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.
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