Leezer

oh wee little man with the giant q-tip

won’t you clean the rims of my 1972 chevelle today

would that i had a man servant

to stroke my hair and sing olivia newton john songs

who wears a man-cape and rides to sturgis on his harley

 i would ride with him, my man servant

and when the turn-overs are baked i would remove them

with my ov-glove

If you’re like me, you’ve grown weary of Sunday evenings alone with a carton of Virginia Slims and a litre of Ketel One sorting your Carlsbad Caverns photos with one hand because you broke the other assaulting a parking lot attendant with a flash light.  Imagine my delight, then,  when last night I was able to break the tedium and watch the Eightieth Annual Academy of Arts and Sciences Awards Presentation Show. 

The annual Oscar telecast, not unlike an elderly eccentric aunt who rarely chews before swallowing and only occasionally wears pants but always drops a dollar in the mail to you every year on your birthday, never fails to horrify and delight us at one and the same time.

Case in point: the pre-Oscar red carpet interviews.  In an age when celebrities rarely possess a community college education not to mention a state driver’s license, the fact that most are nonetheless able to gracefully sidestep the dog-poo that is the entertainment channel-interviewer remains nothing short of miraculous.   

Here, I offer you but a sampling of questions posed to actors on the red carpet and challenge you to select the answer actually given by said celebrity:

Inane Question Number One: Ryan Seacrest to Jessica Alba: “Are you going to breast-feed your baby?”  Jessica’s response was:

(a)  None of your bee’s-wax Nosy Ned;

(b) No, I’m going to feed my baby shrimp tails and Corn Nuts;

(c)  Yes, and I’m going to sell my breast milk on e-bay to raise money for Darfur; or

(d) That’s a a rather personal question.

If you answered (d), you are correct.  [Fun fact: answer (a) was given by my husband when a co-worker asked him the same question about my lactation-plans].

Inane Question Number Two:  Unknown interviewer to Tilda Swinton:  “Who are you wearing tonight?”  Tilda’s response was:

(a)  Glad;

(b)  George Lucas;

(c)  Lanvin; or

(d) The National Pollution Discharge Elimination System (NPDES) Application Approval Board.

If you answered (c), you are correct.  [Fun Fact:  Tilda Swinton and I share the same birthday - November 5th.  She is older than I, and about four inches taller.]

Inane Question Number Three:  Gadfly Ryan Seacrest to John Travolta:  “You look amazing.  What is your work-out routine?”

(a)  As an Operating Thetan, I’m perpetually engaged in combat within the Galactic Confederacy on behalf of Xenu;

(b)  Chasing my man-servant, Paris, around the grounds with a pair of nail clippers and a cucumber;

(c)  Pilates; or

(d)  Two hours of weights, a half-hour of cardio each day.

The correct answer is (d).  Incidentally, doesn’t John Travolta look a lot like Curious George lately?

Final Inane Question:  Little Peter Pan Ryan Seacrest to Patrick Dempsey:  “You are usually Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected.  How do you calm your nerves on a night like this?”  Patrick’s answer was:

(a)  Xanax;

(b)  A trip to the supermarket to inhale the cans of whipped cream;

(c)  Meditation; or

(d)  Ten-minute interludes in the womens’ restroom with a few chapters at at time of Fear of Flying by Erica Jong.

The correct answer is none of the above.  I dislike Mr. Dempsey so much [I don't know why! Dont' send me hate mail!!] that I actually didn’t listen for his answer.

 There you have it.  The first installment of the Annual Post-Oscar Quiz.  I can’t wait until next year. Until then, I’m off to pass out samples of my breast milk to shoppers at Costco.

Dagmar stared at Louise, her face nearly touching the floor, rump in the air, and beheld the great woman’s flexibility.  His earlier disgust over the wall-to-wall Bandaids faded as he stared, transfixed by the veins bulging from behind her knees.

Have you lived here, long? he asked.

 Two years.

 Where are you from?

 Portland.

 Oregon?

 Maine.  My family has a wild blueberry farm dar.  I’z thought I’d see if I could be in some movies so I came out here.

 St. Paul?  Why not Hollywood or New York?

 I like Scandinavians.  There’s a lot of em here.

Dagmar wondered if celestial beings conspired in this wonderful accident that brought him to Louise’s door.  Dagmar was a full quarter Laplander, and while he wasn’t sure if Laplanders were officially Scandinavian, he thought it close enough.  He looked into her red-rimmed eyes. Ambivalent, he remained repulsed at her girth and the bald patches on her scalp, but was drawn to her inner light.

 Perhaps this is out of the ordinary, me being married and all, but would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? 

Exercise Two - Dialogue

Dagwood? Your name is Dagwood? Louise asked.

No, Dagmar, he responded.

Kmart? What kind of name is Kmart?

DAG-MAR, not Kmart.

Fubar? O.K. then. Phone’s over here.

Louise turned and shuffled toward the back of the house.  Dagmar evaluated her bottom, which was as wide as the Captains Chairs in his R.V.   She opened the door to a tiny room and waited for him to enter first.  What he saw next astonished and troubled him; covering one entire wall of the tiny eight-by-ten foot room were thousands of tiny Bandaids; not the normal-sized Bandaids that go on a finger or a knee, but the tiny ones that are useless unless to cover a shaving cut or a pimple.

 Go head.  Phone’s over there.  Louise pointed to a beige rotary phone on an old desk under a window much to high to see out of unless standing on a chair.

Why are there Bandaids on that wall?  Dagmar asked before he was entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Oh, those my used Bandeds.  I’ze got me some gout.  I put em on my leg right over the hurin part then when I’m done withem I stick em up dar.

I’m sorry to hear that.  It’s a local call, I’ll be just a minute.

Dagmar stared at Louise for the length of time it would take most to receive their signal to leave, but Louise stood facing Dagmar, her heavy forearms folded under her ample bosom, hips thrust forward.  Dagmar picked up the phone and dialed.

Jill?  Hi. It’s me.  You locked me out. Can you come back to let me in?

Louise rocked forward, shifting her weight from her heels to the balls of her feet and bent over at the waist, placing her palms on the floor in the Downward Dog position.

 Exercise One - Character Identification

       Louise always held a shrimp in her left hand when she jogged.  She believed it would come in handy if she ever encountered an un-welcomed man or dog.  The dog she could throw the shrimp to and he’d leave her alone.  The man, well, he’d smell the shrimp and just leave her alone.  Why she never held the shrimp in her right hand is as inexplicable as why she’d worked at the same job as an Olive Garden hostess for seventeen years or why she never unlocked her front door without first hollering to her cat, “Petey!  Mamsy’s home! Tickity-tock!”  Louise, at thirty-seven, was neither pretty nor interesting, but she never spent a single Friday night in her own bed for she was a whore.                

     Today was no different from any other Monday morning, her only day off during the week.  She awoke at seven, checked her My Space page, and took a Valtrex, an Ortho Cyclen, and a Centrum 100 before her feet touched the floor.  She fed Petey a half can of Fancy Feast and ate six Chips Ahoy cookies.  She turned on Good Morning America and said a silent prayer that Charlie Gibson would see her through the television and hop on the next plane to St. Paul to marry her. 

     But a sharp knock at the door interrupted her prayer/daydream and she paused before she decided to answer it.  Through the peep hole she saw a bald man wearing a red track suit; his head was dwarfed by his beakish nose as he squinted through his side of the peep hole.  She swung the door open and asked, “May I help you?”

         “Hi, um, my name is Dagmar  and I just moved-in next door.  Seems my wife locked me out of the house when I was out running this morning.  I was wondering if I could use your phone?”