Day 6: Scatterbrained

Well, I had a good idea for a short story for We Work for Cheese's "Discouraging Writers Everywhere" aka "30 Minus 2 Days of Writing" challenge...but, as I didn't write it down when it first came to me while I was in the kitchen buttering my waffle, it, like so many of my other stunningly brilliant ideas...dissipated pretty much as soon as it came.

 

It kinda went something like this:

 

"Look, Tom, I'm not gonna do this shit again.  I'm tired of it.  You hear me?  I'm fucking serious as a heart attack, man...I'm sick and fucking tired of it!"

 

It was a really good idea.  It was.  It was going to rival "Pulp Fiction" - and Tarantino would have called me in a few days (not wanting to look too eager by emailing me for my phone number straight away) to firm up the details. Sure, he would have changed the guy's name from "Tom" to "Tommy" or something...just nothing stupid like "Jed" or "Lance"...altho, "Look, Lance..." with an air of Tarantino-ish snide sarcasm in the guy's voice, might have worked.  These are the things we would have talked about on the phone...and later on, in person.

 

And it would have been a great film, too.  It would have made some actors famous...who will now never know what it's like to schmooze and hobnob with Hollywood's "A-List" celebrities...all because I didn't have a pen and paper handy.  I always think I'm going to remember -- I keep repeating it in my head over and over...but...then, in a blink of an eye, or in this case, a swipe of a knife...and it's gone.

It's always the same...I even had one of these things given to me about eight years ago:

 

It's much, much more complicated than this thing...

 

 

...because it has side buttons on the left...

 

...and on the right...

 

 

 

The manual is also about as thick as the one they give to you when you learn to fly the Space Shuttle...and the Space Shuttle people never had to drive down a busy road when an idea...an awfully brilliant idea...popped into their heads.  Needless to say...I am alive (and so are countless other people) because I can't figure out how to operate it while I'm sitting in the confines of my house, let alone out in traffic when all my most viable ideas manifest themselves.

It is, for all intents and purposes...a very sexy looking white gadget which, for some odd reason, reminds me of those old Virginia Slims cigarette packs.  And who the hell wouldn't have wanted to smoke these things back then if you could've looked as hot as Kelly Emberg does is this 1980s advert? (I hope that's her - I think that's her...I'm almost fairly certain that's her.)

Which gets me thinking...Kelly Emberg...I wonder if they used to say she was "hot an ember"?  I bet they did.  I'm going to have look up if they even used the word "hot" to refer to women back then, you know, in the 1980s, when she was in every single Vogue magazine. 

 

I always wanted to look like her, too...and when I had my nose done in the 1980s I was hoping they'd give me her nose.  They didn't. 

 

Speaking of noses...she was in a long-time relationship with Rod Stewart, who I always thought oozed sex appeal.  They also have a child together: a daughter.  I sure hope she has her nose (well, not her nose...of course she has her nose - I meant Emberg's instead of Rod's)...but, I bet she (Emberg) had a nose job, tho...only she got a better nose than I did.

 

They used to do this procedure on the nose...where they'd actually take a bit of your cartilage and form it into a "V" shape and pop it into the tip of your nose, so you could have that "bone in the nose" look which was all the rage in the 1980s. 

 

Alas, my nose doctor, Julius Newman aka "Dr. Nose" (the doctor who invented liposuction, and who had a Rolls Royce with "DR NOSE" license plates)...didn't give me a V-tip.  I did, however, get cheekbones done as well.  I didn't know I didn't have cheekbones until he pointed it out to me in his swanky Philadelphia office.  Once I had them...I realized I must not have had 'em before...because the first time I washed my face...and you know how you lean over the sink? Well, you don't really realize you truly know the contours of your face until your face gets some cheekbones put in -- the first time I cupped my hands to splash the soap off...there they were!  There were now hollows where my eyes are...instead of just a flat surface.  Pretty nifty.  In case you didn't know, they shove cheek implants up through the inside of your mouth...so you have no visible scars - and then they anchor them with a looped piece of string that goes into the grooved portion around the implant...and that's what keeps them tethered in place until they yank the strings out of your face a few days later.  THAT was a weird sensation, I tell you.  I still remember it like it was only yesterday. 

 

Strange the things you remember...and the things you don't.  I guess some people are just scatterbrained that way...but in totally different way than how I was going to have brains scattered all over the place in my Tarantino movie.

 

Yeah...I think I really woulda liked that film.

 

 

 

(Another strange thing: I had decided, for some odd reason to Google "Julius Newman" one day...just out of the blue...and it just so happened to be the day after he died.  I had never Google'd him before, which made it all the more odd.  I was going to work that bit of info into this blog...but I thought it would have been way too convoluted to follow...so I tacked this on as an end note. I still think it's very strange.)

(Also, "buttering my waffle" is not a euphemism for masturbation...but, if it were, it would be an awesome one.)