I regained my composure as best I could, my mind reeling with images of my head colliding with the night stand or the window sill. "DEATH BY DILDO "my local blood thirsty news paper would read. They, of the recent head lines "RUN, HE'S RELOADING!" and "WHY?" ... Why? indeed. Couldn't that be every day's headline. I pictured myself in the afterlife my neck forever akimbo at some unnatural angle. The other specters mocking my state.
"Oh that's the guy who tripped on a plastic dick." one ectoplasmic bully would say
I'd try to retort that it wasn't plastic you fool it was life-like* rubberized silicone. But you get the idea, Casper would even laugh at me.
On the way to see a kid's movie no less , though it did recall that mother's constant refrain to children across the centuries "Put your toys away when you are finished playing with them!"
Yes mam.
I met up with Matthew at the nearest cinema intent on blocking out the last few days worth of unmitigated hell with an hour and a half of candy colored animated baby Xanex. I vaguely remembered the basic premise of the book from my youth. It was something along the lines of man's existentialist dilemma in conjunction with the God complex. And a had a nice moral message that was sorta sing-song. A person's and person no matter how small. And Carol Burnett was voicing a bitchy kangaroo, what's not to love.
THIS JUDE.
This Jude as we refer to him is a 22 year hipster self proclaimed screenwriter fresh scrubbed from film school recently relocated to Portland and who has somehow inexplicably landed in my path. We'd made his acquaintance when Garth, Taylor and I went to see the Spiderwick Chronicles (there seems to be a theme of kids movies' hmm, life's tough bring on escapism!)
He tried to pass Taylor his number at the concession stand, and when he failed to pick up my husband that way he waited fifteen minutes into the film and sought us out in the dark, leaned past Garth and I and gave the scrap of brown paper with his number and name (just JUDE) scrawled in red crayon to Taylor.
I handled it all fairly well at the time. We waited the requisite 2 day period then I erupted like Pompeii. Garth seethed and the whole thing made us all fairly annoyed, except that Taylor was more than a bit flattered. Then he felt bad for having tossed the number. "What if this had been this guy's bravest moment?" He asked "Shouldn't I at least stop by and say thanks, but I'm taken."
In some miniscule part of the universe where Whoville might exist on that speck, I saw some logic in this... and I handed him the rope with which to hang himself.
"Sure, why not"
I admit it was pretty ballsy of This Jude. Also i admit that I internalized this like any time Someone makes a pass at Taylor. I couldn't possibly be his lover. NO way. Or if I am he's doing community service and they think he'd be easy stolen away from such an unworthy guy. I don't have low self esteem, I have no self esteem.
I digress.
SO long story short We have dinner with This Jude and two of his friends, at Taylor's behest.
SNAP! Ah the gallows! Drop!
It was the most excruciatingly painful and pretentious dinner conversation I've been subjected to in years. Name dropping seemed to be their past time, over pronunciation of accented words, pointless travel details, references to their youth and partying ways- it was all so tiring. Taylor wanted to leave almost immediately. So we stayed for what seemed like an eternity until I felt he'd learned his lesson. Don't make me jealous to boost your ego, buddy or to prove a point to Garth, that his mistakes have consequences.
It was cute waiting for the train as Taylor boosted my ego again and again telling me how glad he was to be with me and how much he loved me and how awful the company was. I knew all of this of course. We've been together going on half a decade. I don't doubt his fidelity or love. Sometimes I doubt his ability to gage the level of insanity in others.
After living with me you'd think he's be better at this.
This Jude continues to be a peripheral presence however, dropping by Taylor's Salon to talk "at" him . These one-sided conversations even leave his clients asking "okay who the hell was that?"
So back to the speck.
I arrive a few moments before Matthew my compatriot in the need to see an elephant save the day. This Jude , inside the theatre (and not the one he works at I might add) spies me and comes out to chat, asks what I'm seeing, then disappears only to return moments latter with two comp tickets.
Damn it. This is actually quite thoughtful and now I must be nice to him. I am trying to give him another chance when Matthew arrives and This Jude begins the name dropping again. All his mannerisms echo that of my ex with whom I'd had an incredibly self destructive break up many years ago. Maybe this is why I am so quick to judge him. Or perhaps it's because he prattled on about the film Once and it's stars at dinner.
The film Once (which many critics and some Oscar voters cherished-they are wrong) is one of the most loathsome films I've seen this or any year. Heinous, ill conceived, poorly shot and the faux emotional power of the film is such vomitous trite that it literal mad me want to scream. The actress who seemed more special needs than foreign and leading man, now a real life couple meet, play songs about OTHER people and the audience awes and oohs implying this is their inner most feelings for each other conveyed in song as they can never be... despite the songs being about OTHER PEOPLE.... so he goes on. The oscar winning song is his ring tone, he's seen them in concert...blah blah... wait what's that... oh He's a karaoke aficionado.
Turns out This Jude's name isn't even Jude. It's his chosen name. He relays the skeletal structure of the story, something involving a stripper and a Beattles cover. My mind wanders. He prattles on about of all the celebrities he's met Emile Hirsch is his favorite, he's the nicest. He talks about getting fired for being gay, which sucks I agree.
He says its because too many people knew he was gay , because usually he can fly under the radar. Okay this is a serious pet peeve of mine. Young gay men who think they are so straight acting that no one would know, which by proxy is them saying to you "Well I'm certainly butcher than your nelly ass!" I'm sorry but I've been an openly gay person since I was about fourteen years old. get over yourself sweetheart. We knew you were a pole smoker at 500 feet... But he gave me free tickets so, I'm being nice, because after all, that was really kind of sweet.
So after doing his good deed we part ways . Matthew and I thoroughly enjoy the film. It's a kids movie! C'mon! Though someone explain to me the strange R.E.O. Speedwagon sing along and the sudden blasts of 2D animation in the Manga style, both of which I thoroughly enjoyed but...
He stops by Taylor's work leaving a charmingly misspelled little missive about how he tried to talk me out of seeing Horton (which I saw because 1. I wanted to 2. I have a 6 year old goddaughter, Skuya, and I was reporting back to her mom on it) but I wasn't in the mood to listen to him so at least he saved us some money..... I feel a hate crime coming on. This was the day I was having . I mean I tripped on a dildo on the way to see Dr. Seus' Horton Hears a Who.
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