It seems as though people (friends) think of me as the unmaterialized facade of some contorted image of intimidation. I've been asked in the past few weeks alone for help with situations involving the temper of a psychotic boyfriend, ridding an apartment of three Irish subletters continuously causing a disturbance, and police-help with an attempted robbery in Bayside.

It struck me that although I continuously receive these calls, in none of those situations was I actually able to provide any help. I am, but a facade.