2006-05-13 @ 11:46 a.m.
Thanks Andria for putting thoughts of Tom Cruise in my head. I had been totally out of touch with television this week. I was just vaguely aware that “Mission Impossible: The Impossible Task of Believing that Tom Cruise is Sane” had just arrived at theatres and that his “wife” Katie had just given birth to L. Tom Hubbard III, except in girl form. Oh who are we kidding. The baby and Tom probably have more in common than we think. And then yesterday when I was walking through the yuppie grocery store I was inexplicably drawn to a copy of GQ which had a picture of Tom on the cover. The pictures were all like “Top Gun”, circa 20 years later. You know, with Tom in a black 1960’s suit and a skinny black tie out in a desert against a black classic Malibu. It was very Rat Pack. And then there were those damn huge bicuspids. My God man, why don’t you get those filed down before you hurt someone?
Anyways, I had this dream last night. And I’ve been having memorable ones lately. And in this dream I stopped at a McDonald’s Restaurant. Now that is a dream, because I very rarely stop there anymore since I’ve been working on my cholestoral (down from 290 to 170....yay me!!) but also because for some reason the employees in the McDonald’s in The Village, (which has greek columns and gold leafing by the way) never wear gloves. They just take the money, which has like 1.9 trillion germs on it, go make your $1.00 sundae, whilst sticking their dirty fingertips inside the cup, pumping carmel into it, then wiping the excess, then unexpectedly sneezing a few boogers out over the general vicinity, then wiping their hands again and then snapping on the lid. I always gingerly take the damn thing in a napkin and try not to think about how many E’colis are swimming around on my 4” cup thingie, because I do like to enjoy an ice cream sundae if I’m having a bad day.
Oh, so the dream. So I went to this McDonald’s. It wasn’t any one I had ever seen before. It was surrounded by trees and a large parking lot. I went inside and there was some kind of kid’s party going on. It was noisy and crowded except on one side which was kind of cut off from the other. I remember going up to get a drink I had forgotten and two of the McDonald’s employees where making out and French kissing behind the counter and I was like “(ahem)....(AHEM)” And the guy had his hand all the way up the girl’s shirt....looking for condiments, I guess. It was all very chaotic, because in front of me was “Last Tango in Fresno” and behind me was like the world’s biggest kid’s birthday party. And yet, neither seemed aware of each other.
As I walked back to my seat I happened to look out the window and could see a long, black limo parked right up against the building and thought, how weird, a limo at McDonald’s. I then suddenly saw a very tall African American gentleman, dressed in a 1960’s black suit with a skinny tie walking in front of a very, very, very short white man. He had Rayban sunglasses on. I had to look twice, but by God, it was Tom Cruise...in McDonald’s. And for some crazy reason, I was very. very excited. Tom Cruise! Tom Cruise! Whee!
I then tried to devise a plan to somehow just cross paths with the Tomster. Make it all seem natural. Because I definitely didn’t want to come across as some desperate, frothing Tom Cruise fan. So I got my purse and started to move closer to where he was now sitting, with his sunglasses still on. The thing about meeting celebrities is to act nonchalant. I’ve met many of them out in California and as long as you don’t make any loud, shrieking noises, they’ll generally will be pretty good about giving you an autograph, even if its against the Doctrines of Scientology.
So why was I sitting in McDonalds, trying to think of ways to placate the biggest, most egotistical asshole in the world? Hell, if I know. This was a dream after all...remember? I then needed something back up at the counter, so I walked back up, and the slutty couple were still making out over by the milkshake machine, so I just turned around and started back to where I was sitting and guess what? Tom Cruise had just disappeared. Just like that! And I didn’t even get his autograph. And I remember in my dream I was truly disappointed. Can you imagine? Me disappointed by NOT meeting Tom Cruise. Weird. So no more looking at Tom Cruise pictures in magazines, because I think the scientologists sent woobies into my brain.
Other than that, yesterday was fairly uneventful. I did some laundry out at Colonial. While the laundry was in the dryer, I walked over to the library with the new coffee nook. They’re having a Name-Our-Yuppie-Coffee-Nook contest and for some, again, inexplicable reason, I picked up one of the entries and wrote down “Mallard Landing Cafe”. Ha! What’s funny is the prize is something like 150 lattes. I don’t even drink lattes. I wonder if they’ll convert that into cash when I win the damn thing? Because that would be a totally awesome name considering its near a duck pond full of Mallard Ducks and its in a town thats kind of like Knots Landing. Anyways, I have until May 30th to win my inevidible prize.
And then last night was the official opening of our yearly art show at the community center. It was a very small venue compared to where we usually have our show. Instead of being in a huge 50X40 gallery space, it was in a tiny 10X13 landing by an elevator. The trade off is, it will probably be seen by more people since its in a community center. I had two of my paintings there. The Keith Richards one and the Billie Holiday. The Keith Richards one was hanging crooked. How appropriate. I do hope its remedied though. As much as I like being a rebel and being unique, I don’t particularly like my artwork to be hanging crooked in an art show. Of course, once I remember a photo I submitted for a show at the State Fair in California was hung completely upside down. True, it was a nature photo of a bunch of sticks, but still ya damn idiot hanging it. Didn’t you notice that gravity would have been an issue if the sticks were at such an odd angle?
We only had a small turn out last night and our Fearless Art Leader was a little perturbed because Charlemagne, who had hosted the art class Wednesday, had forgotten to leave the keys at the prescribed secret location, so we couldn’t get to where the CD player was. Thus no music. So once we all looked at the artwork, we all just stood around looking at each other somewhat blankly, except perhaps the woman carrying a bunny in her arms (??). I did get to chat with “L” the hippie chick who had a couple of small drawings including this hilarious characture of George W. Bush dressed as a clown holding a Halloween candy bag that said “Trick or Treaty”. We can almost always find things to talk about. I guess this last Wednesday night...the one I missed for my long nice Spring walk, was yet A.N.O.T.H.E.R. night with the Nazi Model. I think in the last 7 weeks, she’s been there about 5 of them and I think people are getting really, really sick of her. “L” said that the class had been full at the beginning, but very few people stayed for the last pose of the evening.
Anyways, in trying to come up with small talk amongst the people who were there I did meet this one young African American woman who had the largest, most unusual green eyes. They were so large, they were almost spooky. And she was kind of other-worldly herself. She was listening as “L” and I was talking and occasionally laughing softly. And then suddenly she turned to me and said, “Did you know that a good way to flush out schizoprenics is to burn sandlewood incense?” And then she rapidly added that “rapists don’t like the smell of pee.”
See, I always have alot of trouble coming up with things to say socially. I guess I just really haven’t quite tapped into my full potential of “Things to Say at Art Openings” yet.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty