Me? I have decided that in this game of musical chairs of beaus, boyfriends and escorts seen with pop singer Rihanna, I too would throw my hat in the ring. I mean after all, commiseration is the foundation of any solidly dysfunctional relationship, am I right?
Scene: Rihanna and I fight through the paparazzi to nestle ourselves in a quiet little Café on Rodeo Drive. She is wearing a 1 shoulder piece, something Vera Wang-ish. Her hair flopped to the side, hiding one of her eyes. I assume they are both covered with the same arrow shaped charcoal eye shadow, but I cannot confirm. I am wearing the standard plaid shorts, white T-shirt and baseball cap tilted ever so slightly to the right to add a hint of “look at me, I’m an asshole!” From 30,000ft the white t-shirt seems a bit boring, but really it’s a psychological play. This T-shirt represents a blank canvas for Rihanna to work with. White = Purity, a sign of goodness and renewal. Exactly what she needs in her life. Since this is my fantasy, I have to grin as Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon” is playing softly in loop in the Café.
Our 1st date is not unlike anyone else’s….the interview format organically takes shape. Only then can 2 potentially star-crossed lovers realize if they are compatible.
I dig into my usual bag of tricks and start off with a sports related question. I go fishing with….
“So? How about those Fightin’ Philadelphia Phillies?” (Jesus! Why did I bring up a Philly sports team, I hate those dirty sons of….interruption)
"Oh I love baseball! Growing up in Barbados, we would play stickball at recess. I grew up watching all the Yankee games on TV.” (Evil Empire invades paradise…no shock there.)
“But I do root for Philadelphia in everything, my fans there are so loyal.” (fans? You mean those Veruca Salt lovin’ rich kids whose parents don’t know shit about sports? I have to respond)
“Yeah, that’s cool. But you have to agree that Philadelphia is horrible in every way, right?”
“What do you mean horrible? Philadelphia, the city?”
“Well I was originally thinking the sports teams and their fans, but now that you mention it…yeah the entire damn city. The town is synonymous with losing and complaining about losing. Even after they finally won the World Series last year, everyone I know that is a Phillies fan didn’t seem excited; rather they seemed relieved that those shit-heads “didn’t blow it”. And that is in part true because the bar of losing is raised and revolutionized in Philadelphia every year. The Eagles, 76ers, Phillies, Flyers……it's like they think they get style points for creative losing. And don’t even mention the Philadelphia Soul winning the AFL championship, that’s like routing for Stone Cold Steve Austin to win the Intercontinental Championship Belt.”
“Well, at least the baseball mascot is cute. My dad bought me a Phanatic piñata for my 13th birthday party. It was awesome; filled with nothing but snickers mini bars…my absolute favorite. What is your favorite candy?”
“Cute? You gotta be kidding me? The Philly Phanatic is the dumbest mascot ever. Its looks like a child molesting clown/alien hybrid. It’s not entertaining; it’s scary that it doesn’t have anything to do with the city or the sports teams. If you wanted a more accurate representation of philly, get a fat guy, dress him like Andy Duphrane after his swim through 5 football fields of raw sewage, put a cheese steak in his hand and teach him nothing about sports.
“Any-who, what other kind of sports are you into? Since you live in LA now you probably got sucked into the LA Laker-celebrity crowd like Nicholson and DiCaprio.
“more like I got sucked in with Bynum and his Pog collection.” (She whispers under her breath)
“what’s that?”
“Oh nothing… Yeah I definitely dig the Lakers. My seats are actually pretty good too; my publicist bought them off of Kiefer Sutherland. Apparently he can never get to the games with his schedule. Jack Bauer is too busy saving the United States to take time out to relax and watch some hoops! (She says, jokingly. Not bad for the first attempt at humor from the pop princess. A good sign for me, this means that she is getting comfortable and has moved on from my initial sports snafu. I oblige…)
“Maybe Jack Bauer finally cracked? Maybe he realized that his days don’t coincide with the Roman calendar and that in fact 1 Bauer Day = 22 actual weeks. (I continue to describe a scenario where he immediately proceeds to drink, causing him to estrange from his father and sign on to star in another eventual Joel Schumacher flop, being filmed in Tibet.)
Not even the Caped Crusader could escape Joel Schumacher's directorial touch of death!
“HAHAHAHAHA”
(Victory is mine. this was my cue to keep going but alas I am interrupted by the waiter bringing in our meals. There was no Black and Bleu Burger w/ fries on the menu to accompany my Jack&Coke so I settled for the Panino alla Salsiccia · Homemade chicken sausage panino with braised red onions, radicchio and oven roasted tomatoes served with green salad. I made sure to fork around the salad to make it look like I ate some of it, a masterful skill I acquired as a 6 year old eating mom’s meatloaf twice a week. My meal itself looked like a baby bird tried to fly but fell to its death and landed on a wafer cracker then was buried in onions and arugala. Rihanna, much to my surprise got theBistecca Chiantigiana · Grilled Prime N.Y. steak served with Chianti reduction sauce and sautéed wild mushrooms. This went well with her Evian $6 bottle of tap water w/ lemon.)
“That looks fantastic!” (I exclaim as I secretly hate her for 1. ordering something bigger and manlier than me & 2. ordering the most expensive item on the goddamn menu. Wait it gets worse)
“Yeah yours looks tasty too. I would ask for a bite but I am getting over a recent cold”
(ok now I get it. The date in my mind is completely over. The wind has been taken out of my sails. The turndown of my dead bird lunchable + the comment of “a recent cold” means that she doesn’t find me attractive enough to swap germs. No first base. Now I will be added to the list of Rihanna suitors, undoubtedly coined by that shithead, Perez Hilton as the weird, chubby, bearded white guy. Rihanna will predictably react through the media, explaining that she met with me over lunch to discuss how to Feng Shui her beach house.)
Hey Rihanna, did you know I can sit on a popsicle and tell you what flavor it is!?
“So I guess since we are reposed and the ice has been cracked if not broken…why did you agree to meet with me? I sent that Facebook message to you without ever imagining you’d respond, let alone ask me out on a date!” (would have been nice if she would have covered the air fare.) “I didn’t want to come off like the “Craigslist Killer” or something” (oh god, the first major bomb. That joke probably smelled worse than her feet did, suffering the 90 degree LA heat in suede UGG boots.)
(A weird silence explodes as she motions for the waiter to get her a box for her uneaten $55 steak. She carefully packs up her lunch, sans mushrooms.)
“I just thought a laid back lunch with an average joe would be a nice change of pace. You remind me a lot of the men from my island.” (Remind you how? I’m not the black, slender, barefooted hunter in a loin cloth stabbing at fish with the sharpened golf club I found-kind of man she probably grew up around)
“Oh yeah, how?”
“You have a great passion and sense of humor.” (ok she totally wants to lay me.)
“Well I’m glad I’m getting to know you as well, Rihanna. You are definitely a nice change of pace from the dogs that are usually attracted to me” (I teetered on that one for a while, but she eventually cracked a smile.)
“Ha! Speaking of dogs, I have a cocka-poo at home, Ginny. That is who I ordered the steak for, I hope you don’t mind.” (hee hee, she said cocka-poo. What a tick, did I just buy a dog that steak?)
(Hiding back the confusion of giggles and contempt, I say)
“Come again? (heh) You have a dog? Of course I don’t mind, that’s great!” (stupid bitch)
“I am a dog person too. I have a black lab.” (this is good, a black lab shows I’m not a dog racist, they’re good with kids…means I’m a kind, likeable guy)
(So we continue to chat for about 20mins or so about a number of things. Love, life and Journey (the band of course.) She tells me her dog is named after Ginny Sac from theSopranos, which I love. I tell her about how I think Matthew McConaughey is wasting his talent doing douchey mindless romantic-comedies where if he could focus for just 2 minutes on acting he could be this generation’s Marlon Brando. Things are going great until the check comes.)
“Thanks, ill take that.” (I say to the waiter as I grab the check with my shaky hand that looked more like Judy Garland’s alcoholic claw. My mind has been calculating the entire time (mixed drinks, martinis, wine, appetizers, sherbet to cleanse the pallet, meals, dessert, coffee w/ baileys, etc… I figure it’s gotta be in the ball park of…. (I look)…HOLY SHIT.)
“If it’s a lot, I can pay.” (She offers in a verbal slap to the man sac.)
“no, no…eh hem…(I clear my throat). I would be happy to treat you. Besides I have 2 Slumdog Millionaire Child actors in my car for such an occasion…. should be a fair barter.”
(After I pay with my credit card that I swear started to perspire, we get up to leave. At that point I realize that for a little over an hour I have spoken to a woman without seeing both of her eyes. Which is weird at first because you feel like you’re dating a Cyclops or the Oakland Raiders pirate, but it’s actually becomes comfortable. You really only have to focus on one eye rather than do that thing where you try to look at both eyes while conversing but then eventually look at the bridge of the woman’s nose and then rotate between that and her chest. Really didn’t tire me out as much as it normally does.)
(We sneak out through the kitchen’s back door, hop into Ms Rihanna’s Mercedes SLK500 and speed away from the paparazzi. I start to wonder if this is the same car that provided the backdrop for the heavyweight fight between her and Mr. Breezy. Then I think about the opening scene to Stomp the Yard and start to smile.)
“Where are we headed?” I ask as I take a swig of Rihanna’s VitaminWater.
“I thought we’d head up to my recording studio and lay down a track together. I am going to start putting a random fan appearance on every new album I put out. The ad exec’s tell me it’s the next big thing in music. I will be the first to do it. With all the illegal downloads, we gots to keep coming up with new ideas, always trying to make history.”
“Well then, Shut-up and Drive!” (waiting, waiting….….damn. nothing.)
(For the rest of the car ride I felt like Kim Basinger in the movie Batman where Michael Keaton saves her life than drives scarily through the dark woods towards the Bat Cave. I pass out……………….)
Okay, I have to set this clip up in order for it to make sense...
Museum = the cafe
Joker's henchmen = the paparazzi
The Batmobile = Rihanna's 'Benz
Batman = Rihanna
Vicki Vale = me
Everything else is pretty accurate except for the random fight between Batman & the henchmen. I really only need to illustrate about 30sec of this video starting at the 5min mark, so if you are impatient...just fast forward.
(Groggy and dazed I wake up in my apartment. My 35mm camera lay on the floor, missing a roll of film. I sniff…what the hell is that smell? I scurry over to the bathroom to discover floater in the toilet. My head started to spin…..Was I foiled by Rihanna? Did she drug me and bring me back home to dispose of me? Was this a dream or some kind of sick love game? And finally, did she leave a terribly malodorous shat in my apartment? I drop to my knees and let out a shrill cry.....my phone begins to ring in the other room. “Dum Dum De Dum, Dum Dum de Dum Disturbia, its like the darkness is the Light, Disturbia….”)
To be continued?
