The Word Up Post
So, like most performers who wear oversized red codpieces, he had a manager. And I met him. He tried to sell me some real estate on a wedding day. And therein, as the bard says. Lies the tale..
I have a very powerful, very rich and damnit-younger-than-me cousin who is a hot shot lawyer in Tampa. He looked up to me when he was growing up, and now the little son of a bitch looks down on me. Needless to say, I am completely overjoyed that a life devoted to the arts and sciences is paying off about one third as much as a life devoted to politics. Grr.. And of course he is getting married to this +hot+ looking italian woman, and he invites me down. I get to sit at the table with the other black sheep, but I still get to go play prince for a day in Agincourt.
So this is also a story about where I draw the line. I went down there to Tampa and we were staying at a hotel with beautiful dark paintings on the wall... I think it was the Westin Hotel. Heated Pool. It was great. More than anything I remember the art... very dark and beautiful... anyway.. out of the blue someone faxes me down this thing they got on the fax, that said a free cruise vacation is waiting for me. Uh oh. Free. My ancient jewish blood powers up and takes control. Freee... whispers to me..... Just go here to this place, and check out a real estate opp. What would I have to lose? I figure, if I start at six am, I can make it there. So , the morning of my cousin's wedding, I check my watch and being the kind of person that I am (I have a very well loved watch) I decide to trust said watch and head off into the wilds of Tampa, Fla. to go see this real estate deal. 7:00 AM I am on campus. I figure, how can I lose? I have to be at the wedding at 12:00 AM
Well. It wasn't a deal. It was a timeshare nightmare. Breakfast was free, but only after they run you around for an hour and a half. Then, brought to me by none other than the ex-manager of the band "Cameo" - I get to ride around a big campus in a little gas-powered golf cart. And I am thinking "Wow, this is like 'Frankenchrist' without the fez". He tells me his life story. Oh, he's divorced, and just recently went bankrupt because the band imploded in a pile of steaming narcissism. And he's now my personal real estate agent. Whee. :-/ I'm in this golf cart, being driven around a huge complex of condos , most of which I can have 1/30th of for only 20,000.00 . Hmmm... doesn't that mean each single room condo, there out in the middle of nowhere, has to sell on the market for 600k? But I keep quiet because, damnit. I want my free cruise vacation. I remind him I have a wedding that day and I have to leave. He ignores me.
His manner of speech reminds me of nothing other than someone who just snorted six lines of peruvian flake cocaine. He is in a dialogue with himself. "What do people want to do on vacation? They want to come to Tampa! " .. "Why? Because, where is the number one tourist destination? Disney World!" And on and on. And I am smiling because I am polite, unless you tell me in foul and obnoxious language to go eff myself or something of that nature. And even then, you have to do it maybe five times before I even bother to respond to it, I am a strong person. And so, as usual.. I am... thinking of a happy place... dwarves riding ponies... girls in white lingerie bringing me lemonade iced tea... ( thanks, happy gilmour! wink! hey, don't mention it turner! you da man! >.) ) ... and then my trusty watch reminds me I have to get to the weddding. The guy I am talking to , has me in his golf cart and he's driven me, like, halfway across a two mile long campus of condos built out in the middle of something that looks like the Tampa St. Petersburg salt flats and he's refusing to drive me back? And so I teach him something. I teach him.. the true meaning of..
Yes, I also got my cruise. Which sucked. Because I still had to pay for part of it, and I decided to trade it for tickets to disney world for three good reasons. But , to my cousin. Any amount of time late, is .. well.. he's a lawyer.. lets put it that way. And so now my cousin hates me. Would've missed the entire thing if mr. Cameo there had his way. Nobody cares that I was locked in a golf cart. And so I am reminded every year of "Word Up" when the thanksgiving dinner is on the table and he's looking at me with his beautiful italian wife (god, I almost said girlfriend) and there is more clinking of the silverware than actual conversation.
Did I mention she was also the D.A. ? To her, females that have tattoos on them are just women who want to tell the world that someone had their prick all over them. And guys who are willing to jeopardize her wedding for a timeshare tour are food for her personal shark tank. I think I register somewhere above primordial ooze and just below the young republicans on her list of life forms. Never. Ever. Piss off. Italian. Women. I leave it, as an exercise to the reader to determine whether or not she actually has a shark tank.