Strangers with Candy

Did you know that Smokey Robinson has his own line of frozen dinners? I didn’t either. Not only is he an accomplished song writer and singer with groovy green eyes, but he has now joined the ranks of Mama Celeste, Marie Callendar and Linda McCartney. Good job, I say.

 

 I keep a little notebook full of ideas for blogs and “to-dos” and thangs. But sometimes I just list off a bunch of random bits that, a month and a half later, make no sense. Here’s what I’ve got for 3/5/07: breaching whales, mall horror, cow birds, and Mexican kidnapping.  Also on 3/5/07, ” ‘White Boy’ flossing his teeth with Marianna’s hair.” That I do remember. My friend Wayne suggested we head to The Holding Co. for goodbye drinks for a friend of ours because, “nothing ever happens there.” It just so happens that was wrong and we encountered a slew of crazy characters including one who reminded me of White Boy from “I Love New York”. If you don’t know who this is, you will. I sense star power. So, this crazy White Boy comes in the bar swinging a trophy over his head, his tie undone and his shirt untucked. I think he came and sat at our table because he saw Wayne—the only black guy around for probably 5 blocks. I think the first thing he said when he plopped down drunk as hell was, “I’m the ghetto-est white guy you ever met.” And then he told us he was from Vallejo, so automatically, we gave him some ghetto points.

 

As is the custom, Marianna got accosted by this crazy drunk and he actually flossed his teeth with her hair. Accidentally. And when he pulled away he said, “Damn, I think there’s a piece of meat in your hair!” Are you freakin’ kidding me? Who the hell does this happen to?  I forgot to mention that as he was talking to us at, his gum fell out of his mouth and on to the table. He picked it up and flung it over his shoulder and it almost hit a waitress. I think the excitement of winning the coveted office trophy got to him. I can’t even imagine what it was for.

 

Right. And the next note-to-self entry would be 4/1/07. “St. Stupid’s Day.” Right! So, I was hanging out with Jim at the beach and we were watching this angry man angrily fly his kite. She thought the kite might have been an extension of his penis in some way and he was demonstrating how adept he was at using it. He was an exhibitionist, she said. I didn’t really get that. But it gave me the lamest idea. I texted Mario to tell him “With Lisa (Jim) at the hospital. Will call you.” Of course he called me worried and I made up this story that Lisa got stoned at the beach and walked too close to a maniac flying his kite and the kite string…it cut a slice of her face off! It was a terrible April Fool’s Day.

 

The thing is that weird things do happen and Jimbo does often get herself into weird situations like getting skunked or losing her phone on the sidewalk or getting forced to feed feral cats by a feral cat enthusiast.  The other day she was trying to feed the meter and somehow this was confusing because she was trying to stuff quarters into the keyhole of her car door.  The one thing about Jim that is amazing is her unrivalled driving skills as I really appreciate someone who can smoke a bowl while avoiding a cop and getting us to “Strangers with Candy—the Movie” on time.

 

Unfortunately her car is the Doggie-Deathmobile.  Mar and I got in the other day and there was an inch-thick layer of dirty dog pelt covering the whole interior.  There was mud too.  And I began to die and I think that’s when I lost my sense of smell again.  For a while she used to glitterize her car and would glue weird funny little shrines all over the inside and when we’d drive with the windows open the glitter would kick up and we’d come out looking shiny as hell.  It is a weird world—Jim says we’re like the girls in “Beautiful Creatures” only slightly less homicidal. 

 

The last few words in my little notebook?  “Lunging madwoman, ugly art, an unfortunate man.”  I think I know what I was referring to, but I’ll save that for another day.

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