PASTORI-I, WHERE ARE YOU? I’ve been missing my pal, Pastori-i, whom I’ve discussed at length on this blog. Put it this way, had he a vagina, I would’ve bought us Best Friends Forever necklaces six months ago. Despite the fact that he wears lipstick and heels, his anatomy is such that a shared BFF necklace could never be. Besides, I’m scared of his lovely girlfriend. And we’re not really best friends. But his absence this week was sorely felt, as I limped through the days with no one to make fun of me for liking the Killers and the Shins. So you can imagine my happiness upon hearing that the Notorious Pastori-I was back in town from his business trip. PENCOPAL: How’d the trip go? PASTORI-I: Picture this: me, with a bunch of crazy-ass partying maniacs, a top shelf bar, and a company credit card. PENCOPAL: Oh, so you mean you ended up in a skeevy motel with two trannies, a small mountain of coke, and Divine Brown? PASTORI-I: No, it was two trannies (post op, of course) and your mom. Drugs are bad, mmmkay? Anyway, at one point, I was in the back of a limo in Miami, screaming "Lean Back!" and doing the Fat Joe dance after leaving a restaurant that instantly turned into a dance club at the stroke of 11. PENCOPAL: You got trashed and did the “Lean Back” in front of co-workers? E-mail me your resume, ASAP. There’s at least a janitorial position here at The Company. You’re going to need a job, fool. Besides, wasn’t your trip to Pensacola? How the fuck did you end up in Miami? PASTORI-I: We have our ways. It gets better: by the end of the night, we’re at a club and I’m yelling at the top of my lungs for the DJ to "play some motherfucking Fat Boys." PENCOPAL: Mediabistro.com/careers. ASAP. That reminds me, Disorderlies was one of my favorite movies when I was a kid. Remember when Buff the Human Beat Box bashes the security guard in the skull and says, “Fat head to bed.” Best part ever. PASTORI-I: Easily amused, Pencopal, that’s what you are.