Anonymous asked: Would you please give devoted readers a day-in-the-life-of-Cary Randolph, written, of course, in your McInerney-esque style?

McInerney-esque? Now you flatter me. I am happy to give you a day in my life, but I can’t promise to evoke Jay; that’s for you to decide. 

You woke up at eight a.m. yesterday and spent the next six hours on the job hunt, sending pick-me emails and assisting in the hunts of others. (You believe strongly in “paying it forward” though it hasn’t yet earned karmic rewards.) In that time you also ate two meals - bagels with tofu cream cheese and lox being one of them - and wrote the first draft of a business plan, only your latest million-dollar idea and one that requires the immediate acquisition of a Canon Rebel T2i. (Hint, hint, to the angel investors.)

At three o’clock you drove to Jamie’s apartment to meet her new puppy Bear. You ran a five-mile loop through Forest Park and talked the entire time about your respective life goals, love lives, and plans to dominate the Arch City’s social scene. It was determined that you will soon move into her guest bedroom and together throw cocktail parties with reckless abandon, Bear serving as mascot and bearer (!) of unconditional affection.

At four-thirty you left to beautify for the evening. This process involved a long shower, a solo dance party in the kitchen, a homemade necklace, more dancing, hair, make-up, and wardrobe. Just as you opened the door to leave at six-thirty, however, you were hit with an overwhelming urge for more smoked salmon, so you spun on your heel and made a sandwich. You were then ten minutes late for everything.

Swung by Sole & Blues in the Loop to say hello to a friend before driving west to the Fashion Rules party at Neiman-Marcus. You sipped Peroni and stayed through the men’s spring show, devastated by the surplus of cargo shorts, many of them camo print.

Drove east again to the Chase Park Plaza and crashed Washington University’s Olin Business School annual ball. The invitation called for black tie and long dress; You wore a tee shirt and military jacket, but the Bacardi flowed freely and free of charge. You danced with an adjunct professor who told you that he and his wife, who was just nineteen when they met, would celebrate their 25th anniversary this spring. When asked what the secret was to such a successful marriage, he said, “She’s my best friend. She’s my equal on every level.” You felt incredibly lonely then and ordered another drink. Discussed American folk art with a first-year student from Poland and mistook pin stripes for knife pleats, and when the party moved next-door to Mandarin, made your Irish goodbye.

Ask. Answer. Shoot the shit.

  1. caryrandolph posted this