PLEASE!
The ghost of Barbara Harris and I tore through the closet at my restaurant — where is the DARK MATTER Yeti cup?! I’m accusing UNIQUE of stealing it. I’m joking. I hate that I took his to-go cup, because it was the perfect mug, and I brought it to work. I forgot about it. My roommate politely mentioned it, and he even told me, a Black man, that I had the RIGHT to take it. I’ve been ripping apart my work life to find it — and my job is ON it — with a snarky message from IVAN about the messy drawer. Okay, not my problem, didn’t do that, stepping over coats, passing erotic art of Chinese people fucking — okay? WHERE’S THE DARK MATTER YETI CUP? Losing my mind. Picturing the entire company behind the restaurant — launching into action. “Where’s the cup?”
There was CHAI tea IN it, and Diego didn’t get it, like, if I found a coffee mug with liquid in it, he’s not taking it. No one would, I don’t think, it’s more that I can’t locate it, and that’s the last place I saw it. I had not yet finished my chai, so I do not remember going to a bathroom to empty it, I do not remember taking it HOME. Did I leave it on the subway or on the bench? I admittedly went through a final tense period where I had to write on my blog at all times to simply keep going. NYC Dark Matter does not have it, but they were nice enough to explain their whole system operation, like we discontinued those, we’re doing handleless Yeti mugs now. NO!
And I will mention it, because the “Black men being the unsung heroes of my life right now” idea keeps catching on, even psychically, yes, as I am the most psychic person next to Dave Chappelle that anyone had ever seen. Like, it was an immediate observation.
I was pacing the restaurant, and a couple of male friends were dining in my section. I had just gone on a whole discourse with people as to how significant it was to my roommate, and this friend whipped out a wallet as I passed their table “even this is significant to me….”
I laughed.
His best friend bought this to-go yeti cup in Chicago. Black Matter called their production warehouse to check if there was ANY anywhere, and so, I hope it turns up? I really don’t understand. I just don’t think I took it out of the closet, and I’m losing my mind, opening up all these cabinets. I’m going to spend some time online to see if I can FIND this goddamn Dark Matter yeti cup. WITH a handle. It’s a to go CUP, with a lid, with a handle. Let me see. I’m going to think, but unless I left it on the subway or beside me on a bench — it’s gotta be somewhere at work. Or somewhere here, and I’m just not seeing it, or something. I’m trying to track it down.
Okay, wish me luck, let’s hope my Mortal Kombat IV skills help me here — as I tracked down the video game in less than a day in the fourth grade as part of my undercover investigation into the sex scandal I was in — and it was available at BLOCKBUSTER. WHERE would the yeti cup equivalent be? WHERE? Thinking about how this Black man flashed his wallet, like “this is significant,” taking THE WORD out of my mouth, “to me also.” I laughed, I did.
Unfortunately, something like that is going to happen to me, so I have to not do that, not like it happens often, but I can blank, even. Don’t give my DVDs because this bitch is going to come over, spill her drink on them, just don’t do it, and I’m going to be nodding like, “JESUS CHRIST!” I’m not doing it anymore. I can’t, I will not risk it.
The guru believed that this was a psychological game related to the underlining disappointment I felt with my father…? I can’t stop laughing. I don’t think so. You know what I mean? Charles would never do that to me. He would probably be touched to what lengths I went to get it back. I hope to be at his wedding, in attendance. He’s the nicest man. I do not want to lose his goddamn DARK MATTER YETI CUP. (The flash again, the wallet, “this too.”) Psychically in tune. The Black community has responded on the psycho-spiritual plane.
Okay, so I called Black Matter NYC and Chicago. I called YETI. Now, I’m on Etsy, and I’m going to see if someone can just reproduce the mug. I’ll keep looking for it because WHERE is it? But at least, I can take care of it right away, because I am NOT waiting until FRIDAY, as he even gave me a WEEK, like no worries, to let him down if I need to.
To the guru, I’m just a nice person who cares about your shit, whether it be the I-TANYA DVD or a black matter coffee cup. Please! I need holiday magic, Common, yes the rapper, to somehow find this blog post… as he’s in Chicago. “I bought one…” and contact me through Instagram (@marmoch) saying he has the Black Matter Yeti Rambler, 14 oz, and it’s not THAT significant to him, so no worries, you can venmo me. Private. I would ensure that all Common would have to do is give it to a fed ex employee, hopefully played by Ed Norton (lol). I put up an ad on craigslist Chicago and New York and Facebook marketplace. There’s gotta be someone out there with this yeti mug! I truly wrote these ads. MUST GET THE YETI.
I wish I hadn’t taken it to work. I have no recollection of any other time I used this cup. I don’t think I took it to a Columbia rehearsal. I don’t think I took it to an open mic.
Wouldn’t it be hilarious if the Black Matter Yeti was there — in the safe hands of a comedian. “Thought this was important, just a feeling.”
“Oh yeah, here the whole time.”
I might, I might call around. I just don’t think I ever used it more than once? It’s one of these things, did I blank out?
Anyway, I’m going to let it go a minute, and I’ll see if I can get one custom-made. I just don’t like losing people’s things. It’s not that nice, a feeling. I don’t know if it happens THAT often that I need to be psycho analyzed like I have some META problem with disappointing people… and the hilarious bit, I remember my old roommate, she DESTROYED my Marc Jacobs coat, the interior, blaming the quality of the coat. I didn’t even get a fucking apology. People have swiped my shit, for sure. I hate that.
It’s happened TWICE in ten years. You see what I mean? This guru, Jesus. Psychoanalyzing me because I’m caring. Like, do you know what that is? A caring person?
Now, what needs to happen?
A Black man needs to…casually, like he sees me in a state of distress on a citibike even. He goes out of his way…simply wondering what the trouble is? “Are you okay?”
“I lost my roommates Black Matter Yeti cup…”
“The squat one? The one that looks like a mug?”
“YES…”
“I have it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I bought a couple because…”
“It’s the perfect…”
“Mug…”
“Really?”
“Sure…”
“Can I buy it?”
“I’ll be happy to give it to you…”
“Thank you,” shaking…