You know, sometimes I almost like my life. Last week I was in the local Gelson’s supermarket and there, standing in line, was the more than fabulous Mary Woronov. That’s her above in a Warhol screentest. This is her below in Chelsea Girls:
In fact I’ve met Mary once or twice but I wasn’t absolutely sure she’d recognize me, but I said hello and she did seem to clock that I wasn’t just some crazed fan bothering her in the supermarket, and I said, “I didn’t know this was your local supermarket,” and she said, “Oh it’s not. But I walk my dogs up in the park and then afterwards they get to eat roast beef.” And she brandished a pack of roast beef she’d just bought at the counter. This is, more or less, how she looks today.
Now, I happen to know how much roast beef costs at Gelson’s deli counter – basically, if you have to ask you can’t afford it. And, without thinking I said, “Oh, I’ll be your dog Mary.” How we laughed.
And it occurred to me that this kind of thing just possibly might not have happened to me if I didn’t live in Hollywood. Afterwards I wondered if I should have said, "No sugar cookies, Mary?" referring to her movie Sugar Cookies - summarized thus on imdv, "A film producer murders his star actress during an erotic 'game' and makes it look like suicide. The dead girl's lesbian lover discovers what happened, and plots her revenge." (Guess who play's the lesbian lover). But on balance I'm glad I stuck with offering to be her dog.