David Bowie | APOCALYPSTICK

Today was my last day of filming in my “blink and you’ll miss it” feature film debut! But it was very fun. I play a bartender. I always want to be a bartender until I actually go to a bar and then I see how crowded it is and how I’m afraid of counting and I think, “Oh, right. This is why I’m not a bartender.”

Peter Dinklage is the star of the film. My favorite Peter Dinklage performances are his wedding planner in “The Baxter” and his “CALL ME ELF ONE MORE TIME” guy in “Elf”.

Can I say something about Peter Dinklage?

He’s sexy.

No, really.

He’s got a deep sexy voice, a cross between Don Draper and Mufasa. He’s got charisma. He walks around and he stares at you with that classic angry Peter Dinklage stare and you’re frightened that he’s going to kick you but you’re oddly turned on. We were shooting in a restaurant/bar and between takes he wandered over to a piano in the corner and with one hand played the theme from “Jaws”. He’ll keep you on your toes, that Peter Dinklage.

So this brings me to my Celebrity To Do List. Everyone has their list of top 5 celebrities they would get down with, if given the chance. But everyone’s list are always so predictable that I feel silly for sharing mine. The celebrities I want to do are either really old or really dead. But there must be people out there who have similar lists. So I’m going to give you mine. My real one. Not my “1. James Franco 2. James Franco 3. Adrien Brody 4. James Franco 5. James Franco” bullshit list.

5.) Michael Caine
To be honest I probably wouldn’t have sex with him today but I don’t think he’d have me. If I were to try it would probably go something like, “Hey Michael Caine, wanna put it in me?”

And he would say, “I beg your pardon?”

“You wanna do it?”

“Young lady, certainly not.”

“You sure?”

“Listen, I don’t know who you are but I don’t sleep with common prostitues such as yourself, though you have a lovely face. I suggest you spruce up and get a real job and don’t come sodding ’round these parts again.”

“OK, ALFRED.”

And I guess that would be it.

4.) Peter O’Toole

I once tried to write a song and here’s how it went:

“Oh Peter O
Peter O
Peter O’Toole.
Look what you’ve done to my heart!

Peter O
Peter O
Peter O’Toole.
I shoulda known from the start.

I (something something something
something something something) rule.
But I (something something something
something something) in love with Peter O’ Toole–

Oh Peter O
Peter O
Peter O’Toole.
Look what you’ve done to my heart!”

The “(something somethings)” were subsitutes for unwritten lyrics. I sang this song to a musician friend of mine and he said, “Ha…” and then gave me a look that said, “I think my friend is autistic?”

3.) James Dean.

OK BEFORE YOU COMMENT, I KNOW THIS IS A FILM STILL OF JAMES FRANCO AS JAMES DEAN, okay? DO NOT COMMENT “THAT’S JAMES FRANCO, NOT JAMES DEAN” BECAUSE I KNOW THAT. To be honest everything I find sexy about James Dean is probably only because of James Franco’s portrayl and really I would probably rather do James Franco as James Dean rather than James Dean.

2.) Roger Daltrey

Sometimes I’ll be going merrily along through life and I’ll suddenly think, “Why am I not having sex with Roger Daltrey right now?” And I’ll realize just how unfair life is. True story.

1.) David Bowie

I would have sex with Bowie today, tomorrow, 10 years from now, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, 30 years ago, basically right on the day he became legal and every day after. When I was younger I had a big thing for 80s Bowie, with the bleach blonde hair but today I’d rather have late 70s Bowie, but not when he was too strung out because he’d probably impale me with one of his shoulder blades or ribs. But oh what a lovely death.

Honorable mention goes to Don Draper
and YES I KNOW HE’S NOT A REAL PERSON, THANK YOU. I would fuck Don Draper. But I would have a relationship with Roger Sterling.

DAMN I LOVE ME SOME ROGER STERLING. SILVER FOX GODDAMN.

He’d treat me real nice and we’d go to a supper club or Sardi’s back when it was really hip and he’d always light my cigarettes and give me jewelery and say things like, “My God you’re so gorgeous I’m going blind” and he’d give my ass a cute little pat. One dude on Mad Men I would not have sex with is Pete. Pete would probably have a mental breakdown during and then choke back tears and try to spoon with me after and I’d light a cigarette in a long holder and say, “Be a dear and leave, won’t you sweetie?” And he’d say, “I just want to hold you” and I’d say. “Aw, that’s cute. But really hon, you gotta get the hell out.”

BUT THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

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It has come to my attention that people are actually reading this blog.

Which, don’t get me wrong, is great! But this means that I need to come up with things to write about and to fix this atrocious layout. I can’t do web layout for shit so expect the same crappy look for a while until someone takes pity on me.

I haven’t had a boyfriend since ’07. This is not an accident. That was an odd relationship, one of those where you look back and think, “Huh, how ’bout that”. Which is the same sentiment I have while watching Alton Brown’s “Good Eats” and if your feeling on a relationship is the same as that on a show on the Food Network you’ve got some problems there, stardust.

I emerged from the whole ordeal a little worse for wear. I can no longer listen to the Magnetic Fields. Which honestly isn’t a huge drag for me. They’re like Belle and Sebastian but with a deeper voice. I’ll take B&S.

One of the most awkward things about breaking up is what to do with all of the stuff that accumulates. Everything that he gave me, I sold. However there was one item in particular that was a bit harder to get out of my life.

I have a huge thing for David Bowie. He is my favorite musician of all time. My ex, in an attempt to be thoughtful, bought me a HUGE framed photo of David Bowie. Sweet, right? Well the problem here is that 1.) It was friggin HUGE and 2.) It was the scariest fucking photo of David Bowie that I have ever seen. Seriously, it was in black and white and it was a closeup of his face, and the expression he had made me want avert my eyes and start praying to Jesus Christ for fear that an albino priest was going to emerge from my bathroom with a whip. I mean that’s how fucked up David Bowie looked. His eyes followed me everywhere. And by this point in the relationship I knew I wanted out but I was too much of a pussy to say so. So every time I went out the door or into the kitchen or really ANYWHERE (I lived in a studio apartment in New York) all I saw was David Bowie and all I heard was, “Ground control to Major Tom…YOUR RELATIONSHIP IS FUCKED WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING GET THE FUCK OUT YOU STUPID BITCH commencing coutdown engines on…”

When we finally broke up I had a bit of a quandry with this giant Bowie face. He was not as easy to sell or give away as a Magentic Fields CD. Again, I lived in NYC at the time and it just so happened that as I was breaking up I was getting ready to move back to LA. So everything that I didn’t want to grag with me back to California I needed to get rid of, and fucking fast.

(note: this is not the actual GBF but it’s close enough)

Now there was this unwritten rule about my apartment building: whatever you didn’t want you would leave on the bench in the hall. This was how I managed to snag some cool items like a stack of LPs and an H&M sweater. But could I really leave Giant Bowie Face in the hallway? In my hallway? I know it sounds ridiculous but I felt like it was just saying, “HEY EVERYONE I JUST GOT OUT OF A BAD RELATIONSHIP AND I’M WEIRD. WHY ELSE WOULD I BE HERE IN YOUR HALLWAY?”

My BFF was helping me move and she had no suggestions for disposing of Giant Bowie Face. I just couldn’t leave it in my hallway. It was saying too much. So I devised a plan. “We are going to drag GBF into the elevator, hit a random button, and leave him in the hallway of that floor.” And my friend actually agreed that this was a genius idea.

So we dragged GBF into the elevator and prayed to God that no one else would get in. Now at the time two friends of mine also lived in this building and so I couldn’t choose their floors. But for some reason I also decied that this meant I couldn’t choose the floors immediately above or below them. This left us fewer options.

“Why not the top floor?” my friend suggested.
“The top floor? THAT’S THE FIRST PLACE THEY’LL LOOK,” I screeched.
“Who?”
“I DON’T KNOW. You pick a floor.”
“Ok, how about eleven?”
“ELEVEN? BUT THAT’S THE FLOOR RIGHT BELOW MINE.”
“So?”
“So they’ll figure out it was ME.”
“How??”
“I DON’T KNOW. PEOPLE TALK.”
“What people?”

FINALLY, we got out on a floor, I don’t remember which one. She checked to make sure that no one was in the hallway and we dashed out with GFB, dumped him on the bench and shot back into the elevator like we were having that classic high school dream where we’re naked in the halls.

The last thing I remember before hitting the button is seeing this giant, angry David Bowie face staring back at me, and wondering what poor soul was going to have the shit scared out of them once they got out on their floor.

And then I laughed. And couldn’t stop.

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Category Archives: David Bowie

To Do List.

David Bowie and relationships

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