Saturday, October 16, 2010

A Day in the Life

The next day I booked work on a show called "The Daily Habit." I couldn't smoke because I couldn't find my pipe or lighter, so I showed up sober. This didn't help me "tolerate" the girl I had to sit next to for the first half of the show. She kept stroking her hair.

It didn't stop for FOUR hours. She just pulled on the same section of hair over and over and over again. I started quietly saying, "Stop stroking your hair. Stop . . . stroking . . . your . . .hair." Nothing. She kept stroking her hair.

One of the audience members, was a sunburned hippie named Erich. Matt was there with his girlfriend, and as we walked to the cafe for lunch break, he hit my arm and pointed at Erich. "That guy is a triple dip." I said, "On what?" Matt said, "LSD. Gotta be!"

Erich was standing in the courtyard with his hands clasped in prayer and lifting them up to the sun. Later, while we waited outside the studio, he started dancing in a circle like a Cherokee Indian. First, he was talking about how they have treatments for cancer in South America that would trip you out then totally heal you. He claimed, those people are often "capped" for distributing the cure of cancer to Americans. Then was going on about asking the universe for something and how it will provide.

"If you ask it for money, happiness, lightness, it will provide. If you tell yourself you don't need something, like 'I'm fine without money.' The Universe won't give it to you. If you say you need money. Money will come to you."

Of course this strikes a chord with me, I would be perfectly happy if I had a little more money coming in to cover my bills. He saw me watching him.

I said, "I agree."

Then he approached me, "I like that. I like agreement. Like you . . . I want you. I want oneness with you. I want to marry you. I want to look at you and then see me."

Matt brought him some water. Erich, "Water, thank you." I asked, "Did you ask the universe for that water?"

Erich said, "Yes! I want male friendliness. Soft, gentle males around me, to be around me."

We were escorted into the studio with the hopes that Matt and I could sit side by side and laugh at Erich. We were placed apart from each other but I still had a view of Erich, who had his legs crossed and fingers upright like a Hindu god. When the band came on to play, Erich jumped up, first throwing both arms over his head, then throwing his whole upper torso up and down like a broken doll doing what looked like a 'torso bang.' (I guess the torso equivalent to a head bang)

I laughed so hard I cried. The guys next to him, two black dudes and a white guy all dressed in blue button up tops, laughed hysterically, leaning into each other like knocked over bowling pins. The girl immediately to his right looked forward, serious and stoic. Never once did she break her soldier facade.

When we left, he stopped to touch and quietly speak to each bushel on the way to the Fox parking lot. As we were filling out our vouchers, I asked to borrow his pen. I said, "I asked the universe for this pen and it gave it to me."

He said, "That's right. You are happy."

I said, "I am happy but worried about my finances."

He said, "I give you financial security. I wish upon you money to take care of your bills."

I said, "Thank you."

He said, "So, how do you get more work like this?"

Yeah . . . great follow up question.

Exhausted from the Vegas trip and everything, I drove home and was able to book another audience job the next day in Irvine. It was close to Abe, so I asked him if he would join me. He did.

I had to get up at 5am to brave through an hour and a half of traffic to get lost on the Marine base the show was filming on. I showed up and waited for Abe who joined me in line. Audience work. Pot. And Abe. It all just comes together now, doesn't it?

Me: "You know what I read yesterday. Once you achieve menopause, you start losing estrogen. Major amounts of estrogen. And as a result, your vocabulary gets smaller, your memory fades and your brain actually shrinks."

Pause for dramatic effect. Abe shook his head smiling.

Me: "Then . . . THEN, we lose testosterone too, which means we lose our sexual drive and orgasms become weaker and less frequent. WHAT THE FUCK!? I am going to lose my mind and my sex drive." Seriously, what is there left to live for?

Abe: "I don't know what to say, I haven't had protein today so I can't really take in these deep thoughts."

Me: "Do you want to fornicate later?"

Abe: "After I eat."

I adore him.

We waited in line for an hour, and then the audience wrangler said we could come back at 1pm. There were a lot of people lined up with tickets to see the show. I guess we were just seat fillers.

We walked away and looked at our watch. It was 9:24am.

We went back to his place, smoked more pot and had more sex. Then he found this vegan cafe nearby (The Avanti Cafe) and took me out for this amazing lunch. Vegan pizza, cream soda and the vegan dessert platter (which consisted of sweet almond cake, chocolate almond tart and a brownie). At this point we were late, so we stocked the desserts in his back seat and drove back to set.

We waited for an hour and then were let go for the full pay of the day.

I didn't spot any of my regulars, probably because it was in Irvine. Abe was talking to a guy next to us and I had tuned them out until the guy said, "This kind of work isn't so bad."

I whipped around, "It's the best job in the world. Seriously. I heard someone this morning complain about not getting paid for lunch. No one gets paid for lunch. Have they done any other job?"

Abe laughed and the guy nodded in agreed.

The guy said, "You could study while doing this job or write."

I said, "I have been catching up on my literature and every once in a while . . . (with attitude here) I take a nap."

After we collected our money, Abe eyed the Lamborghini in the lot. He was talking about he specialty hood, and the console and blah blah blah. He said, "I just got paid $64 to talk to you and look at this Lamborghini."

I said, "No, you got paid to smoke pot, have sex with your girlfriend, eat an amazing lunch AND look at this Lamborghini. What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?" He smiled.

I followed him home and we just hung out. His roommates came in Youngin' and T.

Youngin invited me to his rap show, which, SERIOUSLY, I am dying to see so I can blog about it. I said I had to go home and take care of my animals.

Youngin', "My girl Jessica is like that, too. She says she has to take care of her 3 cats. I give her the toodaloo."

Me, "The toodaloo?"

Youngin', "Yeah, you seen Mrs. Doubtfire? (waves in the air) (high pitched British accent) "Toodaloo. So you know what T is going to be for Halloween? A baseball player with really huge balls."

T came in briefly holding the bong in his hand like a trophy.

T, "Hey you! I haven't seen you for a while. How was Vegas?"

Smoke. Cough.

T, "Sorry to cut this short, but I have to fuck off at my mom's." He left.

They really should have their own cartoon on TV.

Abe looks a lot like Jesus. He has the beard, sure, but its the high cheek bones and narrow chin. Its very Willem Dafoe circa 'Temptation of Christ.' He also has a spiritual vibe going on.

During our 7 day first date, he asked about all my pictures of Jesus hanging around.

Me, "Its not about religion. I am just kinda . . . hot for him."

Abe said, "Do I remind you of him?"

I said, "Kinda." He laughed.

So, obviously, I suggested that Abe be Jesus for Halloween and I would be a black Jew. I thought there was a yin yang to the whole thing.

Abe, "Once I went to a toga party at a frat house and that was weird."

Me, "You looked like Jesus?"

Abe, "Well, they said I looked like Moses. I brought this big stick with me and it looked like a staff. I hadn't shaved in like 3-4 days."

Me, "Why did you bring a big stick with you?"

Abe, "I don't know . . . I don't know why I brought it. But yeah . . . Moses. Then some dude hit on me. That was weird."

***

Oh, alright readers. Its dark outside now and I have a head cold. This wasn't a graceful ending but it made me laugh so- I am pulling a George Costanza. Goodnight!




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