It's fitting that the city is drowning in rain today, as there is no joy in Edville. For I have learned some tragic news. Through GOOGLE, of all places! But since I haven't yet fully processed it, I'm going to put up the mindless beeps that I had scribbled down to put up. So here's your blog equivalent of marshmallow peeps, my weekend highlights:I saw a girl on Saturday, when the sun was still out in the morning, who looked exactly like a young Nicole Kidman. Just GORGEOUS. And not only was she beautiful, but she was dressed incredibly, too--she was working the blue jeans with thin heels look. I thought, as she hopped into her cab undoubtedly on the way to someplace uberfabulous beyong the realm of my understanding, "I would put up with so much crap from her if she were my best friend." And then I fantasized about her all weekend.
I hung out with The Inimitable Mark Baratelli Saturday. We drank and talked about career, pewern, Terri Schiavo... And we ran into a friend of mine who I'll call Bgobert. Bgobert was wearing a vest that looked like it was made from the same fabric as a cute $2 tie, a button down shirt that revealed a wife-beater underneath, jeans (I think), a brown curdoroy jacket, a hat and, the pièce de resistance, a fannypack. I said to Mark something like, "I wish I could know what he saw when he looked in the mirror tonight; I wish I could look at him and see the fabulousness that he saw." At the moment I was about 98% sincere. As I was saying it, however, I liked the 'fit' of the sentiment, so I decided to keep expanding on it, as if I genuinely did want to see everyone as the fabulous creatures they see themselves as (I think I've actually felt that way maybe 4 times in my life); also, I could sense that Baratelli was going to accuse me of being Fashion Mean, so I thought this was a good way to turn the conversation. Anyway, as I kept on that line, I have to say that I was genuinely amazed at the steaming stream of shit that poured from my mouth. I wonder why I never went into improv or extemporaneous speaking. It really was astounding--you had to be there.
After watching a coupla more episodes of Fat Actress, I have to say that in some way that show really comes off as real. And as part of my Life Enhancement Plan, I'm going to simply pretend that everything in the show has actually happened to me. Like in the last episode, I'm going to pretend to myself that I was actually there when Kirstey Alley had to give Blossom back her dog; that I was running with Kirstey Alley when she couldn't get Gwen Stefani to talk to her. I see no reason not to. I already feel like I know Kirstey Alley. I'm just taking it to the next level. I wonder if that means that I have to lean how to spell her name.
And those are the beeps I wrote down. I'll be back later with the sorrowful news when I figure out how I want to say it.
Beep!
Ed Shepp
No comments:
Post a Comment