Sunday Morn.

The show has been pretty good. Good enough to keep the wolves away and the buzzards from circling. A fellow dealer asked me why I was smiling this morning, as if it was a blue moon occurrence. I said I was a simple guy, it's money or sex and it is definitely not the latter, I assure you. Can't help it if I am such a magnificent combination of brilliant intellect and crude animal cunning. The reality is I think I can pay my bills this month or the lion's share. Yippee.

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The fellow in the smart fedora is the most picturesque customer ever. Great attitude and totally over the top. I get a photo of the outfit every show.

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Have a strange experience to share. A fellow dealer was walking around the show the other day with a parrot on his shoulder. Within earshot, I remarked to a friend "See the ugly wart on that parrot's ass?" The dealer replied with a fitting expletive. About a half hour kidding, I approached him and with a friendly pat on the back, let him know that I was only kidding. He said that he didn't care. In the same horrible moment I looked down at my hand, the palm now liberally coated with at least a 1/2" of prime quality parrot guano. In shades of white and green, no less. Reflexively, I wiped my hand across his back and fled in horror to the restroom. The non english speaking woman attendant signaled that the facility was closed, I raised my dung encrusted palm for inspection to her dismay and ran by anyway to the sink.  I can't really figure out the pleasure in letting a bird shit on you and proclaiming your shat upon pleasure to the world but as they say, it takes all kinds.

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Ate at my favorite klatch, Christies this morning in Burlingame and shared the bar stool with a realtor from Orlando. Single guy, with ten years on me. Conversation got around to Tiger Woods and Michael Jackson and those that would have their way with the 17 year old next door or worse. He said that Michael could have afforded to hire an 18 year old that looked like an 11 year old.

He said that guys like Woods and Clooney, with all of their available paramours should never get married until they are at least 50, then have kids and die in 10 years. I told him my pedophilia joke:

A guy comes home and his wife has the suitcase on the bed and is throwing all of her clothes in it.
"What the hell are you doing?" the man says.
"I'm leaving you, you sob."
"Why, what did I do?"the man says.
"You're a pedophiliac!"
"Pedophiliac huh, mighty big word for a twelve year old."

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Had a fantastic meal at Creola last night with friend Michael. A regular ritual. Shrimp and fennel bisque, blue note salad with poached pears, filet on a polenta cake with red wine reduction and shallots. Ended the meal with the creme brulee bread pudding. Delightful. Washed it all down with a Louis Martini cab.

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