ihavebeenfloated

Well now that this whole redesign business is done with, it’s suddenly ten at night and I find myself… with… nothing… to… do.

This is where my eyes dart nervously around the room with the camera way too close to my face, and you catch a very slight lip quiver right at the bottom of the frame and you’re thinking, “Uh oh, I bet something terrible is going to happen.”

But, instead, the camera pulls out, I sigh, lean back in my chair, and stare at my fingers for a minute before gnawing away at them with a vicious reserve and a frantic look in my eyes.

So it goes.

The pilgrimage to The Rocky Horror Picture Show with Greg and Chandler last night was entertaining, even if it ended at something like six thirty in the morning on a bit of a sour note in my book.

Greg, unfortunately, was not picked to go up on stage for the virgin sacrifice. Pity for him.

I did meet a rather entertaining, and rather hellishly attractive, black (cough, African American, cough) woman in line who, for a while, I was dead sure was going to try to jump my shit, but unfortunately for me she did not. By the end of the night I was covered in lipstick kisses from her, but then again, so were Greg and Chandler, so I don’t feel too special. I don’t think I’ve ever flirted with anyone so brashly in my life. Her panties were adorable. I’ll probably see her again in a month or two.

What was her name..? Eh… Oh well.

I spent the majority of the show outside of the theater, leaning up against a wall, playing a non-practicing mime. This is the wordy way to say, “I stood there like a wallflower with nothing to say to anyone, even to the really attractive chicks, who were, undoubtedly, all underage, who I desperately wanted to make out with regardless.”

Wait… Wordy… Shit.

But I had a good time. I got a bit of my sexually frustrated aggression out on Chandler’s ass with that black chick’s belt. That felt good. She’s got little belt holes imprinted across her ass, I guess. I can’t help but say that with a smile on my face.

There’s this one girl there, Randi, barely sixteen years old. She stands there for fifteen some odd minutes with her ass in the air just getting the shit whipped out of her by this older guy on security. It was one of those things that’s like “WOOHOO! This is hilarious and awesome all at once!” for the first two minutes, then it turns into, “OK, this is getting a little creepy, can we please stop now?” around the ten minute mark, then you progress to, “Fuck you guys, I’m going home,” at fifteen minutes. I walked back inside, came back out about ten minutes later, and she’s still getting her ass whipped.

Will I ever understand? No, I wont, but then again, I don’t think it matters if I do.

My mime make up went over fairly well I guess. I felt good about it. I walked past some guys walking in and some dude looked at me as he passed and said, “Whoa, that’s awesome,” and I just assumed he was talking about my makeup and not the gigantic bulge in my pants. Or maybe it’s the other way around?

I only got the “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING FOR, MIME?” line like, oh, five hundred times. It was funny up to the two hundred and twenty-fourth time, then it got old. There was a cute blond girl there, very mousy, and she had an honest look of shock on her face when I spoke to her after not saying a word in her presence for about fifteen minutes.

Then she walked back inside with some guy saying, “I don’t want to go back inside, that movie sucks so, so, so bad!” And my heart broke a little. I’ll never see her again. This is where I sniffle and wipe away a black tear drawn on my cheek in eyeliner.

A month and a half until Clue? Yeah, I think so. September 16th. You’re all invited.

I made a pilgrimage (what is up with me and this word tonight?) to Lovell’s in Uptown trying to find a copy of Rocky Horror on DVD. I had already looked at Target and Wal-Mart, which was an even bigger waste of time than trying to find Fahrenheit 9/11 at those stores. Lovell’s had a nice, two disc, nice color booklet, 25th Anniversary edition of Rocky Horror. I was elated. It was priced more than I had on me, or was willing to spend, but I headed out and pulled out some money anyway.

I go back in, grab it back off the shelf, and take it up there. At Lovell’s, all their DVDs are used in some form, so they’re all open cases and they keep all the actual DVDs in booklets behind the counter. I set down my precious copy of Rocky Horror and he looks it over, a puzzled look on his face that I don’t understand, mumbles something sinister under his breath, looks at his co-worker and mumbles something else, and proceeds to start to look through the books.

I know, at this very moment, that this copy of Rocky Horror and I are not to be star-crossed lovers. There will be no decadent love affair between it and I, no sir, I know it at this moment.

He comes back, “Well, unfortunately, someone who works here and should be fired didn’t number this DVD. So I don’t know where the DVDs for it are. But, I am going to make it my mission to you, and to God, to find this DVD for you.”

I give him my name and number, and he says he’ll call me today hopefully with the DVDs.

I called him back five hours later, nothing.

He better not let God down, because I’m not pretty when I’m angry.

I drove out to Best Buy, a serious journey if there ever was one, and they had a normal one disc copy, with most of the special features of the dual disc at Lovell’s, for only ten dollars. That’s half the price of the dual disc. But, I am loyal to my local Mom & Pop Record Shop, and I decided that I would rather have the nice shiny cardboard cased special edition, anyway.

Instead, I bought The Salton Sea which is now tacked on to my rapidly approaching twenty some-odd list of things to review. Beh.

So it goes.