Saturday, April 12, 2008

Gone West, Young Man

On a whirlwind promotional tour for the theatrical release of A Four Letter Word.

We're in Los Angeles, San Diego, and Palm Springs (not necessarily in that order). And can I tell you what fun it is to travel with this cast? Right now we're in San Diego. It's perfect here. Beach, Balboa Park, Hillcrest--and the community here is as amazing as the weather. Why oh why don't I live here?

The promotional company (DIVA, helmed by Nelson Melegrito) out west has organized a massive promotional blitz for our film. All these promotions seem to include my favorite hyphenate: drink-tickets.

They've hired a photographer to track our every movement, so it's fun, or funny, or really frightening to see the photos that keep appearing to fill in foggy blanks. Basically, I've been in a blackout since Wednesday.

At one point, Charlie David and I were "ballers" at the gay bingo night at Hamburger Mary's. The drag queen hostess ("Bridget of Madison County") not only forced us to *read* the balls, but she had a little witty aphorism to go alone with each ball and number.

Bingo Baller duties went something like this:

1) fish out ball
2) hunt for witty little ditty
3) say witty little ditty ("If you want to date Michael Jackson, you must...")
4) then read the bingo ball: ("B 7"!)

Bingo was never so goddamn complicated.

I had at least fifteen cocktails to keep up with Bridget, her balls and those bridges.

I spent most of my time trying to figure out if Bridgets tits were real. (The jury is still out).

When I lived in Los Angeles ten years ago, the Abbey was just a coffee shop. They've since annexed the old pottery shop next door and glammed it up into...into I'm not sure what, but I had dinner there and several martinis.

I did my best to get ejected from the place. At one point, I did a cartwheel, stuck the landing, and then saw someone eating a merengue pie. "I needed some hair gel!" I said, dipping my fingers into his merengue, and styling my hair with it.

With Maria the rose saleswoman. She's famous here.
(Please note the drink spillage on my black jeans).

I definitely don't remember being on stage below. Apparently I was seriously judging the strip contest at Here lounge. I literally do not remember doing this, and yet there I am. Who is the sadist who gave me the cocktail I clutch?

Please note more spillage on my shirt.


You said...

Mmmmmmmmmmm, Drink-Tickets! I hope my favorite B-11 ("Sexy Legs") Bingo Player doesn't get too seduced by Southern California. All that driving would definitely interfere with your drinking...

Mark in DE said...

Promotional appearances require sufficient quantities of cocktails so everything seems funny to you and all the photos will show you smiling and appearing to have a good time, right? Seems perfectly logical to me, so drink up!

Mark :-)