Wednesday, May 26, 2010

A Royal Calamity

Oh the webs people weave...

This past week we learned that the happiest divorced couple in the world is gonna be happy no more. Fergie was caught in a sting operation selling access to her ex-husband Prince Andrew. Does she harbor such intense hateful feelings towards him that she would discard any sense of dignity for the almighty money? Did she actually think she’d never get caught?

Oh royalty oh royalty what has happened to thee?

First there was Diana and her bad behavior and now it’s Fergie. Are the men of Windsor that blind to money grubbing gold diggers?

For a mere pittance Fergie would promise you the opportunity to shake Andrew’s hand at a charity auction.

For a little more cash I believe Fergie would get your photo taken along side the Prince at a charity auction, and have it autographed personally by the Prince.

For a bit more cash I hear Fergie would allow you the opportunity to enjoy tea and crumpets with the Prince on a Thursday afternoon after he’s taken his afternoon nap.

For a sizable increase in a cash donation Fergie would sell you Andrew’s email address, and his password to the royal website where the royals share their inner most thoughts with each other.

For a whole lot of cash I’ve learned Fergie will get you a pair of Andrew’s unwashed Calvin Klein bikini briefs with a guarantee that DNA testing would prove the royal jewels sweated inside the designer pouch.

For a ton of cash I hear Fergie would not only give you the underwear but allow you to sneak into the royal palace and watch through a peep hole as the Prince showered, shaved, and... well, he is a man and he does have sexual needs.

Friends are saying Fergie’s fragile and desperate and in a very bad place. No shit. Her royal ass is gonna be thrown out of the royal family once and for all, and she deserves it. Shame on you, Fergie, shame on you.

Monday, May 17, 2010

I Dreamed a Hat

I’ve always loved hats. I think they give style and attitude. And for the past year whenever I’ve been in a store that sells hats I’ve tried them on searching for the perfect hat for my particular head.

I’ve tried on fedoras, berets, baseball caps, dunce hats, knitted hats, and anything resembling a hat.

I quickly learned it’s not easy finding the perfect hat.

Well that has all changed.

Last week I was having a recurring hat dream, and in that dream I was wearing a straw hat with a black felt rim. It was a hat that made me feel special. It was the perfect hat for my not-so-perfect head. Wherever I went in that hat in that dream people said, “Hey Michael, that’s a cool hat!”

This past Sunday after going for brunch a friend and I decided to hike the arroyo in Pasadena. As we hiked along there in the middle of the path was a hat on the ground. At first I thought I was hallucinating, a combination of too much coffee and french toast, but after blinking numerous times I realized my sanity was still in tact and there before was a hat, a straw hat with a black felt rim. It was the hat from my dream.

What joy. What bliss.

I slowly picked it up and caressed it carefully. There was no sign of wear, and no signs of bug infestation. It looked brand spanking new. I didn’t know what to do... put it on? I let my instincts take over and onto my head it went. I felt style. I felt attitude. I kept it on.

As I continued on my hike a little boy on his father’s shoulders hiked passed me. He looked at me and said, “That’s a cool hat.”

The prophecy has been fulfilled.

Friday, May 07, 2010

Bathroom Girls

Last week I went to the premiere screening of a small independent film. There was the requisite red carpet, though tiny and a bit worn, and a few paparazzi types snapping photos in hopes that some day - sooner rather than later - there’d be a scandal involving one of the unknown cast members (involving sex, drugs, and a government official) so the pics would be People or US Weekly or National Enquirer worthy.

Once in my seat I began wondering if the film would totally suck, be semi-sucky, or completely surprise me and not be sucky at all. To help pass the time I people watched giggling at the wannabes who were pretending to be enraptured with the people they were speaking to all the while looking over their shoulders in hopes that someone better would come along.

Fake smiles. Air kisses. Designer knockoffs.

Suddenly two women plopped down beside me. Their high energy was contagious. They were giddy, happy, and friendly. As it turns out they had parts in the film - their first motion picture - as Bathroom Girl #2 and Bathroom Girl #3. I asked about Bathroom Girl #1 and they didn’t remember there being a Bathroom Girl #1. Hmmm, maybe the actress they hired as Bathroom Girl #1 was shitty and they had to flush her I thought.

The movie started and whenever there was a bathroom scene both girls would breath heavily, anticipating... and then the scene would pass and they were nowhere to be seen.

When the film ended (thankfully) I could hear the disappointment in their breathing. Even though I thought the film was pretty sucky I did have a pang of sympathy for the Bathroom Girls.

At the after party they excitedly told me the director assured them their scene was going to be part of the DVD extras.

Oh the joys of pursuing an acting career.