The Fix

My boyfriend thinks Ali G is racist. I just don’t think that he understands some of Ali G’s jokes–so when I tell him that he’s a DUMBASS (I’m a nurturer) for not laughing at Ali G, he plays the “I’d laugh if I wasn’t completely morally offended” card–to which I make my “I’ve lost my erection” noise–I’m not sure how to spell that sound. It’s a sort of “Beeeeeyooow,” going downhill noise. So now we’ve been fighting all morning about whether Ali is racist.

Jesus, I think two white people fighting about what’s racist…is racist (or a really good college class). The one time I’ve been called a racist–to my face–was when I broke up with a mixed (half black, half white) guy that I was dating and he told me that I must be happy to be away from him so that I could go back to my “latte lunches and dinner parties.” Being a starving artist who frequented the local food bank quite often, I was like “oh man–that sounds nice…” But he really meant “white activities.” What I was really glad about when we broke up had nothing to do with race…it was more about not having porn playing on the TV all day long as casual ambient soundscapes.

I told my ex that breaking up had nothing to do with race–it had to do with CRAZY. But maybe that’s racist. I have to admit…I’m always thinking people are being racist. I’m like my ex (except for the porno muzak thing). I thought my cab driver in NY was offensive. He referred to a Chinese man as “speaking in Gibberish.” Then he quickly felt guilty and said to me, “I shouldn’t say that. Some Chinese spirit will get mad at me and throw noodles at me in my sleep.” My ex mother in law–a sweet Catholic mother of 8 children, loved and adored by all who know her–got angry when a car stereo salesman tried to “Jew her down.” They know not what they do…well, maybe.

I’m not in the best of moods–I think I’m gonna start working on a book called ‘It’s not fucking true, not EVERYBODY poops’.

I’m at Starbucks in Hollywood and the guy next to me is describing last night’s pitbull attack. “Blood everywhere. I was punching his head trying to get him to let go of the Corgie…you could have dropped bombs on the dog and he wouldn’t have let go…look at that girl…oh fuck, check her out…so you could have dropped bombs on that dog and he wouldn’t have let go.”

What the fuck is wrong with people. Everyone is dumb or a whore. Or talking loudly. I’m in a town of dumb people. Or as I should start to come to think of them, “my people”. In New York it was neurotic and here it’s dumb. As a friend once said to me, “dumb is easier to navigate then neurotic.” True. Now the pitbull guy just said “Women are designed for sex”. Well, I guess that’s why I have those arrows that appeared on me at the age of 22, pointing to various parts of my body–“you can put it here…or here…or up here…or rest it on my shoulder. It’s all good.”

I’m gonna get up and move to another table–I’m gonna get up, scream “RACIST!” and then screech out of the parking lot with Fergie’s “London Bridge” blasting…so everyone is offended.

Weedman was a correspondent on “The Daily Show” with Jon Stewart and lived in New York City right up to the time the Iraq war started. During the Gulf War she lived in Amsterdam and learned Dutch and did odd theatre. When the Iran contra thing was happening she was growing up in Indiana listening to Bowie and Costello. After Kurt died she moved to Seattle and lived there for five years as a writer/performer. She is most well-known for her AWARD winning self absorbed solo shows. Her book, A Woman Trapped in a Woman’s Body, was recently named by the Kirkus Book review as a “Top 10 Indie Book of 2007”. Now she lives in Los Angeles and has had a dreary day appearing on “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and played “hysterical woman” on several episodes of “Reno 911”.
www.laurenweedman.net