November 1, 2007
I’m in a high school auditorium. There is a black tie salute to high profile natives of the town where I grew up. The first one is George Takei* from “Star Trek.” A live shot of his face appears on a giant video screen above the stage.
I think to myself, “I better get ready for my close-up. I wonder if it’ll be like at the Oscars with five heads in little boxes as they announce my name.”
At the reception following the ceremony, there are trays of food and drinks being passed around. Judge Judy mills about, her hair frosted, a glass of white wine in her hand. She begins an impromptu speech saluting one of the honorees.
My sister Kay interrupts the Judge, doing a spot-on imitation of the man Judy is toasting, a local political buffoon.
Suddenly, the mood turns very nasty. “You are way out of your league talking about him.”
I am enraged at Judy’s audacity. “What did you say to her? What did you say?”
I get right in her face and become very menacing. “Who the hell are you? You’re nobody. Nobody cares what you think? And…and…I can’t even say it, it’s so mean.”
“What? What can’t you say,” Judy asks me.
As security guards drag me from the room, I scream, “Whoever told you that your hair looks good with frosted streaks is a God-damned liar!”
I’m in a high school auditorium. There is a black tie salute to high profile natives of the town where I grew up. The first one is George Takei* from “Star Trek.” A live shot of his face appears on a giant video screen above the stage.
I think to myself, “I better get ready for my close-up. I wonder if it’ll be like at the Oscars with five heads in little boxes as they announce my name.”
At the reception following the ceremony, there are trays of food and drinks being passed around. Judge Judy mills about, her hair frosted, a glass of white wine in her hand. She begins an impromptu speech saluting one of the honorees.
My sister Kay interrupts the Judge, doing a spot-on imitation of the man Judy is toasting, a local political buffoon.
Suddenly, the mood turns very nasty. “You are way out of your league talking about him.”
I am enraged at Judy’s audacity. “What did you say to her? What did you say?”
I get right in her face and become very menacing. “Who the hell are you? You’re nobody. Nobody cares what you think? And…and…I can’t even say it, it’s so mean.”
“What? What can’t you say,” Judy asks me.
As security guards drag me from the room, I scream, “Whoever told you that your hair looks good with frosted streaks is a God-damned liar!”
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*George Tekai was born in Los Angeles, not Pennsylvania. I looked it up.
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