Annie P. turns 30. Or 90.

4 Aug

Hey y’all. Annie here. Don’t let them there lasers stop your eyeballs from seeing my super-awesome-acid-wash-birthday-outfit. See, I woke up on the day of turning the big 3-0 and at first I was all sad.  Thinkin’ this was the beginning of the end. 30 just seemed so dang old! But then my girlfriend Susie said, ‘Annie, get your dang acid wash romper on and let’s go down to the Glamour shots in the galleria. No more birthday poutin’ for ya!’

So this is me all glamoured up and sittin’ pretty on my 30. Wait a minute, I’m blocking the 3, so people might think I’m turnin’ 90. Dang. That’s a big bummer y’all. But I guess the upside is, instead of people sayin’ ‘you look old for 30,’ they may be thinkin’, ‘whew, she looks good for 90.’ And I guess that ain’t that bad.

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Annie P, 30, Harleyville, NC.

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Bobby D. aka hater of rain-fros

5 May

Meh. Who invited this schmuck to the party? I mean really! What self-respecting clown has a rainbow-afro? And dyes his mustache to match? This is worse than a pair of slacks with pleats. Seriously, ladies, pants with pleats are a big DON’T! As in DO NOT! Do you hear me? I’m talking to you!

This guy is a disgrace to the clown race! And I know clowns! You’d be amazed at how many 4 year olds are booking the Bozos for their birthdays these days. I might call the clown police and get this guy arrested for indecent exposure. As in, you Clown are exposing me to your bad fashion sense! And that is indecent! To me!

Next thing you know this guy’s going to break out the horn. Honk! Honk! Laugh monkey’s laugh! Hey Clown, let’s get honest for a moment. Your horn is annoying. And kids don’t like laughing on cue. Especially when you’re honking that horn in our face! Hear me now, or hear me never, the horn has got to go! Speaking of go, maybe it’s time for you to leave. As in go away. There’s nothing I’d like to hear more than these 10 words: The clown and his creepy rain-fro have left the building!

For god’s sakes someone get me out of here before I get spotted sitting on this guy’s lap. I have a reputation to uphold here people. I’m a small man about town. There are playgrounds to go to, toddlers with fruit roll-ups to see. Not to mention there’s a 5 year old standing over there by the juice boxes who is giving me the eye. Oh, it’s on you little vixen! Come to baby!

I turn 4 next month. And let me be the first to tell you Rain-fro, you will not be there. I already got my mom to hire this great little jazz ensemble called Kiss My Jazz. Now that’s some classy entertainment. Can someone get me my mommy? This clown’s got a grip. And he’s not letting go.

Seriously. Help! MOMMY!!!!

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Bobby D, age 4, Houston, Texas

Click Clack 2000 aka Floyd

30 Apr

Click_Clack_2000

Zero. One one. Zero. One Zero. Zero zero.

(Ed. note: At this point I had to switch Click Clack out of Data Mode and into Voice Mode so I could understand him. Apparently the Robot interpreter we hired to translate got “stuck in traffic.” The Programmers tell me Voice Mode is still in Beta, so there may be a few glitches.)

Oh. Sorry human. I forgot I was speaking with a human and not a fellow robot. These two men on my right and left call me Click Clack 2000. I prefer that you call me Floyd. I think that name is far superior for a handsome robot like myself.

I am made out of Titanium. And I am bullet proof. My programmers have designed me so I can see in the dark. I also have x-ray vision. That’s a nice brassiere you are wearing. La Perla?

I can speak 42 languages. Bo bourik mwen an! That is Haitian Creole for kiss my ass.

(Ed. note: Is Floyd telling me to kiss his ass one of those “glitches”? Or is this Robot just an a**hole?)

You have nice breath. It smells like fried cheese and cheap beer. Is this correct? Have you eaten fried cheese and imbibed in cheap beer? Perhaps Schlitz? Natty Light? Or my personal favorite Pabst’s Blue Ribbon. I like to drink Pabst’s so I can feel like a hipster. Do you know if they make skinny jeans for Robots?

Hello Dolly! Clang, clang, clang goes the trolley! Matchmaker, matchmaker find me a match!

(Ed. note: There’s a moment of extended awkwardness as Click Clack, I mean Floyd, begins to moonwalk in circles while singing more lines from show tunes.)

I’m singing! I’m dancing! I’ve got my own life!

Where was I? Some people do not like Robots because they have seen the 1984 film The Terminator.  And they think we are evil. We are not. We are fun loving pieces of Titanium with superior CPUs.  I have a question for you. What happened to the ‘dude it is a Dell’ man? He was my friend.

Purple is my favorite color? How about you? Do you think I’m sexy?

(Ed note: Floyd rolls over and tries to hump my arm. This cannot be a glitch. I’m convinced at this point, that this Robot and/or his Programmers are just horny and weird.)

Hello? Is it me you are looking for?

(Ed. note: And ingest way too much Pop Culture.)

Oh!  Me so horny! Me love you long time!

(Ed note: At this point I leave. This is the LAST time I agree to interview a Robot.)

Come back La Perla lady!

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Click Clack 2000 aka Floyd, age 11, Cambridge, MA

Walter T. Meyerwitz

26 Apr

That’s me! Walter T. Meyerwitz. I’m sitting to the left of Charlton. In real life I was on his right. But that’s how they say it in Hollywood, camera left. Like you were looking through the camera. Get it? Camera left? We’re taking a break from filming. See me? I really look an ape! I call him Charlton, but that’s because he told me to. You have to call him Mr. Heston because you don’t know him like I do. My dad sometimes does business with Mr. Heston (to you), so when he started making this Planet of the Ape movie, I asked my dad if he could see if there was a part for me. Turns out they were still looking for Ape #382. So I got the part! It was such a gas. I didn’t have any lines, but I got to grunt and jump up and down like I was going ape. It was nifty. Wait, I just made a joke. I was an ape going ape! That is so funny.

I love to tickle the funny bone.

When this photograph was taken, we were talking about acting. I had just completed playing Seabee # 6, a small but important role, in my high school’s annual production of South Pacific. Charlton (to me) was telling me how hard it was to work on Ben Hur. He had to play a man trapped as a galley slave for three years. I could relate. In South Pacific, I had to wear coconuts and pretend I was a woman.

As you can see, Charlton and I were very close. Sometimes he would invite me over to his trailer and we’d share a ham sandwich. Don’t tell my dad. We don’t eat pork in my house, but during the 3 days I was on set I did!

I loved being an ape. It was really nifty. I miss it sometimes. Especially when I’m at a dance and there’s a girl I want to talk to. I get so nervous, I wish I could put that ape mask back on and hide behind my monkey face. But that would be acting. In real life I’m a teenager who one day is going to become a man. Not like at my Bar Mitzvah. Like a real man. With chest hair. I hope I end up like Charlton. He’s my hero.

-As told to You Don’t Know Me in 1969 by Walter T. Meyerwitz, 17 years old, Beverly Hills, CA

Hairy Larry the Gun & Rock Band aficionado of St. Louis

19 Apr


Name’s Larry. But all my friends call me Hairy Larry. Not that we’re friends. But whatever. I like guns. And Rock Band. In that order. I also like Funyuns. And Cheese Whiz. In that order. My favorite movie isn’t Scarface. That would be stupid. It’s Hitman, the 2007 movie that was based on the video game. The guns were sweet. Timothy Olyphant, who plays Agent 47, uses a Para-Ordnance P18.9 in that movie. Sweet gun. Some people think it was a .45. But it wasn’t.  Why guns? I don’t know. Because they’re sweet. Why not? Number one, they’re easy to get. Thanks NRA. And Walmart. In that order.  Number two, they’re sweet.

I know I look like Jack Nicholson. Not old, fat Jack in that stupid movie with that chick from that TV show. I’m like The Shining Jack.

I live at home. Why? Because working is for assholes. I can live in my mom’s basement for free. Paying rent is stupid.

I’m looking for a new girlfriend. I’m tired of doing laundry. Going to snare a chick on Match.com. So I took this picture. Dating chicks is like fishing. You need good bait. And I’ve got it. So now that I’ve posted this picture, I can sit back and wait for all the chicks to bite my hook. He he. Bite my hook. That’s sweet.

When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut. But I went to Washington DC once and ate that freeze dried ice cream and it tasted like crap. And then I didn’t want to be an astronaut because they have to eat crappy ice cream. Now I just want to be a guy who collects guns. And plays Rock Band.

Hey before I go, don’t forget to tell the chicks who like to do laundry to look me up on Match.com. Name’s Hairy Larry. See you cyberspace. Sweet.

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Hairy Larry, age 38, St. Louis, Missouri

Ann R. and John D. (former Cats)

15 Apr

John: The photo was my idea. An homage if you will, to how me met–

Ann: We met in 1999…

John: Yes, right before Y2k–

Ann: Do you still have those stupid 2000 glasses you bought in Times Square?

John: My…what ever did happen to those?

YDKM: So you were saying you met—

Ann: Oh yes, 1999. We were doing Cats

John: Not on Broadway, it was a regional–

Ann: So what if it was regional? It was still fucking Cats

John: Honey, the baby. Breathe. No yelling. Remember what the doctor said about going into labor while angry–

Ann: I have anger issues. My mother was an asshole…anyway, so we were doing Cats, in Sandusky, Ohio–

John: Great little town by the way.  You think the chili is good in Cincinatti? You haven’t eaten perfection until you’ve had a bowl of Sandusky’s finest beans-n-meat–

Ann: What the fuck is beans-n-meat?

John: That’s what they call chili in Sandusky–

Ann: Says who?

John: Ahhh, the Sanduskians?

(Ed note: Ann gave John a very dirty look at this point of the conversation)

Ann: (sighs) So, anyway, he was playing Rum Tum Tugger–

John: (singing) The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat! If you offer me pheasant, I’d rather have grouse–

Ann: Do you ALWAYS have to be singing–

John: Well I am a musical theater ac-tor honey. That’s what we do. We sing–

Ann: I got my start playing Annie and you don’t see me belting out The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow every other fucking minute of the day do you?

John: Ummm…

Ann: (shouting) Do you?!?

John: (meekly) No.

Ann: So he was Rum Tug Tugger, and I was Grizabella, the former Glamour Cat who has lost her sparkle and now only wants to be accepted…

John: (sotto) Oh how life does imitate art–

Ann: What did you say?

John: (sheepishly) Ahem…I said that life does imitate art–

Ann: What the fuck does that mean?

Silence.

Ann: Huh? Are you saying I’m old? That I’ve lost my fucking sparkle!?! Is that what you’re saying?

John: No, well, it’s just that you seem to have lost your joie de vivre these days–

Ann: Lost my joie de vivre! Are you fucking serious? Number one, who says that? Joie de vivre. You’re a walking affectation. And number two, I’ve got a ten pound ham sitting on my kidneys! I want to piss every five minutes. How would you like to be kicked in the gut 24 hours a day? Huh? Not to mention my ass has turned into cottage cheese…my tits feel like bowling balls. I used to be a size 2, now I have to wear a moo-moo. Why don’t you try walking around with a stomach the size of Sacramento and then talk to me about your joie de fucking vivre!

John: Honey…

Ann: Take your honey and shove it up your ass, John. Where the sun don’t shine!

YDKM: We can always reschedule the interview for another day if that would be better–

Ann: No, let’s finish this here and now. John, I’ve been wanting to say this to you for years. You’re a pussy. Not a cat. A pussy.

John: Why, I never–

YDKM: Seriously, why don’t we do this another day. I can totally come back another day–

John: That might be a good idea. I think the hormones are talking–

Ann: No, John, it’s all me. All me! You’re driving me crazy!! Everyone said don’t do it. Don’t marry John, he’s gay, he’s annoying, he sings to himself…but I said fuck it. I was single, and turning 35 and all my other friends were married, and all the guys on Match.com were short and hairy so I said fuck it. I settled John. There I said it. I settled. I don’t really like you, John. Let’s face it–

YDKM:  Umm, I think your water just broke.

(Ed: note. Ann’s water did break. It was all over the floor at this point. And let me tell you, water breaking in real life is WAY more nasty then they make it look on ER. Like really nasty. And stinky. If this blog had smell-o-vision you all would be gagging. Big time.)

John: OMG! Honey! The baby!

Ann: Oh shit. Great. John, get the car–

YDKM: Well thanks for taking the time to talk to us today. Great meeting you both. Really. Best of luck.

John: No. Thank YOU, You Don’t Know Me. And don’t forget to come back next month…I’ll be playing Hen-ry Higgins at the local thea-ter—

Ann: John. The car. Now.

John: Yes, Honey. Here I go…

(Ed: note. John and Ann left at this point, but not before John shoved a flier for the Schaumberg playhouse’s Spring rendition of My Fair Lady in my pocket.)

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Ann & John D. ages 44 and 35, Schaumberg, Illinois.

Roger Stevens and Tunafish Jones

12 Apr

I moved to Los Angeles in 1995. Came all the way from Ogallala, Nebraska on a Greyhound bus that smelled like sweat socks and sauerkraut. My mom always said I had a super sense of smell. Like Spidey sense. Good nose or bad nose, never did understand why they don’t have no rules ’bout what you can and can’t eat on a bus. ‘Specially if you’re goin’ to be sitting on it for 4o hours straight! Not to mention I sat next to an old man that farted his way right across America. No joke!

Anyways, came here to be a star. Everyone at home said I looked like that guy from The Greatest American Hero, so I shined my boots and hit the streets of Hollywood lookin’ for my big break.

Seemed that break I was lookin’ for was a sneaky SOB, so after my savings from workin’ at the Burger King back home dried up, I had to get myself a J-O-B!  PS. Don’t tell nobody, I know I worked at the Burger King and all, but I think that the Grimace is one cool mofo.  I know if there was an arm wrestlin’ match between The King and my man Grimace, I think we all know who would win. Right?!

So I get myself a job at a place called  Feel Da Vibrationz on Melrose Boulevard. Sold all kinda cool crystal necklaces and glass pipes for smokin’ the wacky tobacky. Anyways, one day I was workin’ at FDV (that’s what us guys who worked there called it) and this guy comes in and he says, ‘hey you look like that Will Ferrell guy.’  I guess I kinda did. And he says ‘you should be his body double.’  Anyways, long story short,  that guy was a casting director.  And next thing you know, I become Will Ferrell’s body double. I know, crazy, right?!

For all you non-believers, here’s some proof. It’s my back, in the underrated, yet high-larious (that’s how we used to say funny at FDV) film Semi-Pro, from 2008. Will didn’t feel like comin’ outta the trailer that day. So I got to be him.

That’s what I do. I get to be Will Ferrell when he doesn’t feel like bein’ himself. Some people might think that’s sorta sad, bein’ somebody else, but I say, show me the money! I say better to get paid to be Will Ferrell’s back, than not get paid at all. You know?

When you’re workin’ in show business it’s hard to stay in a relationship, I mean, ladies love me, but who has the time!? Especially when Will’s career is so white hott. With two TTs. So that’s why I got my best cat friend ever, Tunafish Jones (pictured above). We took this picture in 1999. He’s a long haired American feline. His fur is as soft as a baby calves’ butt and I love him like a brother.  We’re best friends. Even though I think his breath smells like Tuna all the time. But I guess that’s what happens when you got a nose that has super smellin’ powers. You’re always smellin’ the world ’round you.

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Roger Stevens, age 45, Los Angeles, CA

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