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
That is some next level stuff, right there.
"The usual?!" cheerfully asked the barista as the woman behind me entered the cramped but trendy Tribeca coffee shop. I started going there every afternoon for either a small coffee or a flat white, but I’d never received such a reception from any of the counter people.
"You got it!" answered the customer just as buoyantly.
The barista began crafting whatever beverage it was, but after a moment the customer chimed in:
The barista stopped but didn’t drop her smile:
"Oh iced? Sure."
She dumped the cup’s contents into the sink, grabbed a plastic cup, and scooped some ice. The customer chimed in again:
I was just putting a cover on my coffee and grabbing a napkin, but I slowed down to listen to this exchange. The barista now labored to keep her initial exuberance:
"So, a large iced cappuccino right?"
The customer nodded with a smile, but then added:
"Yes, but just a coffee today."
"OK large iced coffee coming up!" said the barista, and she impressively set off on the drink without missing a beat or even a sigh.
As I walked out, I got a good look at the customer - a smiling, well-dressed 60-year-old who was too caught up in the excitement of being remembered and celebrated to realize she wasn’t getting what she really wanted.
We’ll all be there one day.
“I really like your bike.”
I was at a red light before the Williamsburg Bridge on my way home from work when a handsome couple on Citibikes pulled up next to me. The woman looked a few years older than I am, though I’m terrible at guessing ages since I’ve felt 25 for the past 4 years. Her boyfriend checked his phone next to her. I paused my podcast and turned my head:
“Thanks, I really like your bike, too.”
Now her boyfriend looked up and quietly studied me. The woman laughed and then put on a sarcastic voice:
“Uh, thanks, but it’s not mine. I borrowed it from a friend.”
The cars slowed down to our left. I turned on my podcast, and as I put my right foot on the pedal, I put on my most amiable smile and voice and said:
“New York City is not your friend.”
I meant it to be kinda funny but I’m probably an asshole though.
When I first started working in my office, tissues were provided by the company. A few months in, it was cut out of the budget, and I happily bought my own boxes of tissues. (I have this weird thing where I have a runny nose when I either step inside or outside a building.) I kept the tissue box on the left side of my desk where anybody could get them.
Soon, however, I started to get really annoyed when I’d run out of tissues. Pulling out the last tissue would oddly really stress me out, as I now would have to drag myself down to the pharmacy and buy a few more boxes. Also, that meant no more tissues for the rest of the day.
Curse my parents for being from equatorial climates!
One day, an incident really set me off. People I don’t work with were using our conference room, and one of them walked out straight to my tissue box and grabbed three tissues in quick succession. He then lightly wiped his nose and threw them out. That’s right - no blow, just an easy wipe, and into the garbage they all went. I was a little annoyed, and then HE DID IT AGAIN! Three tissues 1-2-3, scratch his nose, and into the trash! To top it all off, he finished the box! He then walked back in the conference room without even a word to me.
I was SO ANNOYED. I’m sorry your highness, you need three tissues just to wipe your nose? Three tissues is for a nosebleed, and it better have come after a right hook. Well, anyway, I then moved my tissue box from where anybody could get them on my left side, to my right side, behind my computer monitor.
I became that guy.
A few days ago, another person who I don’t work with was in our conference room, and she saw me blow my nose and set up a sting operation to see where I was getting my supply. She then walked over to me:
"I’m so sorry, but may I have a tissue?"
I put the box out and let her grab a tissue. Just one, I thought to myself.
She walked away, but then she embarrassedly skulked back and asked if she could have a couple more. She apologized greatly.
"Please, take as many as you need," I offered, as I again pulled the tissues out from behind the monitor.
She took a few, put them neatly in her pockets, and walked away.
I was off the next day. I arrived at my desk the day after to a fresh pack of travel tissues sitting on my keyboard. I turned crimson.
I now have a better idea of the face I was making as I offered that poor woman my box of tissues.
This my latest rejected McSweeney’s submission, entitled, “Regarding My Chair Breaking Apart in the Middle of My Interview.”