Saturday, September 22, 2012

She-Rah, 75% OFF with the Underwear, Thanks Mr. W.

She-Rah has left the couch folks!  A rather unpleasant, selfishly embroidered Armenian-American, overtly bitchy, gay "friend" of Mr. Wilson’s who has occupied the better half of this house for more than six grueling weeks.  I have had moments of insanity, wishing to graft my wrists with a Ballpoint pen rather than listen to his insistent, meaningless chitter-chatter about Pink’s “cute little baby Willow” or the latest developments in his lawsuit against his landlord.  A vortex of negative energy has been lifted from Mr. Wilson’s residence (I do inhabit what was once considered to be the attic) and in spirit of celebration we went shopping last night followed by a few cocktails with the gorgeous Ms. Whitney (yes, I did dance & it felt good).

Sporting some of my new threads, I sit here at the main hub WEHO Starbucks watching the meanders, the bodybuilders, the hawkers and  such.  This is a town of characters with more Estrogen than a Tammy Faye Clinic.  Deep breath – yes, spending that money does very much mean that  I have to earn more . . . but I got more than a few plans in motion and with the absence of Darth Serbiat I can finally get back into the groove.

I really haven’t properly acknowledged Mr. Wilson’s consistent and constant assistance over this past year.  Of course, none of this was meant to be permanent, I was to have won my rightful compensation by the hand of judicial righteousness; I was to have a stable base of income with 24 Carrots; I was to have catapulted my career forward as an accomplished Chef debuting on ABC’s “The Taste” . . .but at last, I got under served, over diverted & handed an unflattering  life lesson invoice.  Mr. Wilson isn’t perfect, much like a hobbit clinging to the hills of past both clutter & virtual memory; but he is a true friend through and through.  He is a peculiar blend of analytical rationalization and untempered sensitivity and often perceived as being a bit negative . . .  he really isn’t once you get to know him.  I think he just needs a pet to love him unconditionally and a bit of a cleansing from some of these quasi-evil “friends” such as She-Rah.  Here’s a recent conversation to give you an idear of our relationship:

“So . . . it has been long and painful, and I feel like I need to be shriven, and smudged, and .  .  I ddon’t know what else.”  Wilson (referring to She-rah finally leaving)

“Don’t be whipping your card out. You had charges dated 9/21 for $315.38 and $247.48 that I hadn’t seen receipts for.  Am Guessing those might be food bought Wed???  Touch base when you get the chance” Wilson (referring to my frivivlous spending habits)

“I will take a looks and try and make some semblance of my expenditures” me

“There are two bulldogs here and a really cute beagle mix!” me (nipping at Wilson's heals)

 Any word from you lawyer . . what!  No pets!  Ozzie is as much of a dog as I need.” Wilson (Ozzie being the neighbors dog)

“They are letting me take both and we can return whichever dog we don’t want” Me

“You had better be jerking my chain.  If not you can return both now.” Wilson

So, I never went to the Pound and I did ring another $360 at a clothing store . . . I am a torturous, reoccuring wart to Mr. Wilson’s life . . defiant to nearly all of his logical requests and cosmetic applications. The man has suffered along my side, I owe him more than a dog but he’s just going to have to settle for more fleas, barking & wandering walks as I haven’t quite crested the my state of impermanence.   I am getting closer, enlightened a bit and leaning towards action that will ultimately turn this grayscale sketching into a bold Miro depiction of borderless dreams.  Thank you Mr. Wilson for being the footing beneath my wandering ways without you I surely would be ever more aloof.

 a relieved & very grateful,
Chef Scotty

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