Much to the total freaking out chagrin of the dogs, I stayed home from work yesterday. I NEVER stay home from work. I was that sick. I attempted to walk the dogs on Monday, thinking some sun and fresh air would patch me right up and I just needed to suck it up. Who gets sick in the summer?
That turned out to be a huge mistake. I trudged all the way down to the beach, about a 5 minute stroll for someone that doesn't stroll like a shuffling, undead zombie. By the time I made it there, I just wanted to lay down and die. Right there, in the street. And had no idea how I would make it all the way back home. I sat there on a rock for a while, waiting for the vitamin D, pure health from the sun, to kick in and for the dogs to channel Lassie and figure out a way to drag me back, working like the good team that they are. Ha. Trudged the death march back home and boy oh boy, was that the longest walk back from the beach ever. Tiny little shuffling steps, it was all a blur. Spent the rest of the day knocked out, dragged out, and swatting off the tennis balls and skanky stuffed animal carcasses that kept getting plopped onto my face from tiny little vultures swooping in from above me.
It just so happened that my miserability continued onto the day of Michael Jackson's memorial service. Maybe you heard about this. Conveniently brought to every single tv channel in existence. So massive, they shut down the whole Hollywood freeway. And Harbor Freeway. Probably more freeways. You ever tried to drive around LA and they've shut down a WHOLE ENTIRE FREEWAY? Helicopters flew above, live taping the endless line of big black hearse cars, funeral processioning down to the Staples Center, home of the Lakers. You could watch it in English. Spanish. Various Asian languages. Not sure what's usually on tv on Tuesday mornings, but whoever usually watches tv on Tuesday mornings, sorry if you didn't love MJ.
The dogs alternated between insane running through the house with dog toys, trying to get my attention in case I haven't noticed that THERE HAS NOT BEEN A WALK YET OR TRIP TO BEACH OR FOREST and finding it curious that I would be laying on the couch during the day watching tv. That's something new. There was some kind of police activity happening down the street that Otterpop kept hopping into the window to yell at, and I'm all, "OTTERPOP SHUT UP! MICHAEL JACKSON MEMORIAL SERVICE! OTTERPOP! AL SHARPTON!" And I'm yelling over Al Sharpton and Al Sharpton is yelling about Nutting Strange About Your Daddy and Otterpop finally stopped yelling and had some respect. Geez.
I remember watching Princess Diana's funeral procession on tv in the middle of the night. Every single person in England was standing there on the road, and there were massive piles of flowers everywhere. We sat on the couch, trying to stay awake, and were weepy. MJ's procession was a little more weird, a little more B-List and OJ and gaudy, until the moment the brothers brought out the genuine gold plated casket on to the stage, with a gospel choir singing, and I feel really bad for his family. He's still their dead relative, no matter how else you look at it. Princess Di's service just didn't have circus elephants and ticket scalpers and a legacy of plastic surgery and possibility of pedophila lurking under the surface. Or John Mayer. Who the hell is John Mayer?
It got sadder and sadder as it went, might have been a superdome freak show going on outside, but inside was tears and songs and just like every single memorial you ever go to. Except with the same stage backdrop as the Democratic National Convention on sparkly glove night. There were some weird bits. Like a singing British boy that Michael "picked out" and the We Are The World Finale with god awful graphics and a children's choir. Little glimpses of his sons, chomping on gum at their own dad's funeral. A little freaky that all his kids have a haunted, post surgical MJ appearance. Nothing like what he looked like as a kid. Like his surgeries were crafting him into what his kids would eventually look like?
But c'mon. When Auntie Janet let his little girl press in close to the mike, and she busted up the place, said he was the best daddy ever and how much she loves him. Little skinny girl, with a black starched dress and a grandma sanctioned cardigan sweater and patent leather kleenex purse. This was just a really sad memorial for a relative that lived out his life in the public eye. Someone we've known forever. Who could dance up a storm and sparkle like a glove. Even though the sequins hurt Brooke Sheild's hand. Who should have had a hair stylist and been drug off the stage before reading from The Little Prince.
Not the kind of memorial service you see every day. One that I'm glad I didn't miss. Was sad, but weird, touching in scope. A fitting way to remember MJ. The camera copters tailed the motorcade back up the closed off freeway to the valley, where they would all sit down to lunch, and continue to be the Jackson family.
Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
3 comments:
Sorry to hear you were sooooo sick Captain, but in my experience summer illnesses are the *worst*. Dunno why, but they are. When you were recounting the walk home from the beach I was right there with you.
Maybe the Universe wanted you to stay home so that you could witness the Show that was MJ's Memorial/Finale? Even I could not miss out on it, even though have a serious TV allergy, especially to stuff like that. It was bigger than American Idol!!!! Don't know-- perhaps it was the veneer of nostalgia? the poor graphic design? or the gold-plated coffin? I just couldn't get beyond feeling the need to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. I'll take it from you that it was sad. Still can't quite get there from here.
Hope you are sufficiently healed today, Cap'n. Will you be attending Dirt Night? Would like to hear more tales of The Happy Goo.
I've been that sick, where the effort of, say, getting up to visit the Convenience seemed like so much effort that I managed to do it only because the effort of changing the bedding if I didn't would have been a whole lot worse. Although at that point, collapsing on the floor and sleeping there without moving ever again would have seemed like an excellent option. Hope you're much better today. And thanks for watching the MJ service so I didn't have to. On the car radio, the only parts I heard were most of Brooke Shields (good, no Little Prince), and the little girl at the end--so apparently thru sheer luck I got the best parts while on the way to & from the grocery store.
I did attend work. It is hard when your job is to ride the horses and you are dizzy and weak! And also involves yelling when you have the laryngitis! I did attend dirt nite to set it up and teach then came home instead of running any dogs because i would have just ended up all curled inside the chute, expired. Goo did several happy little teeters before my expiration date came up though. Now it is expired.
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