My wonderful friend of 25 years, from “Merle Dean Sings ‘Honey, You’ve Got the Wrong House’ Blues“, let a funny, little Jewish cat out of its proverbial bag today. We were discussing the dumbest man on the planet, Anthony Just Toasted His Own Weiner, and I mentioned his name reminded me of the scene from “There’s Something About Mary’, where Ben Stiller gets his weiner caught in the zipper of his prom tux, and Cameron Diaz’ brother exuberantly chants, “Franks and beans, franks and beans” over and over. Merle Dean then informed me that she had spent one year as Ben Stiller’s babysitter when he was two years old! I’ve known her for 25 years and this was the first time this little factoid had crossed my eardrums. As a teenager, she had lived in the same building as Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, and was recommended as a reliable babysitter. SHUT UP!
I kept marveling at how she’d never mentioned this amazing information to me before, but then realized that the last time I saw her in person, Ben Stiller was not yet a household name. She said what she remembers all these years later was that he had quite the expansive nappy JewFro sitting atop his obnoxious wee head,
and that all he would ever eat was cold pasta, smacking his mouth wide open the whole time he chewed.
I just can’t wrap my head around the idea of my elegant, perfectionist, fastidious fashionista friend spending any time whatsoever with ANYTHING that cries, pees and poops. Though she was only sixteen at the time, here is the scene as I envision it.
Regal Teen Girl rings apartment doorbell. Mummy Anne Meara answers, raspy New Yawk accent barking out a long list of instructions which will enhance Little Benji’s evening away from Mummy and Daddie. Vertically challenged Mr. Stiller enters foyer to assist the Mrs. with her coat, all the while winking and leering at Regal Teen Babysitter. Little Benji comes charging out to say a final goodbye to parental units, and catches sight of his new babysitter. As he gazes far up at her, he wanders if he will ever be as tall as she, but then his eyes latch onto her boobies, and a wicked grin forms as he reaches out tiny hands and begins making twisting motions, as though he’s trying to adjust dials on a radio.
With a smile frozen in place, Regal Teen manages to hold onto her sanity until the elevator arrives to swallow up Mummy and Daddie, at which point she slowly turns to Little Benji with the menacing sneer of Cruella Deville, and purrs, “Listen, you Little Focker, you so much as think about touching me, I will turn you into the ultimate Heartbreak Kid. I will unleash so much Tropic Thunder on your scrawny Mick Jew ass you will wish you knew Something About Mary AND Jesus. I will send you and your cold gooey pasta to live with the lions and tigers at the Zoolander. DO YOU HEAR ME?!? And by the way, when my boyfriend, The Cable Guy, gets here, you better make yourself scarce, otherwise you might be spending your Night at the Museum, all by your lonesome.”.
With a chastened nod of his tiny fro head, Little Benji agrees not to tell Mummy and Daddie and Regal Teen then heads straight to the liquor cabinet where she unleashes the tequila, the worm, and her inner goddess. Come to think of it, I bet my friend was the inspiration for many of Ben’s comedic ideas. Gurlfriend, can you spell ‘your cut of the royalties“? This could be your moment to lawyer up.
Today my wonderful friend leaves a lifetime of living in NY, and becomes my Statemate in North Carolina. All is right with the world!
Yesterday, Paco the Pizza Boy moved into his first college apartment. He sublet a bedroom from the former tenant for June and July, before he and three friends move into a fresh clean place. I mention those two words ‘fresh‘ and ‘clean‘ with longing. I clearly understand why the leasing company for this student housing only shows parents the model unit. Seeing Paco’s new place for the first time yesterday was the kind of shock one gets when you’re walking down a crowded street, the wind swirls your skirt up, and you realize you aren’t wearing panties. We were greeted by three spilled bags of trash on the landing, which mostly contained beer cans. There was the smell of decaying flesh the moment you crossed the threshold. Trust me, I know about these things from following the Casey Anthony trial. The multiple carpet stains resembled a map of the world, but the best was the en suite bathroom. Archaeology students, heads up. If you’re looking for a dig site, I’ll happily share this Greenville address with you, because there must be a wealth of Mayan and Incan artifacts waiting to be unearthed in the bathtub alone!
Samples of cultural and societal rituals remain prominently displayed on the inner rim of the toilet; the end result of the 20 or so liquor bottles proudly displayed above the kitchen cabinets. Booze as a decorator accessory; nice touch, subtle. I momentarily flirted with the idea of calling in Nikki, my former Goth cleaning lady, but quickly realized no witch should be subjected to a scene as vile as this. Are ALL teenage boys beasts with furniture, or did I just draw the short straw?
Heading out today for three days chaperoning seven newly graduated seniors on a trip to Ocracoke. I wonder how many live bodies we’ll be returning with? This occasion should be ripe for blog fodder!