My name is Alexis Pereira. I live in NYC, where I dabble in writing and acting. My work is regularly featured on Funny or Die and I've even created some original work for Funny or Die's Youtube page.
I currently write and perform at a monthly show at UCB, and I was even once on a house improv team there!
In this tumblr, you will find what I hope are interesting essays about my life. I like to think of myself as a statesman, though I may not know what that means exactly.
If you want to see and hear more about me, please visit alexispereira.net
by Alexis Pereira
The following is a true story.
She was rich. He was not.
She was a multi-millionaire. And he acted like those millions were his.
He’d order the food for everybody at the table at the finest restaurants. The most expensive bottles of wine he could get his hands on. He had his personally tailored clothes flown in from around the world. She didn’t, though, claiming she wasn’t interested in it, though there were rumors that he didn’t allow her to.
There were rumors that he wanted to leave, too. That a few years into their marriage he felt small, useless. He had some money. She wouldn’t have married a guy with no money. He was also very handsome.
He could be a news anchor, the Spanish-speaking staff would all agree.
But she wouldn’t have it. Not that she was SO in love with him, but she was too prideful to be divorced. She told him it wasn’t an option.
"Of course it’s an option, what are you gonna do?" he asked.
"What if I gave you all my money?"
That stopped him in his tracks. They went to a lawyer and worked out a new nuptial agreement, wherein he was now in charge of her millions. He started sleeping in the main bedroom again shortly afterwards.
A few years later, there were new rumors. He wasn’t coming home with lipstick on his collar, but a staff that dotes on you 24/7 notices everything.
"El tiene otra," they started whispering to each other. "He has another."
They wondered if she knew. She certainly didn’t act any different. She didn’t seem upset or suspicious.
But one day, during one of their arguments, she stopped talking mid-sentence. And she just stared at him. He looked at her, flummoxed. His anger turned to worry.
And she started laughing.
She laughed for almost a minute, while he stared at her wide-eyed and confused.
"I’m just imagining what kind of an asshole you are to her. The shit she probably has to deal with."
He bristled at the comment, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She smiled, “You think I’m an idiot?”
She then gathered herself and walked away. The staff talked about it for months. He also quickly cut off the affair.
At least that’s what the staff noticed. They notice everything.
I was on a crowded N at 59th St. when I heard a few gasps and a thud. A few yards to my left, a young Indian man had just collapsed on the floor.
He was immediately alert, if not a little dazed, and his friends picked up him and brought him over to a newly vacated seat. They were all wearing jeans and t-shirts, but gave the impression that they all had just worked together somewhere.
As the man sat down, I felt another commotion coming the other way. Another Indian man, this one in his late 50’s wearing a suit and tie, was squeezing his way through people on his way over to the group.
"Excuse me, excuse me," he said hurriedly.
He finally got over to them and wordlessly pushed them out of the way. He then got face to face with the dazed man and literally yelled:
"Are you ok?!?"
The dazed man nodded quietly, but this was not enough for the older man.
"Don’t bullshit me! I will take you to hospital!"
The dazed young man again nodded his head, but now said, “I’m ok.”
His friends just watched silently, but the older suited man stood up and now yelled at them:
"Don’t play with his life! If he is sick, take him to hospital!"
They nodded and mumbled “ok,” and the older man stood there until the next stop and got off.
When I was 19, my dad called me at a party at 1 am and we got in an argument about what time I’d be home. After hanging up, I saw my restaurant manager smiling at me. I went crimson, but he tapped me on the shoulder and went, “As you get older, you’ll think of the people who cared about you so much that they got upset, and you’ll wish they were still around.”
I was drinking a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and had no idea what he meant.
I think we should give a break to taking a break.
Every fuck’n day, I see a news story attacking somebody for taking a vacation.
The President gets it a lot. Now the Mayor of NYC. CEOs. Celebrities. Basically anybody in the public eye is attacked and/or mocked for going on vacation.
And I know what you’re saying: but they’re rich, they’re powerful. Maybe they should go on vacation, but at the very least, I don’t give a shit about hurting their feelings. Fuck ‘em.
Well, you should give a shit. Because these news stories aren’t really trying to take away their vacations. They’re trying to take away YOUR vacation.
You think it’s an accident that ‘vacation” has become a bad word? Who do you think pays for these news stories? Literally every company on Earth. Who doesn’t want you to have leverage when taking your vacation? Again, literally every company on Earth. By sponsoring news stories attacking these public personas for going on vacation, the powers that be have made it easier to then tell people like you and me “no” when we ask for our vacations from work.
And of course, they don’t just say “no” - they subvert our vacations. Some companies give 3 weeks but write you up for taking every day. Some quietly suggest you don’t take more than half your days. Some force you to keep answering your emails.
And why do they have that power? Why don’t more people go ballistic?
Because it’s…ew…vacation. Vacation is for slobs. You care, don’t you? Unlike that Obama, who went GOLFING for 2 days. Vacation is where fat people lay shirtless on the beach and then die of a coronary. Vacation is where, ugh, celebrities walk around on a boat. Are you gonna walk around on a boat? Like you’re a princess? A LAZY princess?! No, right? Good, see you Monday.
So, remember, it’s all a scam. Shut up about other people’s vacations - whoever they are - and take yours.