Bunny in LA - January 22, 2005
I like it here. I really do. I could rave about a hundred things, but I'm only going to mention a few faves. I'll start with Indie 103.1, a radio station that plays only Indie hits from as far back as the sixties. As the Producer and I are repainting the new molding in her office, we listen all day. There isn't a single shitty piece of music in rotation. But by far the best thing about Indie 103.1 is their afternoon show hosted by the Sex Pistol's guitarist Steve Jones.
I remember having my mother drive me to the Camelot music store in the Chautauqua Mall so that I could buy Nevermind the Bollocks. I had just seen Johnny Rotten insult someone on MTV and thought he was very cool. My mother saw the S-E-X on the cover and told me to put it back. Instead I bought something crappy. Something I probably didn't even listen to. My boyfriend at the time, Gary Cooper (that's his name, no shit), had the tape. He was a rebel in our school, and had a belt with a funny looking spiked leaf on it's buckle. He called it his 'Mary Jane belt', and I assumed that the plant was poison ivy and there was a girl he knew named Mary Jane who wasn't nice, like poison ivy.
I would go over to Gary's house and listen to the music and dance like a maniac. Later he dumped me for Gina Candelli, that thieving minx who went to third base. They're married with three kids now, so that's nice. My prudishness led to something pleasant.
Anyway, I haven't heard the name Steve Jones in ages, and when the Producer mentioned that he was the DJ of a show on Indie, I wasn't sure who the hell he was. Then I started listening. First, the guy is lacking synapses in all the places that make you a type A prick. Second, he has amazing stories from his hey-day and no internal monologue.
"Awww LA. [Sigh, and uncomfortable pause]. I love it here. I remember when I first came here. [Another long pause] I was with this girl who had a convertible and a great can, and she would take me to the drive-In movie theatre and give me... uh [Uncomfortable pause]... stuff."
And... "I remember the time Pete Townshend tried to beat me up."
He had Eddie Vedder on yesterday. Eddie was droll as usual, and Steve was pulling teeth to get him to talk. He finally got out his guitar and sang a protest song about Dubya that was, frankly, amazing. It made me melt. When he finished he asked Steve what he thought about the election.
Steve: "As long as I can get me Hamburgers and women I don't really give a crap."
He wrapped the interview by saying, "Eddie it's a pleasure and an honor to have you here. Just kidding, we're gonna talk about you as soon as you leave the studio." I bet he did too.
You can listen online. I would recommend it.
_________________________
Favorite number 2: The Producer's friend, Ted Plank, the angry amateur Historian.
Last night The Producer's friend Julian decided to organize a dinner at a Sezchuwan restaurant for some "ring sting," the effect of capsacin on the asshole. His idea of spicy is down right masochistic.
Ted Plank arrives at the Producer's house with his lovely girlfriend who makes custom corsets for transgendered male fetishists. We pick up Julian and go to Chinatown. On the way to the restaurant, Ted brings up the time he ordered a fish sandwich in Louisianna, left it on the dashboard, then ate it a day later in Texas. "Didn't get sick at all."
The Producer: "Yeah. It had mayonnaise on it too."
At the restaurant, The producer and Julian order a number of dishes. I fork them onto my plate and proceed to snot, cry, and sweat as I eat. I keep forking in a sadistic chicken dish thinking with each piece that my mouth couldn't possibly hurt any more. I was wrong.
Ted begins to tell Julian, LOUDLY, what a great father he'll be someday. This is particularly mean because Julian and his girlfriend, the uber-foxy international movie star, Franka Potente, have just broken up because he doesn't want kids and she does. I bite my tongue, though I want details. He has seen Franka Potente naked numerous times. He has touched naked Franka Potente numerous times. Oh how I wanted to when I watched and the rewound that scene in the 'Bourne Identity' when Matt Damon dyes her hair and then they have that intense "let's fuck because we could die soon" moment. Oh well.
Ted knocks a glass of water onto my plate and finishes the masochism. It is a good thing, really. There is sezchuwan all over my arm, so I excuse myself to wash it up. The Producer tells a story about the time Ted was left alone with four year olds, and decided to teach them about the holocaust. The parents came home to their two year old who had learned how to wave and say "Hi Hitler!"
On the way out of the restaurant we dream up "misfortune cookies" like, "you will die soon," or "your wife never loved you," or "you're a liar."
We decide to get ice cream. We are in Chinatown, so the only place we can find that serves anything cold and soothing is a tea restaurant that makes icy drinks with jello and fruit mashed into them. We are the only white people in the restaurant, which is a rather funky and exotic feeling. Now I know how Jojo feels in Lincoln Park.
Ted's lovely girlfriend tells a story about the time she had to make a giant onesy for a man with a baby fetish. We ask for another story, so she tells one about the time her friend shit his pants while driving his date to a party. He rolled down the window and chain smoked sitting in filth the whole time. She never knew. When he dropped her off she asked him to walk her to her door.
Ted pipes in, "Hey remember the time I finally got food poisoning? The time I nearly shit my pants when you were driving me home!" He seems kind of excited about her remembering this. "It was New Year's Eve right, honey! Remember how I asked you if you would still love me if shit my pants in your car?"
Julian: "So Ted, have you written that article you were thinking about doing?"
Ted: "Nope. Not really."
Julian: "Have you written that short story you were talking about doing?"
Ted: "Uh nope."
Julian: "What have you been doing?"
Ted: "Construction work mainly."
Julian: "I suppose it's important to follow your dreams, Ted."
On the way home, Ted, Julian and I are crammed into the back seat. Ted tells a story about a time he was in San Fransisco that starts with "so I was wearing these leather pants..."
He was walking to a Laundromat, and for some reason he was wearing leather pants. It was very hot outside, so he took off his shirt. People started to honk. His friend pulled up in a car and said, "Ted, what the hell are you doing?!"
Ted: "What do you mean? I'm going to wash some clothes."
Friend: "Look around! It's gay pride day!"
Ted looked around to see a man with a handlebar mustache in a car next to him, also decked out in leather complete with studded dog collar, checking him out.
We all laughed. This is when Ted exclaims, "I have led a sad and pathetic life."
Later we discussed fake breasts. Ted weighed in, "Fake boobs are disgusting. I had sex with a girl with fake boobs once, but it was an accident. You women should just get over it. Men love women with their weird floppy bodies."
After we said goodnight, the Producer told me that Ted is a Historian. The Producer and Julian hitched a ride with him to Nashville once and on the way back he wanted to stop four hours out of the way at Shiloh. They grumbled but were thankful, so they went along and ended up being completely riveted by Ted's explanation of the battle and inclusion of personal stories. She is currently pitching a TV show in which Ted Plank, angry amateur historian travels America playing a Borat-like Devil's Advocate. The pilot episode is "Gays in the Military; why it's great!," a rundown on all the homo generals in history. Another episode idea is "The Confederate flag is the loser flag; get over it."
I thought I would end my rave on Ted plank with a writing sample from the man himself. This is Ted's email to his ex-booty call who was too slow to write a promised testimonial for his "Friendster Profile." This also the woman he hopes will get him a TV show:
"Not only did you run off and have anal sex the other night,leaving me to sobbingly masturbate after planning to blow a big load somewhere onto or into your person, but I STILL haven't received your testimonial! You cheap whore! I bet if I was a cantor you'd have written it by now! There's a REASON Jap cunts like yourself get all that bad press! Just too fucking Cool for my filthy goy cock, aren't you?!? Well, you can drink my hot burning butt piss straight out of Arkansas truck stop Porta-Potty! Bitch! Whore! Tramp! Now that I've gotten that off my chest, yeah, I'll probably come to your BBQ."
Oh god, Ted Plank is great.
Posted by at 9:19 PM
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