More of a condemned property than an intellectual one.
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After supper, Bouvard, Peckushay and Peaches went back to their rooms, but Stu imediatley ate supper again at the hotel restuarant. I went with him, just to have coffee, because we had a ten PM dinner meeting with the cartoon studio executives. Stu talked me into at least havin soup and salad, and then talked me into ordering an entree, that he ended up eating half of.
"C'mon Walt, FORCE down that swordfish," Stu wheedled, massaging my shoulder with his cloven hoof, "We're on TWO expence accounts. We've got to FIGHT for our right to be porky, at least until Congress changes the business deduction."
Stu booked us at the Centurey City Mariott near the airport, one reason being cause a few years ago he got a hold of the Marriot cookbook, and saw with exitement and glee how much margarine they cook with when prepairing institutional recipes. The othor reason was that we were only like, a block away from the Embasy Suites which is a hotel chain that always serves a free all-you-can- eat breakfast. Stu shamelessly tries to sneak in, as if he is a guest. Allot of the time he gets cought. He has a very easy to remember face.
I forced myself to eat. I now embraced Stu'd Law of Inventory rule, believing that the more food I put in there, the sooner it woud come out. After supper, I went to my room, and tried to go to the bathroom again but had no luck. I called the house and spoke with Dr. Blankenship.
"Ach, yer two uncles is close to death," he said gravely. "And I'd never seen yer granpap so full of verve. Why, some of his grey hairs is now coming in black.
"And the old feller is struttin around ye trailer in a TechnoDigiMeriCom(R) shirt. Theyre a great company ye know. They got a branch in Glasgow."
I did not want to talk about that. I needed help myself. In my colon. I told him about my sustained inabbility to make. He encourraged me to have FAITH. But like Blankenship allways is, his ovorly dramattic, poetic side came out.
"Aye, she's a-comin', I 'll promise ye that."
"Be strong, laddie. Keep up with ye Metamucil. It'll not only work like magic, it'll suprize yeh. And when she comes, she'll be like the Beast o'Loch Ness. Breifly showin' herself to yeh in all her glory on the shimmering surface; then a-disapparearin' fer good into the murky depths. While she's rearin' up, now don't miss it laddie: be sure to look."
I thanked him and hung up. In many ways he is a romantic bore. I went outside the hotel to take a walk arround. It was a warm night and somtims I just like to be alone. After a while I just flopped into bus stop bench. It is very hard for me not to feel sorry for myself. I was houmilliated at work, both on film, then on the whole company lan network (I am talking about the server named after me calling me a "Pansy"), and also the extra hummiliation of being traded off like chattel to be a temp. Not JUST a Temp, but a Rent-A-TempGal(TM) . Yes, effective at noon tomorow, I will officialy be transfered over from Cyberblop to Rent-A-TempGal(TM) .
You have to be carefull in LA about prostituttes so I tried to ignore her at first. But she had this freshfaced Audrey Hebpurn way about her that convinced me othorwise. Then a freind of hers showed up, and they airkissed each other, and then sat down too. She was equaly pretty.
This one was very intrigiung, and had this really cool Jackie O voice, all breathy and kittenlike. They were both fantastically great women. Beleive it or not we all three talked about Star Trek cause they were both fans.
Best of all were their sweet feminine womonlike voices, which according to Granfather (who points this out to me everytime he watches an old movie) is no longer common.
Granfather, (who is a teribble sexist and male chovanist) has this theory that somewhere arround 1970 or so, women's genetics changed so that insted of having feminine voices, they all sort of switched to this more mattor-of-fact, slightly stern TV investigative reporter voice. The old basterd actualy thinks that Nixon put testostorone in the water supply to acomplish this. Granfather is a sick basterd.
I dunno, I just bring up this thing because I had a good time talking to strangers, which I never do, and they were really cool people. Mabye for the first time in my life I am becoming comfortable with myself. I need instances like this in my life to validate me as a person, and also surmount my problom with poor self esteem.
OK, enough of that boring sanctimonious crap. I am sorry for boring you.
Stu was impatiently pacing by the time we met in the lobby. It was 9:30 PM and we had to meet the network TV buyers at 10. We took a taxi ovor to the west Side of LA where we met the studio executive guys.
They both were like, just a little older than me. We ate at this very trendey place, and I am not much of a big eater to beggin with, but even so I loaded myself up with food.
"Is that thing an animation, or a claymation?", one of them asked. Stu told them that it was neithor, but instead was an actuol film clip of Granfather.
"Who did the makeup?", they asked. Stu had to tell them there was no makeup -- that this was actualy who (and what) Granfather really is.
Next, Stu played a file where Granfather was tellin a joke. The diolog, when written out is realy kind of funny, but to hear his awfull voice is bloodcourdling.
Well, THIS was not good.