No Makeup, Saturday Morning 09.13.03

I awoke in the dark, too tired to actually go up to school and find the articles I promised myself I would this morning. I also woke up next to Selvadurai. That is NOT the optimal outcome of a Friday night. At least he didn’t violate me.

I crashed at Selvadurai’s after an evening featuring the return of Dave from Paradise Hotel. He won’t tell us who won, or any juicy upcoming nuggets. There are four shows left, after all. And good for him, good for him; I don't need to know everything about the show. But he gave us some behind the scenes insights, as we discussed our "relationships" with the characters we'd seen, the characters who pissed us off as they verbally assaulted Dave. The idea that they did other things besides complain about each other (creating personal relationships, playing tennis... listening to non-copyrighted music as they "partied"). The idea of being isolated from friends and family with no contact, no letters, no telephone, no carrier pigeon.

J-Cap + A-Lice and myself were up in his Gran-mama’s apt, drinking with his friend Andy Kaufman, watching Dave bask in the glow of his newfound semi-fame. We were around Washington Square Park, the sky clouding up outside, on hard-backed chairs as Dave reclined in a loveseat with a Red Stripe in hand. Dave answered questions, waved his hands, laughed a lot. Jenna smiled, Alice leaned in with interest. He talked to us about a talk show pitch, about how everyone in the cast of course wants to greet the sun-kissed City of Angels like so many before them have—with dreams of acting stardom.

His other friends came. Now, A-Lice is obsessed with reality television, watches it all. These two women had specific questions on their Clie. They could describe the rooms from what they saw on television. They watched before Dave got on the show. And this, my friends, is why I steer clear of the Upper East Side.

Good luck on your Arizonan endeavors, Mr. Crushman. Don't take a drunken slumpen fall like that bald pallid man last night at the bar's brick wall. Welcome back, New Top. Hello, New Top’s blogging friends such as Electric Honey. I was tired and standoffish last night, ached in the lower back, and in the mood to sleep in my bed, so I was less gracious than I meant to be.