......................................I was once known as Aquarians Love To Fuck (ALT-F). I am now Vagina Dentata (VD)......................................


Friday

The Tutor Is A Pimp!

Subject:  Personal Appearance Inquiry

Dear Ms. So and So,

Please excuse this intrusion into your life, both personal and professional, but I have been asked to arrange an assignation between my dear friend, Griselda and one Mr. Anthony Bourdain.

Though many consider the fair Griselda as “Not impossible to ignore”, I do not have such fortitude.
For your entertainment and for purposes of due diligence, please find below a verbatim transcript of a most recent email exchange between yours truly and the not-at-all-stalker-esque Griselda.  Griselda’s mellifluous verbal poison is rendered in Redto reflect the flaming crimson of her ardour.
Mine, in Black:  to reflect the despair deep in my soul for ever having met her.

To wit:


Griselda writes:


Why don't you be a love and email Bourdain's agent and set up him taking me to dinner for my birthday.  Don't mention my food allergies and potential for needing an emergency traecheotomy (too lazy to check spelling).


The Tutor responds:


Too lazy indeed!  Too lazy to formulate a decent sentence as well, it would seem.

".....email Bourdain's agent and set up him taking me to dinner...."

Don't mention your food allergies?  Are you mad?  
Your allergies and the possibility of getting to perform a Bic pen tracheostomy on you would clinch a dinner invite for sure!
Great television!
I can just see him incising your throat with that dull knife he used to ‘hack’ off the heads of those scrawny chickens on that boat during his "Heart of Darkness" episode in "The Congo".  And then later, relaxing at the bar with a beer, he regales the Wait Staff as he reminisces about doing acid, shitting ant heads and practicing tracheostomies on his buddies in his smoky dorm room.

Meanwhile your colour slowly comes back and you "whistle" riffs from “The End” by Mr. Morrison and his Doors through your new Baron Bic (pronounced ' Beesh') fashion accessory.
Mr. Bourdain, if he is anything, he is badass!
Though I was a little disappointed he did not sample some grilled Lowland Gorilla during his “Heart of Darkness” episode - at least not on camera (The confiscated footage perhaps?).  Surely Gorilla would have been available at one of the “Street Meat” BBQ kiosks one finds all over The Congo?

On a sad note, “The Congo” episode reminded me of that terrible week in late summer ’97 when we, the World, lost forever, “The Good, The Bad And The Ugly” (Lady Di, Sese Seko and Mother Teresa.  Not necessarily in that order).
What is the manager's email?


Griselda responded:


You're rght. And him stabbing me in the throat would be hot! Here is my list of allergies:
Nuts
Shellfish
Bananas
Tomatoes
All grains
Citrus
Avocado
Egg yolks
Dairy
Corn
Carrots

At least tell him I'm a reasonably cute Ginger and I drink. And please can I proof your letter first? :-)



The Tutor responded:


Jeez!  Is there anything you can eat?  Lettuce and Fairy dust perhaps?  Nuts?
Does that include legumes(peanuts) and drupes(walnuts, pecans) as well as true nuts(chestnuts, hazelnuts)?
Will it matter if he discovers you are a fucking Scorpio? 


Griselda replied:


I can do NYC or New Orleans. Getting ripped at a Saints game then eating our way thru the French Quarter back to my house would be my preference. He probably isn't a sports fan, but even haters love the Saints, cuz they're badassI'll be right back with the email addy.
And btw, he is 6'4. *swoon* . High heels for me!



Griselda replied yet again:

Ms. So and So
events@thecongo.com

Do NOT include my email address. I don't want to be put on their stalker watchlist already.



Griselda replied some more:


And don't get cute and work yourself into my dinner date! He won't be impressed with your fucking UN passport!


The Tutor riposted:


Yes he would.  Everyone is; except Boutros Boutros-Ghalli, nothing ever impressed him.  And the ‘Taints’ are not badass: the New Zealand All Blacks are badass!
Haka!


Griselda responded:


Oh! The clothing optional dinner/sauna/pool place in NOLA might be a good shoot location! It's called The Country Club. I'm a member, so I can get him in


Griselda responded yet again:


And I'm not angling to be on the show. Please make that clear...that I'm not a fame whore. I merely want his company for dinner and wha's his "personal appearance fee"?.


And finally Griselda related:


Ok, I've rethought this and feel I should probably play up my willingness to have anaphylactic seizures for entertainment purposes. His, not the viewing audience's.

Therefore, I've reconsidered our New Orleans date night/food tour. We will start at a Saints game where I will consume grain alcohol and pretzels. I will then drive us to St. Tammany Parish where we will attend a shrimp boil amongst serious weirdos. (He will enjoy my drunk driving across the Lake Pontchartrain causeway. It's only a couple of feet above the water, unlit, with low guard rails. Think Congo River with better company. If I miraculously survive dinner, I will eat pralines for dessert. But dinner will likely kill me.

He should know I'm one of those "swift-onset" types. I'll be gasping and borderline unconscious in two minutes, tops. And there are no nearby hospitals, and even if there were, I would not be prioritized over gunshot wounds in the ER. Even though I'm white. Fucked up, innit?

Now, the good thing about me? I'm a cute anaphylctic. I don't break out in itchy scales or throw up. My reactions are more....Shakespearean. I get light-headed, I choke for air while shaking delicately, and then I pass out. Sometimes I panic when I feel it coming on, but that's only evident by confusion and a few tears. No sweating or screaming or any real hysteria. He can finish his drink before attending to me. If he needs to unbutton my blouse to check my heartbeat, I'm ok with that. I only have a few memories of maternal guidance....one was "elbows off the table, Mabel" and the other was "always wear nice undergarments because you never know when you might wind up in the hospital".

Now, about my Epi-pen allergy. It is apparently impossible to be allergic to Epinephrine, or so a dentist once told me, prior to throwing me out of his office. Latex gloves were the culprit. (Did I have "latex" on my list of allergies? Probably not. Seems I also omitted it that day at the dentist's).

Anyway, psychosomatic or not, I have an adverse reaction to adrenaline, and Bourdain can simply avoid that step. If he wants to jab me in the thigh, he can use something else.

More later. I have to move my car(s) now.



Ms. So and So, there was no more prose forthcoming.  I did not respond.
Isn't she just to have die for?
I love her th...................is(1) much!  Is Mr. Bourdain available mid-November, this year?  What remuneration would be requested for a “Personal Appearance”?  Who pays for dinner and any assorted incidentals?
References for, and photographs of, the fey Giselda available on request.

(1) Not to scale.

Thank you in advance, Ms. So and So, for your indulgence in this matter.  My conscience is now clear.

Regards,

Bilious C. Pudenda, aka TheTutor.





UPDATE
October 2016
If there are any fucking Yankees reading this, firstly congratulations!  Your country-wide Bicentennial Project of 1976 to ensure that at least one citizen successfully matriculates high school as lettered before 2010 has paid off.
Secondly, fuck off!

1 comment:

Sterculian Rhetoric said...

I take no joy in his passing.
I liked the man.

My urge incontinence is a result of my chronic state of ABBAject elation now that themselves have recorded new material.

$10,000?

If denoted in CDN, the cheque is in the mail.
If denoted in US, the check is in the mail.

Feckless cunt? Indeed, but as far as feckless cunts go, I am one of the most inefficacious of the lot.