Before I and my life coach decided I should simplify my lifestyle, I would take work home to the Gram Ponante National Historic Homestead, Gardens, and Salmon Farm. Guests would wearily remark on the numerous tarps I’d put down to cover all manner of fluids.
“Stop working so hard, Grams,” they would say. “The adult marketplace can survive.”
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU HATERZ,” I would blog at them. “YOUR JUST JEALOUS OF MY FAME. LOOK AT ME! THIS IS YOU: DUH DUH DUH DOY DUH LOLZ PEACE IM OUT LATE MAKIN’ MONEY.”
That is why I was concerned when Courtney Cummz explained that preparation for her weekend of feature dancing engagements at Van Nuys’ elegant Spearmint Rhino involved her installing some practice furniture in her home.
“I even have a stripper pole in my living room,” she said over beignets in my zeppelin. “When my people come out to see me, I want them to know I’m giving my best!”
“STOP SHOUTING AT ME,” I blogged at her, turning my face and whipping out my laptop in disgust. “I’M ONLY HERE TO HELP.
“Courtney,” I said. “You can’t be all rock-hard thighs and high heels all the time.”
She wept softly, but she knew I was right.
“But I want to take my game into the next stratosphere,” she said through her publicist, unable to look at me. “Whatever that means.”
“Take out the stripper pole and replace it with some You,” I said, and paid the check. I wanted to leave her alone with the words that have helped so many, but the zeppelin’s dining area is so small that I only moved a few feet away. It was awkward.
Cummz will be at The Spearmint Rhino through tomorrow.
Previously: “Now I’ve seen everything”; Rita Faltoyano: Dance Shoes for Industry; Honolulu seceds in honor of Thorn homecoming
See also: Courtney Cummz
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