Psychotic MakeBelieve

I was listening to the radio this morning, as I always do on my way to work. I was winding through the streets of Silverlake, admiring all the murals and averting my eyes from the more aggressive-looking street people. And all of a sudden, there was this woman calling Howard Stern. She told her story, which involves mental illness, Princess Di, and Star Search. Riveting.

This woman has a phenomenal singing voice, so she claims. If her speaking voice was any indication, then her singing voice must sound like a cross between breaking glass and nails on a chalkboard. Lovely. She was spending all her time trying to find ways to audition for the new season of Star Search. She was convinced that, after she won, she would be crowned Princess of America. When that happened, Princess Di would come out of hiding with Tupac Shakur in tow. The End.

Here's a fun game to play today: Faking Mental Illness. Don't get me wrong, my darlings, I am not making light of the burdens that many people in this world carry on their crazy backs everyday...but for a minute, lighten the fuck up. Make up a crazy person fantasy. Want to hear mine?

My recent obsession with Will and Grace leads me to believe that I live in the same apartment building as Will, Grace, Jack, and Karen. Every time I walk in the gates I am convinced I see them walking in the other direction, hurrying off to a new wacky adventure. When they're not off at their gay cooking classes or absconding with pornographic materials starring themselves, I have them over for tea and crumpets, and we all just laugh and laugh. The role of Karen is played by my sock monkey, and my plastic flamingo Arnold does the remaining characters. Arnold went to Juliard, you know.

Anyway. I become convinced that if Karen/sock monkey will give me the code to the nearby Savings and Loan's vault, I can get she and Grace enough money to decorate Karen's mom's apartment the right way (without Rosario having to lug stuff up the stairs). Well, wouldn't you know, she sends me the code via their secure internet site (that I only had to spend a couple minutes hacking), I borrow the money from the bank, and then I wish Karen/sock monkey a happy journey as she blasts off into space on that beautiful unicorn. I also take a stray marmot hostage and begin calling it Just Jack. We eat crumpets (or stale pigeon doo) until we pass out up in the apartment.

That was off the top of my head, people. Come on, let's play. You be C. Thomas Howell and I'll be his broken, sad soul. No? George Clooney and Thomas Jefferson? Anything?

You guys are no fun.

party poopers. g