back to the universe

applying for jobs is tedious and boring. that said, whilest i was perusing old resumes on my computer, i found this little diddy that i wrote prior to the blog's birth. i don't think i ever posted it.... also: kurt, liz where the hell are you guys, your absence is offensive.

January 2004: more lunchtime fun in b. hills.

today, cara (fellow assistant) got free baja fresh coupons from her agent (i get free computer magazines), so we ventured up beverly boulevard for lunch on this warm, sunny afternoon. completely normal, until "the prophet" showed up. we were sitting near the salsa station; on one side of us there were two beverly hills cops (ha, beverly hills cop...right) and on the other side were some undercover agents (complete with inconspicuous ear pieces)....shortly fter we sit down, a very thin, "mature" woman wanders up to the salsas, but uddenly turns and starts animatedly talking to the cops.....

mental image: dressed for a power walk in crazytown, she stood out in the corporate lunch crowd. dirty white tennis shoes, blazing red cropped pandex, a fanny pack, american flag purse, white loose tank top complete with a costume jewelry pin attached, yellow headphones and a matching baseball cap with her ponytail pulled through.....oh she was also adorned with other arious semi-precious stones and metals.

we thought she was just having a random conversation with the cops, probably pertaining to salsa and/or fighting high-class crime. i paid little attention until i could see the cops were about to charge her with disturbing their burrito eating peace. being good gentleman, they logically suggested she go talk to the undercover guys.

so she meanders over to the unsuspecting boys in suits and strikes up what i assume is the same convo. by this point cara and i are deeply involved, like it's a crucial episode of must see tv, only we have no idea what anyone's saying. somehow we could tell something is definitely not right with this woman. the undercover guys are in visible agony and the uniform cops are doubled over in laughter, evidently pleased with the turn of events.

tragically, our must see tv turned into a reality program when i could feel her eyes on me. she tired of the cops and began lurking behind me like i was her prey. seeing the fear in cara's eyes proved my suspicions. i panicked for a minute, sat very still, then thought i was in the clear. only then did i make the most phenomenal error of looking over my shoulder.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! she was there, peering around me, ready to eat my flesh. she looks me up and down quizzically then in a european accent says, "hmm well you're cute"....her eyes dart to cara...."you're cute too. are you sisters?" uh no, just friends thanks (go away, please go away). i couldn't bear to look up and see the cops & suits laughing at us as payback, so we just put on pleasant smiles and tried to hear what she was mumbling.

at this point, i could tell she's a SoCal native since her long hair was playmate blond and "complimented" by skin that was tanned and freckled from ages of
exposure. her eyes were lined with a thick coat of freakish lime green eyeliner. her face was covered in an ill-matched powder and she had a serious streak of crazy gleaming in her eyes. i tried not to look directly at her for fear she'd start chanting and place a curse on us. finally she asks "where we're from." dumbfounded, we didn't answer, so she specifies wanting to know "our heritage." we answer, but this is clearly not what she was going for. "mumble mumble, where are you going to go, where will you end up mumble mumble from foreign lands?" again, we are mute, completely unable to answer logical
questions.

"we're going back to work. uh we're going to live in america for a while longer...." nodding, smiling, hoping she'll go away. finally fed up with our ignorance she launches into her point..."you are going back to Father Universe." whaaaaaaat? she's loonier than we realized. "you are going back to where you came, Father Universe (FU) created you and you will return to him." lots of mumbling at this point and we missed that half of our crystal ball fortune care of the red pants prophet.

She doesn't stop. the cops don't intervene. we're trapped. our burritos are getting cold. she continues on, so i start locating all exits and possible convo enders. FU now became God and she mentions how we must listen to Him and how she listens to (possibly talks to) Him all the time..."i listened to Him this
morning and He told me to mumble mumble mumble.....".

suddenly she pulls what looks like a square perfume bottle from her cleavage..it was a water bottle that was previously not visible at all (the big G probably reminded her to fill it this morning) and takes a huge swig. stunned by the magic show and apparent death of sanity, i don't know how the convo ended, i think i blacked out.... but finally she was gone....and we were confused. i'm surprised she didn't give us a business card to "Vilma's house of crazy".

granted she had a point and wasn't way off base depending on your belief system, but she wasn't even there for lunch, she was just walking in and out of places, telling us our fate... she stopped her line of preaching with us and walked right out...cara saw her dancing on the street corner through the glass and then she headed for Johnny Rockets. those poor people...they're just trying to enjoy their shakes.

on our way out i felt it necessary to commiserate with the fellow universe dwellers in suits, so i asked if they too listened to God this morning? suit #1 said he did, and that when she asked his nationality (he's very white), he said he was african american, just to mess with her. so i laughed, called him an ass and left. there you have it folks...and remember you heard it hear first....listen to God, b/c he's always talkin and no matter what you do, you're goin back to papa universe.

is this what happens when you stay in LA too long? you become a bitch, a hippie or you get hair extensions and start talking directly to God??? upon telling coworkers about this, it seems this loon is a bit of a beverly hills institution. having an encounter with her is more of a "right of passage" than a freak incident. she always wears red. bright, cherry red.

we saw her again at a cafe yesterday and promptly turned to stare out the window until she left. same outfit, different hat and she was holding a sack of oranges. again, she didn't buy anything, just wandered in and out.

Posted by missy at June 13, 2005 1:39 AM