Thursday, July 15, 2004

the second coming of christ...

This is horribly pathetic, but it's all I can think about, so clearly, it's all I'll write about...

So many years ago, when I was the costume bitch at Beach Blanket Babylon, I worked with a god. His name is David, he's wonderfully British, and he's married. Or at least he was. At work, I was barely able to function, I was so madly in love with him. Seriously, I cannot express to you how much I adored David. We'd hang out at Capp's for hours, him with his Newcastle, me with my vodka tonic and lots of lime, talking about England and fashion and how much work sucked. He could read me the dictionary, with that accent. Just keep talking... I could go on for days, but I digress. Anyway, things sucked so much at Beach Blanket that David quit (in a dramatic and bold storming out that is still spoken of in hushed tones), left his wife, and joined the military. I mean really, could he get any hotter? He'd return periodically, in magical and fabulous ways, but I haven't seen him in, like, 2 years.
The last time I ran into him, Zoe and I were watching a friend's band perform at the Lost and Found Saloon in North Beach. All of a sudden, I see the BBB sound guy, Rick, walk in with this beyond foxy creature in a white dress shirt and perfect khakis. Rick comes over and starts talking to us, while his mysterious, hot friend is at the bar. All of a sudden, a vodka tonic with lots of lime slides right up in front of me. I looked up and it was David. Zoe magically disappears from the seat next to me, goes outside to call her husband and explain why we'll now be home incredibly late, and leaves me to drool over David. He was marvelous, hilarious, and as always, fabulously flirty. I kissed him goodbye for about an hour, and that's the last I ever saw of him.
Through the never-ending BBB grapevine, I've heard David is on his way home. Today.
Holy Shit.
He's been in Bagdhad (turns out, war is better than working backstage) for over a year, where he's been jumping out of Blackhawks (I know. How hot is that...), and is finally coming back. Again, today. And, with his predilection for showing up magically and rocking my world, I will leave the house dressed to the nines until I see him. Andy pointed out that he may arrive with his new wife, some Persian Princess or Afghani refugee. But I don't care. The man is a god, people. A god.
Holy shit, you guys. David's coming back. To-fucking-day.

And now, an example of David's genius.

Beth: So, David. What are you doing for Thanksgiving?
David: Well, I'm an Englishman in America, so I think I'll do what my forefathers did.
Beth: What's that?
David: Find a Native American, rape his wife, give him smallpox, and turn him into an alcoholic.

...and that's the moment I fell in love...