The Part of Lambchop Will Now Be Played By…

I had Licketysplit’s latest digression read to me by my assistant, Devendra, who had thoughtfully plied me with mocha and placed a pillow just *so*, as he warned that the text contained allusions to tasks and work.  Fortified as I was with chocolate foam and an attitude of unmistakeable leisure, I settled in for a half-hearing on topics that quite naturally give me a bit of a horror, pausing every few moments to laugh sumptuously at Devendra’s pronunciation.  It was an altogether exhausting pursuit, particularly as finances were repeatedly mentioned.  I need pills for that! 

Suddenly, it dawned on me that I should hire someone to *be* me for a spell.  After all, I have been under the weather lately.  Clearly between voting, complaining and curling my lashes, I have overextended myself.  Perhaps lashes are not meant to be this long and thick.  Damn you, Claire Danes! 

I scanned my list of  understudies for candidates that might do me credit for a few days of well-deserved nothingness.  Unfortunately, Parker Posey is not speaking to me at the moment.  Hrmm.  Brittany Murphy, dead, should have crossed that one off.  And it appears that all the others have been whisked off to some unnamed destination in the Maldives for “empathy training” by Tom Cruise, in case any misfortune should befall his current incubator wife.  Well, that is unlucky.  So it is down to Craigslist.  I adopted my last child off of Craigslist and she showed up already knowing how to make a Gin Fizz!  Eastern Europeans really understand initiative.

 My first c-list audition was with Bradley, who I appreciated for the obvious reason that he bothered to appear as the co-ed serial killer, Edmund Kemper. 

Kemper used his mother’s head for a dartboard before putting her vocal chords down the disposal.  Good for you Bradley!

The second audition was a woman named Gary.  She was largely without distinguishing characteristics.  But she did bring me a carrot muffin.  It was a pretty good carrot muffin, but seems like an odd choice in a gifted baked good.  NEXT.

The day wore on with its share of sad sacks seeking employ, wannabe starlets, and outright loons.  This girl seemed promising, but my assistant told me it was Lady Gaga. 

This Lady Gaga person has been running around impersonating ME for the last few years, and I hear she has made quite a bit of scratch at it already.  I threw her out myself, which made my hands quite sticky.  NURSE!

Well, I was beginning to despair that I will not be able to hand over the reins of my existence anytime soon.  But then I remembered that Werner is in town, shilling his new movie.  The one about the little cave paintings.  Surely he has some free time!  Of course he was happy to be of use, as always.  And who wouldn’t thrill at the chance to be me for a few days?

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