Most of my Halloween costumes blow. For as creative as I claim to be, I often shop last minute through picked over slutty Halloween costumes the day before the holiday. I have been a Border Patrol Agent, a Golddigger, a Sailor Girl, a Cheerleader, and a Zombie Prom Queen. But this year I wanted to be something different...something that people in my small bubble of Naples Island would talk about for years. I have had friends tell me that I remind them of Chelsea Handler so I bought a blonde wig, but now I needed a prop. Belvedere Vodka, the preferred vodka of Chelsea, Ms. Handler if you're nasty, would not be enough. I needed something bigger...yet smaller. So I googled "Renting A Midget." The questions you find yourself asking when inquiring the going rate of a Little Person for chosen evening feels what I like to call "Leaving Vegas and needing at least five showers" dirty. But its all business, and I soon found that Halloween and Christmas are the Little People's biggest holidays. I only had days to decide between a Latino LP named Gaspar and an African American LP that went by the moniker of Five Cent. While the latter was tempting, the aforementioned was more practical.
The big day finally arrived, and I was a ball of nerves. I'm not sure if this is how newly adoptive parents feel, but I was nervous all day, making sure that his nursery, or in Gaspar's case my bedroom full of Magnum condoms and Marlboro Light cigarettes for picture taking were ready. He pulled up like a true gentleman, in an early 2000 model of Ford Taurus with push pedals and a booster seat to make driving easier. He wore a page boy hat and an argyle sweater, and was incredibly sweet. Since I had never rented another human being besides a stripper before, and really they don't count, they are not nearly as special, I found myself very attentive towards' Gaspar's needs. But since he was my bitch for the night, I put him to work. I let my friend Alisha carry him around, I played 'airplane' with him, he carried my bottle of Belvedere around and lit my cigarettes.
All was bliss until the day after the rental...and the six days following that. Gaspar texted, emailed, Facebook messaged me and my friends, called...and then on the sixth day after I didn't respond, he deleted me as his Facebook friend. I initially went through all of the feelings of grief: sadness, anger, disbelief, finally acceptance. But really...can't a girl just rent a midget and call it a day?
Friday, December 23, 2011
Cat Scratch Fever
So I went to dinner with MFL Amy (short for My Favorite Lesbian) and her wife Michelle. I've known Amy for ten years, ever since the Enterprise days. We went down to Wokcano in downtown Long Beach for dinner, and in the middle of eating a Philadelphia Roll, Amy popped the question.
Amy: So, would you be able to take an animal?
Sapphire (my guard already up): What kind of animal?
Amy: Does it matter?
Sapphire: I hate cats.
Amy: Well you haven't meant Mama. She is a cat who has had babies (yep, I figure that), and we need to find her a good home. We just have too many animals (why couldn't you throw me one of your extra dogs then? Those I like). But you should know that Mama has feline AIDS.
It's still amazing to me that Amy is in sales with that little pitch of hers. Not only do I not like cats, but I do not want a cat that makes poor decisions.
Amy: So, would you be able to take an animal?
Sapphire (my guard already up): What kind of animal?
Amy: Does it matter?
Sapphire: I hate cats.
Amy: Well you haven't meant Mama. She is a cat who has had babies (yep, I figure that), and we need to find her a good home. We just have too many animals (why couldn't you throw me one of your extra dogs then? Those I like). But you should know that Mama has feline AIDS.
It's still amazing to me that Amy is in sales with that little pitch of hers. Not only do I not like cats, but I do not want a cat that makes poor decisions.
You Know What I Hate?
When people write on their Facebook "OMG, I have so much to do today. Does anyone want to come over and (insert lame verb here)?" Um...fuck no. Why would I want to come over and clean your house, watch your kids, wrap your presents, mow your lawn, grocery shop, or wax your cooter? Let alone for free, and when I have my own shit to do. Really? Has anyone ever said yes to that? So stop this nonsense Facebook friends...you're better than that.
So what had happened was...
I recently read a story in the paper (or more accurately on a friend's Facebook) that told the story of a twelve-year old girl in Africa who was raped by her uncle as she used the outhouse in the middle of the night. His wife discovered them and beat the girl, and then called the police. The courts ordered the girl to 100 lashes and the uncle to 200 lashes. The girl died after being whipped 70 times, the uncle ran away after only being whipped twice. I'll be honest...before reading this story I had thought torture was watching a Vin Diesel marathon.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Chelsea y Chuy
For someone who fancies themself to be on the creative side, I am extremely uncreative when it comes to Halloween costumes...until this year. I wanted to be something so out of left field that people would weep and clap and throw rose petals at my feet for the sheer genius of my costume. While I often opt for a last minute store bought purchase (please see Border Patrol, Sailor Girl, Cheerleader, Zombie Prom Queen), this year I was going to be unconventional...and I needed a prop. I had tried stand-up a few times, and friends had told me that I reminded them of Chelsea Handler...so that's who I would be this year. But wearing a blonde wig and donning a bottle of Belvedere all night was not going to be enough. I needed my own midget, my own Chuy, but I didn't know if renting a person was even possible. It turns out that it is.
I Googled "Renting A Midget" on the internet, and found Tiny Entertainment, a troupe of little people who pimp themselves out to be oompa loompas and elves for the holidays. I briefly considered renting 5 Cent due to Chelsea's alledged fling with the rapper/horrible actor/Vitamin Water and Energy drink mogul, but somehow inherently knew that Chuy was the way to go. They only had one Latino LP (Little Person)...his name was Gaspar...and for the low low price of $425 for 3 hours, he was mine.
Gaspar far exceeded my expectations...although anything would have exceeded my expectations. I had rented a midget! It didn't matter that I used all of my money to rent him, or that I would be eating Ramen noodles the entire following week until pay day...the memories that he would bring would last a life time.
Gaspar was married to another LP, and they had an LP daughter named Gaby. He was very sweet, and was basically my bitch for the evening. He lit my cigarettes, deferred all free drinks given to him my way, carried around my bottle of Belvedere, and didn't put up much of a fight when my friend Alisha and I tried to carry him around like a child or play airplane with him. Before we even went out, I made him (bitch, I paid for him, don't judge me) pose on my bed amongst Magnum condom wrappers, empty bottles of booze and Marlboro cigarettes.
Not having children of my own, I had no idea until I rented Gaspar how protective mothers must be over their children. I felt the need to make sure that he was OK, and that he hadn't lost my bottle of Belvedere. Around midnight I started to fade so Gaspar walked me home. When we got to my door step to say good night, I wasn't sure what the proper ending should be so I slurred "We're not going to have sex." He shrugged his tiny little shoulders, told me it had been a pleasure, then hopped into his Ford Taurus with the gas pedal extenders and booster seat to drive back to Riverside.
Truly that should have been the end of it, but since my life is filled with weird occurences that have basically forced me to start this blog, it wasn't the end...but the mere beginning to a week of emails, phone calls, texts, and Facebook messages professing how great of friends we were. Um, if we were that great of friends, then give me my $425 back so that I could stop eating Ramen noodles until pay day. Knowing that he was married, and not wanting to be a Little Person homewrecker, I stopped answering his insistent communication. I was at my friend Angela's house the following Friday night doing our normal routine of drinking too much wine and stalking ex-boyfriends on Facebook, and I flipped onto his page to show her who Gaspar was...and much to my chagrin, saw that he had defriended me. Our six day friendship had been a whirlwind of unanswered text messages and emails, and now that it was over, it left me feeling hollow inside. It also left me with the age old question that I'm sure you've heard a million times: Can't a girl just rent a midget and call it a day?
I Googled "Renting A Midget" on the internet, and found Tiny Entertainment, a troupe of little people who pimp themselves out to be oompa loompas and elves for the holidays. I briefly considered renting 5 Cent due to Chelsea's alledged fling with the rapper/horrible actor/Vitamin Water and Energy drink mogul, but somehow inherently knew that Chuy was the way to go. They only had one Latino LP (Little Person)...his name was Gaspar...and for the low low price of $425 for 3 hours, he was mine.
Gaspar far exceeded my expectations...although anything would have exceeded my expectations. I had rented a midget! It didn't matter that I used all of my money to rent him, or that I would be eating Ramen noodles the entire following week until pay day...the memories that he would bring would last a life time.
Gaspar was married to another LP, and they had an LP daughter named Gaby. He was very sweet, and was basically my bitch for the evening. He lit my cigarettes, deferred all free drinks given to him my way, carried around my bottle of Belvedere, and didn't put up much of a fight when my friend Alisha and I tried to carry him around like a child or play airplane with him. Before we even went out, I made him (bitch, I paid for him, don't judge me) pose on my bed amongst Magnum condom wrappers, empty bottles of booze and Marlboro cigarettes.
Not having children of my own, I had no idea until I rented Gaspar how protective mothers must be over their children. I felt the need to make sure that he was OK, and that he hadn't lost my bottle of Belvedere. Around midnight I started to fade so Gaspar walked me home. When we got to my door step to say good night, I wasn't sure what the proper ending should be so I slurred "We're not going to have sex." He shrugged his tiny little shoulders, told me it had been a pleasure, then hopped into his Ford Taurus with the gas pedal extenders and booster seat to drive back to Riverside.
Truly that should have been the end of it, but since my life is filled with weird occurences that have basically forced me to start this blog, it wasn't the end...but the mere beginning to a week of emails, phone calls, texts, and Facebook messages professing how great of friends we were. Um, if we were that great of friends, then give me my $425 back so that I could stop eating Ramen noodles until pay day. Knowing that he was married, and not wanting to be a Little Person homewrecker, I stopped answering his insistent communication. I was at my friend Angela's house the following Friday night doing our normal routine of drinking too much wine and stalking ex-boyfriends on Facebook, and I flipped onto his page to show her who Gaspar was...and much to my chagrin, saw that he had defriended me. Our six day friendship had been a whirlwind of unanswered text messages and emails, and now that it was over, it left me feeling hollow inside. It also left me with the age old question that I'm sure you've heard a million times: Can't a girl just rent a midget and call it a day?
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