My Evil Ego

Some people have an alter ego. I have an evil ego. I am convinced that the evil ego who lives inside me is an angry gay man. He rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers at things and makes shallow remarks, and is usually brought out by my best friend because her evil ego is another angry gay man, who just so happens to be the best friend of my evil ego.

I suppress him most of the time because the other side of me is a deeply caring person, who has a tendency to empathize so much with those who are less fortunate that sad things often weigh very heavily on my mind for periods of time that are extended beyond the standard empathy time (whatever the standard is; I know I just usually feel bad about random shit longer than other people normally do). However, my evil ego also loves to play pranks on dearly loved ones. This I do not suppress.

A friend of mine from North Carolina can vouch for my evil ego as she will recall how much joy I found in renting a sad movie and giggling softly from my corner of the couch as I watched her ball her eyes out. I pride myself in not crying during movies, and after I saw "My Life," my first thought was, I have got to rent this movie for Daphne. Daphne cries in almost every dramatic movie, regardless of the degree of sadness. I particularly delighted in watching her cry during "Finding Nemo."

Yesterday morning, my colleague Jenny and I decided to make a quick Starbucks and Bryant Park Post Office run before the morning got too hectic. We were approaching the post office when I realized it was still before 9 a.m. There were people standing outside waiting for it to open, and as we got closer I slowed down and stopped at the curb.

Jenny, who - as long as we've worked together across the street - didn't seem to know exactly where the post office was (it's kind of hidden by scaffolding at the moment), looked back at me and asked, "Where are we going?"

"This is it," I replied. She turned toward the door: "Oh ok, let's go."

I stood at the curb with a huge smile, my chin tilted downward and my eyebrows slightly furrowed (this is my evil ego face when something devious is taking place) as I realized that she did not realize that the post office wasn't open yet.

She passed the other people waiting outside the post office and yanked on the door. Of course, it was locked. I know those people were thinking of her what I often think of those who push elevator buttons in the lobby after someone else has clearly pushed it: Thanks for pushing that, buddy! I was just going to stand here in the elevator bank and wait for someone else to push the already-lit-button again so that the elevator will actually come.

She looked back at me and - upon seeing my evil ego smiling intently at her - yelled, "Oh! You're so evil!"

Exactly.