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2005-08-18 @ 11:13 p.m.
being the center of the universe ain't easy


Its true I think I'm the Center of the Universe, but Iíve never actually heard someone else utter those words until last night. And who better to say them then my ol' buddy Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy. And he totally believes it. And I guess we're supposed to too. Although last night I was about ready to take a sharp instrument and deviate his septum. Why? Because when I arrived at my art class at 7 p.m. last night, there were just a bunch of people standing around. There was no stage set up. No easels. No art desks. No lighting. Just people randomly standing around. And I was a little freaked out. I couldn't figure out why there was no "official" host running the show. Plus there was not one, but two models standing around waiting including The Nazi Model, who had just modeled two weeks ago. And I was wondering, why she was back so soon. And then there was our "unisex" model. She's a girl, and she certainly has the girly parts and is actually quite naturally pretty, but she refers to herself as a unisex model. I guess because she doesn't shave her arm pits and she could hide the al queida in her prodigious pubes.

At first I wasn't sure what to do. I was, after all, a paying customer last night. I was also bringing in some artwork for our show which opens next week, so I was loaded down with stuff as well. Finally after about 10 minutes I got the brilliant idea to call our Fearless Art Leader on my cell phone. Unfortunately, I got his answering machine. He's been really sick in the last week. Another 5 minutes went by and then I hit upon the idea that I should call Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy since he also occasionally hosts the class too. And amazingly, I knew who our missing host was, as soon as he answered the phone, because when I told Charlemagne there was no one at the Center to set up the class and people were just standing around, he started screaming FUCK!!!!!!!! about 15 times. It was like the first time Iíve ever been able to actually HEAR someone on my crappy cellphone. I guess he had forgotten that he was supposed to host. I then innocently added that I would have started things, but I didn't have keys, because (cough) he did.
Fortunately he only lives a block from the Center and said he'd be right over. Although I'm not sure which route he took...except maybe one through Antarctica....because it took him like 15 frickin' minutes to get there. In the meantime, the Nazi model had left in a huff. Additional people were coming in asking if they could leave off artwork for the upcoming show. I was worried that people were nervous about leaving their work unattended, so I promised them that if nobody showed up with keys, I would take their artwork home with me so it would be safe. Ha! The week I'm moving!

I was already stressed as it was. I had just had one of those violent PMS related sobbing events in my bathroom right before I had left for my class. I didn't get to see "A" this week, so I've been trying to buffer all this stress by myself. I've tried talking to my mother, but she's been planning this big party next Saturday for our local has-been movie actor. Oh this guy is rich. He thinks he's totally all that...you know, like actors tend to think. Personally I think he's a perv. He's in his 60's and dances with all my mom's old lady friends, grinding his pelvis into their old lady loins, and damn near running his hand down the front of their shirts. If anyone else did that, they would probably get slapped, but since he's this former Hollywood "D" list actor, everyone is supposed to swoon. I just think he's a perv. Did I mention, he wears blue suede cowboy boots and drives a 1960's Cadillac with bull horns on the grill? And we're not even in Texas.

But anyways, my mother has been talking and talking and talking about this party. And for some reason, "Bob the Has-Been Movie Star" has inexplicably put her in charge of calling over 40 people and figuring out what everyone was bringing. And she doesnít even know him that well. And of course, its been drama...drama...drama. Like who's invited....and who's not. We even had to stop and get a yellow legal pad the other day, so that my mother could write everyone's name down. I asked her why she couldn't just write it on a piece of regular paper. And she said, "No lines, witty!!!" Of course, how stupid of me. And God forbid, she should write potato salad next to the wrong name.

So needless to say, I have gotten totally sick of hearing about the party and have asked her not to talk about it. Very specifically. As in don't say the "Bob" word. Like oh, Mary the Amnesiac wasn't invited to Bob the Has-Been Movie Star's party but don't tell her best friend Enid the Accordian Player (like who am I going to tell...Guard Cat?) Or I need to buy balloons for Bob the Has-Been Movie Star's Party so that people can spot his house from the street (hint: Look for the obnoxious overwrought white Caddie out in the driveway with bull horns). Or, my personal favorite, Bob the Has-Been Movie Star asked me to come over early so that I know the layout of his house so that I can tell people where the bathroom is (yes, he actually asked her to do this). I think the guy is taking advantage of my mother. I keep asking her how much he is paying her for all her work. She did score quite a coup the other day though, when I was over at her house. I guess another local "celebrity" who does Frank Sinatra and Neil Diamond impressions accepted her invitation and will be stopping by after his show at a mall opening or something. Can you imagine that? The thrill of having Bob the Has-Been Movie Star and Frankie, the Eye-talian Neil Diamond impressionist at the same party??? Woot!! But oh darn....I'll be busy that day. Got me some serious cat fur vacuuming to do.

So, anyways, back at the community center....So we were waiting and waiting and waiting for Charlemagne. You can usually hear him coming, because he's always running at top speed and making as much noise as humanly possibly. Why? Because he's Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy. I did feel stressed though. I felt like the people waiting were somehow blaming me for failing at get the class started....you know, since Iím a Board Member and somehow important and omnipotant. Finally at around 7:30 I could hear the heavy clop, clop, clop of Charlemagne bounding up the stairs. He was sweating profusely and was still saying "fuck" about 3000 times. How totally professional. I told him to calm down and I would help him get stuff set up. I also collected some money, although I think we took a bath financially, because quite a few people didnít pay last night. But can you blame them? It was only after everything finally settled down that Charlemagne leaned over and whispered, ďIím not used to all this shit. Iím used to being the Center of the Universe.Ē

Oh, me too, Charlemagne, me too.



the unisex chick.


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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty

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