sean's room, very funny girl who when given two choices of TV gave me the one i am less personally disgusted by.
sometimes i might get confused though and think it was the other way around. at those times, i might throw fruit at your head. as long as i can figure out which head is yours.
As long as it's not a strawberry, a banana, or any combination of the two, I think I'll be able to survive the attack and forgive you. But then I might make you sit through an episode of Seinfeld as revenge.