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Mar. 17th, 2006 08:51 amFinally Cirque de Méprise sent me some pictures.
This one's my fave:
That's Katya the contortionist and Tiny Tim, the World's Smallest Horse. Wouldn't you like your photo taken with them for ten bucks? Ray Perdu – the gentleman in the Liberace morning coat – thinks you would! Katya's expression is so dreamy. Thank God my Russian mobster boyfriend made me join the circus, she's thinking. Thank God we didn't go to Tijuana – where the horses are so much bigger…
I really don't know what Tiny Tim is thinking.
From the road, Valerie writes, "I blew up a tire on I-10 coming from Willcox to Sierra Vista, and more troubles began."
The midget playing traffic cop! That's the photograph I really want to have.
Valerie keeps a blog of her adventures as a circus camp follower. In the beginning, the blog was supposed to be a PR thing. But though personally I find her accounts absolutely fascinating, the blog is totally useless to me from a PR perspective. I mean, I wouldn't run to buy circus tickets after reading it. I would run to call the Child Protective Services because somewhere there's three month old baby, leaking green snot from one end and green diarrhea from the other, whose mother is breastfeeding it while speeding down the highway at 80 miles an hour in a truck with no brakes!
Valerie's choice is an interesting one. I thought I made bad choices, but no-oo-o-o! I am King Solomon compared to Valerie. Valerie gave up a career as a newspaper reporter to hook up with Fridman, the Peruvian Rolla Bolla guy. I will grant you that Fridman is amazingly cute, but now they have a sick baby, an RV whose warranty isn't holding up and no green cards, plus I guarantee they're not having hot, sweaty sex anymore.
And Valerie kind of annoys me. She's very pushy. She's constantly pestering me for instructions about RSS feeds and free software. I do not have time to walk her through RSS feeds. If I give her free software, I am violating various copyright protection laws which means the FBI will show up on my doorstep and I'll be summering in Guantanamo Bay. More importantly, though, neither of these things is in my job description.
Nevertheless, I give the stuff to her because even though I'm mean-spirited, sarcastic and approximately ten feet tall, it's impossible for me ever to say no to anyone. Wallowing in a perpetual aftermath of resentment and bitter invective is its own kind of pleasure, you see.
Plus I do feel really sorry for Valerie. Vai is mir! The life she lives, with a new baby! I have squirreled away about $100 worth of 9 month old baby clothes which I'll give to her when I have to go hook up with the circus myself – probably Ventura in late April. (Don't worry. I don't have to travel with them. Just hang out for a few days.)
This one's my fave:
That's Katya the contortionist and Tiny Tim, the World's Smallest Horse. Wouldn't you like your photo taken with them for ten bucks? Ray Perdu – the gentleman in the Liberace morning coat – thinks you would! Katya's expression is so dreamy. Thank God my Russian mobster boyfriend made me join the circus, she's thinking. Thank God we didn't go to Tijuana – where the horses are so much bigger…
I really don't know what Tiny Tim is thinking.
From the road, Valerie writes, "I blew up a tire on I-10 coming from Willcox to Sierra Vista, and more troubles began."
Saul and el tio Tito, who were behind us, stopped to help. That's the good thing about traveling with the circus, there will always be someone who stops to help you when you're having trouble on the road. It makes you feel safe. Saul was traveling with the new clown the circus brought over from Mexico, a midget. He made hand signals to help me maneuver the trailer according to Fridman's orders, and this made for a interesting little scene over there on the side of highway 90: two big rigs, two small rigs and a midget making sign language in between.
The midget playing traffic cop! That's the photograph I really want to have.
Valerie keeps a blog of her adventures as a circus camp follower. In the beginning, the blog was supposed to be a PR thing. But though personally I find her accounts absolutely fascinating, the blog is totally useless to me from a PR perspective. I mean, I wouldn't run to buy circus tickets after reading it. I would run to call the Child Protective Services because somewhere there's three month old baby, leaking green snot from one end and green diarrhea from the other, whose mother is breastfeeding it while speeding down the highway at 80 miles an hour in a truck with no brakes!
Valerie's choice is an interesting one. I thought I made bad choices, but no-oo-o-o! I am King Solomon compared to Valerie. Valerie gave up a career as a newspaper reporter to hook up with Fridman, the Peruvian Rolla Bolla guy. I will grant you that Fridman is amazingly cute, but now they have a sick baby, an RV whose warranty isn't holding up and no green cards, plus I guarantee they're not having hot, sweaty sex anymore.
And Valerie kind of annoys me. She's very pushy. She's constantly pestering me for instructions about RSS feeds and free software. I do not have time to walk her through RSS feeds. If I give her free software, I am violating various copyright protection laws which means the FBI will show up on my doorstep and I'll be summering in Guantanamo Bay. More importantly, though, neither of these things is in my job description.
Nevertheless, I give the stuff to her because even though I'm mean-spirited, sarcastic and approximately ten feet tall, it's impossible for me ever to say no to anyone. Wallowing in a perpetual aftermath of resentment and bitter invective is its own kind of pleasure, you see.
Plus I do feel really sorry for Valerie. Vai is mir! The life she lives, with a new baby! I have squirreled away about $100 worth of 9 month old baby clothes which I'll give to her when I have to go hook up with the circus myself – probably Ventura in late April. (Don't worry. I don't have to travel with them. Just hang out for a few days.)
