This is a video of comedian Billy Eichner raffling off sex with Paul Rudd. On numerous
occasions when people have been introduced to me,
I could feel their profound disappointment that I wasn’t Paul Rudd.
I once met Paul Rudd at a reading, and he was charming and funny and completely delightful.
There are several Twitter feeds for other Paul Rudnicks, most of whom seem to be scientists.
There used to be a clothing store in Beverly Hills called Rudnick’s Men and Boys, a phrase
which may appear on my tombstone.
When I was in college, there was a woman in the same town whose husband, also named
Paul Rudnick, had just passed away. Sometimes when people were trying to locate me,
they’d call her and ask to speak to Paul Rudnick,
until she finally told one of these unfortunate callers,
“Why are you tormenting me?”
My parents used to keep a bulletin board of envelopes, addressed to all the possible
misspellings of the name Rudnick, including Ridnick,
Radnick, Rodnick and the ever-popular Redneck.
Certain telemarketers still ask to speak to Mr. Redneck
and I always ask them, “Do you really think that there’s
a person named Redneck? And that he’d keep that name?”
