Friday, August 21, 2009

Dickchicken. Or "full head of teeth." Couldn't decide.

Tonight I learned two things.

One- I enjoyed having the "car called round."

Two- I want to work at the zoo.

I'm SORRY ADAM- that I have thus far been unable to come up with a pose next to to the Jon Hamm/water bus-stop that I feel is clever enough to take a picture of to send you.

Trust me, I try. Each time I pass one, and they are about 3 a block, I stop and stand in utter despair for about a minute trying to wrack my brain for amusing possibilities. So far the best idea I have come up with is to find a pitcher of water and pour it over my head while someone takes a picture of me standing next to old Jonny. But that would involve someone else holding my phone. Which x.

I have taken several pictures today of things that I felt were amusing. I sent these pictures to the people I thought would find them amusing as well. Have I heard anything in reply? NO. The excuse Tom will give is that he is in rehearsal.

One that I wanted to take a picture of but didn't as I elected to get inside somewhere instead of dying of sweat on the sidewalk was an enormous inflatable rooster on the corner by a Polish convenience store. Wanted to sling my arm around it's shoulders good-naturedly. Joseph wanted to call it, "Audra and her Cock." Which I felt was an economy sized can of worms to put up on facebook.

Yesterday I helped Sam move. Well, pack up. We decided via conference call at 2am that morning that he would call in sick to work with food poisoning. I was able to offer lots of tips on sounding convincingly ill on the phone. This is how I was able to be absent for most of fifth grade.
We spend a solid twenty minutes packing and then go out for refreshments. And to get boxes. He gets a bagel from a place called "Hot and Crusty." Everytime I see that title I think really hard for a little while. Feel sure there is some nastier name for that. Like, "Saggy and Crusty." But want to come up with a really good one before I decide.
We pack some more. I begin to stink. Because here, you can sit in a chair in front of a fan and still have your liver liquefied by the heat. Isn't really the heat so much I guess. Is that it is humid enough to choke a cat.
We then go out for lunch. To a very small newish pizza place a block from Sam's apartment called Artichoke. This place really entertains me because the counter is a height that my eyebrows can see over if I am fully on point in my orthopedic shoes. And they are high. Sam ordered our pizza with just his eyes showing. And the people behind the counter couldn't see over it either. But that piece of pizza, if married with a slice of Brunetti's- was the best pizza I have ever had. It was spinach/artichoke. And holy hell. I giggled and cried throughout the slice.
Which was a lot of giggling and crying because the slice was large enough that I was still eating for the next four blocks and through Sam's trips to Buffalo Exchange and some thrift store where he pawned off some old sweaters and wallets that appeared to be trash to me, but weren't.
Nothing takes me that long to eat. I was impressed. My mother, on the other hand, could easily spend an entire afternoon eating a radish slice. With knife and fork.
We pack some more. We both become furious and irrational. When this happens to Sam and I neither of us say a word. You can feel it. You know it will pass. And if either of us looks at the other we burst into giggles because we know we are being ridiculous.
At some point after I had thrown all the tupperware in the garbage and carefully removed his 4 foot porcelain/cement Madonna from the top of the kitchen cabinets, we decide to call it a day.
He walks me to the subway by way of a liquor store nearby called something like WASTED ON 1ST where he asks me if I would please go in and ask for boxes as they hate him in there now for his continued asking.
So, despite the fact that I am wearing men's XL basketball shorts and my orthopedic shoes, I gamely yank down my tank top a couple of inches in the front, lick the sweat off my teeth and sail inside. Sam is murmuring behind me, "Tits and teeth, Audra, tits and teeth." I approach the counter, cock a hip, tilt my head and with the dimples and drawl worthy of Plantation Atlanta O'Honaker say, "Hi! I'm movin', and I was just wondrin' if you had any little boxes around here that I could please take to help me out a little bit?"
I am immediately given the deed to the store.
So Sam goes into the back with the storekeeper's henchman while I fiddle around with the crates of wine at the counter and smile and sigh a lot.
He comes back momentarily with more boxes than you could shake a stick at, I simper, "Thank you SO much." And we are almost out when a really awesome Madonna song from the eighties comes on the radio. Without thinking I grumble in pure Audranian "Now, might be necessary to stay here and listen to this song."
Sam snatches me out of the store faster than I've ever been snatched anywhere.
I have no memory of what I did last night after I got home and took the world's longest shower. Think might have gone to bed - oh nope- went to Perry's to watch Project Runway.
Then tonight Joseph and I and his Penthouse magazine walked across the bridge to Brooklyn to hang out at Perry's. On our walk across the bridge he made sure I saw all the high points, like where the great oil spill of 1957 happened, and where Perry was mugged at knifepoint. Twice.
This is part of why I had a car called round to bring me home this evening.
We went out for sushi at a place called Wasabi in that had a framed photo on the wall of the entire staff surrounding John Travolta, a lone purple fish, and a bathroom where you got rained on while you washed your hands.
Then we played a lengthy game of cards called Phase 10. I'm going to teach Perry how to play Pounce so that we can have some diversion during our afternoons of making necklaces for Miley Cyrus.
Am going to go do that trapeze thing by the river I think. I looked it up today, and it is not nearly as expensive as I had thought it would be.
Ok. I can't see anymore. Downside of contacts of fans.

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