I’m still on tour and I’m in LA today so come see me at the Writers Guild if you can! (Tour details are right here.) If not, you can just read the continuing chronicles of my best-of series. This post was from way back in 2008…
So my friends Jason and (his special lady) Tiffany are throwing a Houston Big Lebowski Bash so Jason put this call out on his blog:
Fellow Achievers, Fox news would like to do story on us and our party live in their studio. So if you have a Lebowski theme costume and would like to be on TV Tuesday afternoon contact me. Let’s show Houston that the bums haven’t lost!”
So I dressed up in my ‘post-coital Maude’ outfit, which is basically a red wig and a bed sheet held up by one strained safety pin and I walked out of my house intent on joining the horde of people dressed in viking clothes, bowling pin hats and bikinis. It was at this point that I remembered there were a dozen construction workers standing outside my house who had seen me naked just 48 hours before.
So I waved at the construction men and stuck my stomach way out to give the impression that I wasn’t just some naked whore in a bed sheet but was in fact a pregnant woman wearing a muumuu but when I got halfway to my car my sheet snagged a shrub and I frantically grabbed at it and forgot to do the stomach thing and so basically I just looked like a chick in a bed sheet failing to carry off a fake pregnancy. So, you know, so much better.
Then I pulled into the news studio parking lot I breathed a sigh of relief and it hardly even bothered me that my sheet got caught in the car door and I’d totally flashed everyone driving down the highway because I knew that within seconds I’d be surrounded by “my people” and then I walked in and saw that it was just five of us and fucking no one was wearing costumes. You know that dream where you’re naked at school and no one else is naked at school? It’s like that but replace “naked” with “wearing a bedsheet” and “at school” with “on national television”.
So basically it was me, two people in normal clothes and two people in bowling shirts who could have gone into any Starbucks in America without getting a second look. Then Jason handed me the latest copy of Barstool Magazine in which I was mentioned as “a certain bloggess whose vagina I know way too much about”. It was at that moment, reading a glossy magazine about my vagina and dressed in a bed sheet poised to go on live television, that realized I had lost control of my life. Somewhere in between becoming a sweet mommyblogger and this exact moment a series of bizarre choices had landed me in this psychotic life and I had no other choice but to run with it. Someone handed me a badge which said I needed to be escorted by an employee at all times. Clearly these people had heard about me.
They quickly ushered us into the studio which was flashy and awesome and I threw off my purse, shoes and badge because at that point those accessories were so normal they were actually making me look more bizarre. Like when you see a homeless guy wearing only a clear shower curtain but he’s carrying an attaché case and all you can think is “Why the hell would that guy need an attaché case?” and it throws you so off you hardly even notice his dangly ballsack.
The producer explained that most of the anchors of the show weren’t familiar with The Big Lebowski because they were “in their 20’s and were too young to have seen it”. So basically I’m old and socially irrelevant and wearing a bed sheet on a show about to be broadcast live over the internet. And this was the point when I decided that these anchor people would regret ever having met me.
So we all sit up on the stage and I’m in the center, looking…fucking ridiculous and coming dangerously close to showing my jubblies to everyone when Matthew mentions that during the interview he’s decided to pose as Jason’s sleazy Italian lawyer who doesn’t speak a word of English. It made no sense at all which actually made it even more brilliant at that point. Coincidentally this was also the same point when my xanax kicked in.
The show began and consisted largely of video clips of dancing sushi, doggie sex motels and kissing robots. Then we came on and Tiffany told the male host that we’d be having the Lebowski Fest “in your backdoor” and I start giggling like a 12 year old. Then I somehow got a microphone and became hypnotized by how fat I looked on the monitor and threatened to show my boobs. By the time that Jason and Matthew did their Italian-lawyer-demanding-soccer-scores bit the anchors seemed ready to kill themselves.
Our work here was done.