KEEP THE FRIENDS THAT SET YOUR HEAD ON FIRE!

Keeping the friends that set your hair on fire is important....

Well, almost set your hair on fire. For example, my friend Jim. We’ve been best friends since I was eighteen and now I’m forty-blah-blah-blah. Suffice it to say it’s been a looong time. Jim’s an actor and a very good one. Back in the day, when I was still an actor we did a bunch of shows together in Chicago. One of them was GREASE, I was Frenchy and he was Sonny. At the part where we all think Rizzo is knocked up, Jim (Sonny) was supposed to lean into me (Frenchy) and whisper the rumor....He did, with a lit cigarette in his mouth (yes, people used to smoke on stage)

I smelled a hideous odor. It was my bright orange wig lighting up. Thankfully Jim slapped the side of my head quite soundly and put the flames out before my entire head was on fire....Cheap fake hair with buttloads of hair spray in it and flames are a very baaaad combo!

Oh, and there was also the time Jim and another cast member (my boyfriend at the time who shall remain nameless) glued the face of a female cast member onto the crotch of a naked spread eagle woman in a magazine I was supposed to read on stage....Choked with laughter, I couldn’t get my lines out. I laughed so hard that the audience started to laugh...in confusion. All three of us got written up by the stage manager. Good times, good times. 

So as you can plainly see, I could never let Jim go. Someone with a deviously creative mind like his is a keeper! I have gotten him back for these things many times over the years. The reason I share these trips down memory lane is because Jim is at my house now helping me write the screen play for HOW HARD CAN IT BE? and it’s not an easy task....

I have pouted and cried about having to cut scenes and combine characters. A lesser man would have told me to shove it up my whiney ass and left, but thankfully Jim can handle me. (or at least ignore me) I have been as asshat and an assmonkey, but we’re writing an amazing script.

So the lesson here is flaming hair, asshats, tiny faces in the crotches of naked spread eagle women and getting written up to the actor’s union make relationships stronger. I hope you have a Jim in your life. I’m sure as hell glad I do.

Buy my book!

P.S. I'm the one in the picture with the scary blond wig and the super cute head tilt and Jim is in the back row holding fuzzy dice....

http://www.robynpeterman.com

Here's the Amazon link! Squeeehaw HOW HARD CAN IT BE? is finally on sale for real!!!!!

http://www.amazon.com/How-Hard-Can-Be-ebook/dp/B009T9SCRG/ref=la_B00A7D7DPA_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1352920534&sr=1-1

LAXATIVES, AMERICAN IDOL AND WRONG NUMBERS PART 2...(I called Didi)

LAXATIVES, AMERICAN IDOL AND WRONG NUMBERS......(I called Didi)

*********Heads up! This was on my Facebook page, but there’s more! I bent to the pressure and called Didi. She was alive.........

Tonight on my home phone, which is unlisted, I got a message. It was clearly a wrong number, but it was so fascinating I listened to it five times. A gal named (I’ll call her Didi) let me know that she wasn’t coming to work tomorrow. And she let me know with attitude. Bad attitude. She said she ate too much over the weekend, had taken some laxatives to solve the problem and had been on the toilet for six hours straight. (OMG)

Apparently (This part was a little difficult to understand, which is why I replayed it five times.) she was wanting to lose weight to try out for that singing show (American Idol? The Voice? America’s Got Talent? Sadly, she didn’t say which one.) and she was really f#$king pissed at herself for eating so much over the weekend. She didn’t think she would get much work done sitting on the toilet all day, so she wasn’t coming in. If I had a problem with that, I could call her back........(more attitude)

Believe me, I was tempted. I’ve heard a lot of excuses in my forty blahblahblah years, but that was one of the best. I have no idea if she was lying, but she sounded for real. At first I thought it was my friend Sam, he likes to screw with me that way, but it wasn’t him.

I had so many questions for Didi. Which show was she trying out for? How many freakin’ laxatives did she take? What in the hell did she do for a living? Should she go to the hospital? Part of me wanted to let her know she didn’t actually call her boss, but I was worried about cutting into her toilet time. Plus her attitude was a little scary.

I suppose to pay tribute to Didi (not her real name) for making me laugh, I will use her in a story. Although, sitting on the toilet for six hours after taking a wad of laxatives due to overeating is not very romance worthy......Whatever, I’ll work it in somehow. The lesson here is inspiration comes from the oddest places and laxatives are not the answer. Ever.

*******Update: After lots of pressure from friends on my Facebook page, I called Didi to let her know she called the wrong number last night. It went something like this.....

(me) Hi, um...Didi?

(Didi) Yeah, who is this? (back ground chatter) Hang on. Would you people shut up? I’m on the damn phone. Yeah, who is this?

(me) It’s Joan Smith. (first name that popped into my head) You, um called me last night to ahhh, let me know about your bathroom problem and um...

(Didi) Wait a minute, did Jarinda put you up to this shit?

(me) No, actually you called the wrong number last night and I felt bad and um...was worried you got in trouble with you boss and I was kinda curious about a couple of things... 

(Didi) (Huge burst of laughter) Are you f$%kin’ kidding me? I thought that ass was just tryin’ to get me fired. He said he didn’t get any message. Are you sure this isn’t Jarinda?

(me) Yep, I’m sure. God, did you get fired? ( I started sweating. I felt nauseous and guilty.)

(Didi) No, but it’d be awfully helpful if you would call Tony and let him know that I called in. I mean, that sum-bitch has it out for me. Let me give you the number. (lots of shuffling and shouting) Here it’s 555-555-5555. Call him now, he’s probably eatin’ dinner.

(me) Do you think it would help?

(Didi) No, but I think it would piss him off and screw up his dinner.

(me) Well, if you feel strongly about this I suppose I could ahhh, call.

(Didi) Nah, don’t worry about it, Jean.

(me) Joan.

(Didi) Right.

(me) Did do you mind if I ask what show you’re trying out for?

(Didi) American Idol. (background chatter and dogs barking) Shut the hell up, can’t you see I’m on the phone?

(me) Well I hope you make it.

(Didi) You too.

(me) Okay well, um, thanks.

So many questions left unanswered...she kind of threw me at the end wishing me luck on my American Idol audition. The lesson here is to make sure you actually talk to someone if you’re not coming to work due to explosive diarrhea. I will definitely look for Didi (not her real name) on American Idol and if I see her I will vote for her. I’m still unsure if the laxative thing was for real, but I have a feeling it was.....Calling Didi wore my ass out. I felt the same way I did when I made prank phone calls in Middle school. So that’s it folks. I called and I didn’t get my ass chewed out. Didi is trying out for American Idol, she’s alive and she didn’t get fired. Have a lovely night and buy my book!

http://www.robynpeterman.com