Jeremy's North American World Tour

If you are a new reader, you might not have read the first installment of the legendary Lady Estrogen and Jeremy London imaginary conversation. Have a quick read, because like most sequels, apart from being tragically inferior to the original, previous plot lines are often referenced, so to have seen the original BEFORE the sequel is usually a good idea... unless you like being confused... if so, by all means, read on.

Lady Estrogen is sitting in a dark leather chair with an identical one across from her and a low coffee table sits in between; she is waiting for Jeremy. She is leaning over the table, reading the newspaper when he arrives and he collapses into the opposite chair with a deflated sigh.

Lady Estrogen: Welcome back! How was your trip?

Jeremy London: Exhausting and a little bizarre; I'm still recovering from it all.

LE: So, visiting your fans wasn't what you thought?

JL: To put it mildly.

LE: Well, don't keep me in suspense - show me the damn photos!

JL: OK, so the first stop was to meet Barbara in Ohio. She was ready and waiting when I arrived.

LE: She did her hair all pretty like, just for you. Aweeee.

JL: She slobbered on me... (winces) and it tasted like spam.

LE: Yum.

JL: Then this guy, Darren, told us to meet him in the forest somewhere in Northern Michigan; it was a little off-putting.

LE: I'm sure it was.

JL: He asked if he could kiss my pegasus. I still don't know how he knew I had a pet miniature pegasus.

LE: I don't think he said 'Pegasus', Jeremy.

JL: Well, he seemed to enjoy giving Persephone a little smootch.

LE: Persephone?

JL: YES! What the hell would you call YOUR pet pegasus? 

LE: I never really thought about it. I'm just impressed by your alliteration skills.

JL: You're a bitch.

LE: What can I say? You bring out the best in me.

JL: AAAANYWAY, we then met up with this Raymond character in Sault Saint Marie. His house smelled like moth balls and dirty boxer shorts; I tried not to be more than 4 feet from any given exit route.

LE: I like his glasses - très sexy. Are they Transition lenses?

JL: Seriously?

LE: What? It's a genuine question.

JL: I don't fucking know, nor do I care. I'm just relieved I got out of there without him pushing me into a hole in his basement.

LE: I would have saved you.

JL: Whatever. After I left his place, I took a hot shower and scrubbed the creepy off me.

LE (winks): I'm sure he took a shower too.

JL: Thanks for that; I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

LE: It's one of my many talents; I've gotta be me.

JL: Please, for the love of fuck, don't start singing.

LE: Ugh. FINE.

JL: Then, we made it to Toronto just in time to witness the Slut Walk; it was good times.

LE: I'm sure you were a big supporter.

JL: Anything for a good cause, right? I tried to enjoy it from a distance.

LE: What's wrong? Too scared to mingle up close with the local sluts?

JL: I never said I was a man of the people... just a man FOR the people.

LE: That's from Gladiator.

JL: Shit.

LE: You should know better than to try and sneak a movie quote passed me. I mean, really, Jeremy. It's like sometimes you don't know me at all.

JL (rolls his eyes): Anyhow, I have to get going.

LE: You just got here! You're always in a hurry when you come meet with me.

JL: What can I say? YOU bring out the "I just remembered I gotta be somewhere else" in me.

LE: It's a fine line between love and hate, isn't it? 

JL: Yup. I balance that shit like a ginger midget on a tight rope.

LE: You just HAD to throw in a midget reference, didn't you?

JL: It's all apart of that same fine line.

LE: Saint Jeremy, slayer of cunt dragons and lover of ginger midgets.

JL: Don't try to bring that stupid shit up with me again, I'm NOT going to do a movie about cunt dragons.

LE: Even if it was an Arthouse flick?

JL: Look at my face.

LE: I'm looking.

JL: What is my face telling you?

LE: That you're annoyed with me and ...also? That you actually love cunt dragons. Am I right?

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In honor of my 200th post, and because Jeremy London is such an awesome sport about all this, 

I'll be giving away one of my infamous Cunt Dragon mugs! YAY! 

Everyone that leaves a comment will be entered into the draw. GOOD LUCK!

Me, Myself & Jeremy

This is a purely hypothetical conversation that I've never had with Jeremy London, casting myself as an agent-slash-scriptwriter. Although it's totally ridiculous logical, I thoroughly I believe that if he ever actually read it, he'd say, "Wow, Lady E, you hit the nail right on the proverbial head with this one; it's like we've had this conversation in a parallel universe."

Yes, Jeremy London; a parallel universe, indeed.

The café is dark; the burgundy walls are randomly littered with Gothic style paintings which hide the disrepair of the walls. The light is low - glowing from tiny teardrop lights that dangle above every table. Jeremy is already seated at a table against the far wall, drinking an iced tea and tweeting something from his phone. He's laughing at himself; he thinks everything he tweets is exceptionally clever.

Lady Estrogen: Hi Jeremy. We need to get you into one of my screen plays.

Jeremy London: It's nice to see you too. I have been busy, you know.

LE: Yeah, yeah. I don't mean TwitterPimp big; I mean BIG - like, Ferris Bueller big. (pause) You know... you would have been really good in that movie.

JL: I was only 14 when it came out.

LE: Fine. Whatever. It's not like we can go back in time and cast you in it anyway. Don't split hairs with me, Jeremy. (Waitress brings her cappuccino to the table. She looks up and smiles.) Thank you.

Waitress: You're welcome. (She looks at JL while talking to LE)

LE: Oh, please. (Waitress leaves) How about I write you in something like an action/adventure where you go searching for some lost, important artifact?

JL: Like Indiana Jones? Or Laura Croft?

LE: Dammit. I forgot about them. Hhhhhow about one where you have to destroy a meteor that's going to crash into the earth?

JL: Like Armageddon? Or Deep Impact?

LE: Fuck! This is harder than I thought. What about a couple of guys that just got dumped by their girlfriends and they wander aimlessly... let's say... around a mall, to search for meaning and redemption?

JL: You're an idiot. I've already done THAT one... over 15 years ago.

LE: Shit. I knew it sounded familiar. I have a lot of ideas, you know. I'm just scratching the surface.

JL: Was that supposed to be funny?

LE: I do try.

JL: It wasn't.

LE: Maybe you need to do something with some serious 'edge', ooooo, like 'The Cunt Dragon Slayer'.

JL: What the fuck is a Cunt Dragon? Besides, that word won't go over well; Hollywood is a cruel bitch.

LE: What? Slightly offensive, yet mythical creatures are forbidden but Kevin can do a movie with bestiality and discuss going ass-to-mouth?

JL: Yep. And look how well that one did.

LE: I guess so. It's still bullshit though. How about if it was an off-Broadway musical?

JL: No.

LE: Theatrical production?

JL: NO!

(LE pauses for a deep thought while JL takes the last sip of his drink and the ice rattles in the glass.)

LE: Can I take a photo of you holding a sign that says, "I Love Cunt Dragons"?

(Long pause; JL looks severely annoyed, unimpressed and deflated.)

JL: No.

LE: You disappoint me, Jeremy.

JL: Well, I have to get going. It's been...

LE: Fun? Enlightening? A pleasure, as usual?

JL: (Rolling his eyes) Yeah, sure.

(He gets up and starts walking away; leaving LE sitting at the table.)

LE: I still have big plans for you, ya know. (Raising her voice as he's exiting the café) BIG FUCKING PLANS, JEREMY!

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Part Two - The dramatic sequel can be read here.

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A Promise to Keep

A young couple lay in bed together one night; nothing special about this night, just a regular week night; it’s Wednesday. The wife is 33 weeks pregnant and tired. She has to get up early for work in the morning. Her husband is resting his head on her round belly and talking to his unborn child. His wife wishes he would stop so she could go to sleep, but is equally touched by this tender moment, so she lets him continue.

He keeps his hands on her belly and looks up at her. “I know we think it’s going to be a boy, but just in case it’s a girl, promise me you’ll name her Stephanie.”

“It’s a boy.”

“But still, seriously, I mean it; promise me!”

“What is up with you? We can make these decisions together, so don’t stress!”

“I’ve always thought that Stephanie is a pretty name, so if it’s a girl, that’s what I want her name to be, OK?”

“OK! But it IS a boy.”

“Buuuuuuut, if it’s not?”

“Right, OK, geeze! Stephanie it is. I promise, cross my heart.”

“See! Was that so hard? Thank you!”

She smiled as he kissed her once on the lips and again on her belly and then they went to sleep.

In the middle of the night, he awoke and went into the kitchen. He was usually a sound sleeper so when he left, it woke up his wife. She rolled out of bed and found him in the kitchen making a giant sized sandwich.
“What are you doing up? It’s 2am!”

“I have no idea! I woke up absolutely starving. I feel like I’m going on a long journey and I need to stock up.”

“A journey? What the hell does that mean?”

“Again, I have no idea. All I know is that I wanna eat this wicked 'wich, and then I’ll come back to bed; don’t wait up.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” 
And she went back to bed.

The alarm clock screamed in their ears for the fifth time on snooze rotation; they had over-slept. They frantically got ready in their tiny apartment, trying to make up time and constantly fumbled around each other. As usual, she was ready first and dashed out the front door to catch her bus. She had hobbled half way down the hallway of their apartment building when her goofy husband burst out their door and into the middle of the hallway wearing nothing but his underwear and his toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He took it out and waved it in the air like a wand while proclaiming, “Baby! Have a good day! I love ya, sweet cheeks!”

She rolled her eyes and laughed in both admiration and embarrassment, “Love you too... now for God’s sake, go put some clothes on!” She turned back to leave and get into the elevator; she could still hear her husband’s pathetic singing voice muffled off in the distance, “Llllooveeeee yoouuu!”

She was able to catch the bus and even got a bit of sleep on the 1/2 hour commute. When she got off at her stop, her mother was waiting at the front steps. She wasn’t overly close with her mother and the sight of her waiting at the place where she worked gave her a sudden and overwhelmingly sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Sweetheart, I need you to be calm.”

“What’s going on? Tell me now! Why do I need to be calm?”

“It’s your husband. His dad went to pick him up for work and found him in the bathroom... on the floor. He tried everything to revive him but...”

“OK. Did he have a seizure? He hasn't had one in forever, but still...what's the big deal?”

“Honey, he’s at the hospital now; they are waiting for you... but... darling... he didn’t make it.”

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This post is in memory of my father, who passed away 33 years ago this week. This is a true recollection of the night before and the morning of his passing, according to my mother. I was that baby girl and my mother kept her promise to him and named me Stephanie. I was born 6 weeks later, on what would have been his 25th birthday.

The Town Drunk

I wasn’t exactly going to be the Prom Queen when I was in high school, but on this particular day I was even less attractive – and that was the day Danny asked me out. I was on the city bus, coming home from the dentist, having just had a root canal. My mouth was numb and stuffed full of bloody gauze. I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t really talk when he came up from behind me on the bus to try and chat me up. At first, I thought it was some cruel joke – like a dare from his friends or something. I tried to get him to leave by telling him, “UK OO”, which was the best I could do with my stuffed mouth. He laughed at my agitation and continued to be very persistent – I noticed there was something pathetically genuine in his eyes.

He finally wore me down and I said, “O-A! I ill agee oo go ow ish oo ish oo omise oo eave e a-own eyet ow!” (Translation: OK! I will agree to go out with you if you promise to leave me alone right now!) I guess he understood and was pretty proud of himself. I don’t know why – I wasn’t exactly first prize that day.

Danny was on the local hockey team that was hosting the dance to which he invited me to go as his date. Obviously, my mouth had recovered by that night, and I was feeling a bit better about myself. Everything was pretty much within walking distance in our town, so he called ahead of time to let me know he was on his way to get me and we would walk to the arena from there. Of course, all my siblings jeered and snickered when he called – as I didn’t often get calls from boys. They were so annoying!

The dance was really fun and for the most part, we had a great time together. He was definitely a goof, but innocently charming in a sweet and bumbling kind-of-way. The only weird part was that his parents were there, chaperoning the dance. His father was nice enough, but his mother looked me up and down with a disapproving frown which only got worse when she spoke, “I can see you mustn’t be Italian. Are you Catholic?” To which my answer was, “No.”

Danny piped in to attempt to defend me. “MA! Seriously?!” And his father added his stern two cents as well, “For God’s sake, Maria!” Well, it didn’t take me long to understand the family dynamic that he had to deal with, but I couldn’t exactly criticize.

When we walked back to my place, I suggested that we part ways before we arrived, but he insisted on coming in. I wasn’t exactly proud of my family, so I hesitated, but he was already half way through the door. There was my mother, three sheets to the wind and on the phone; she seemed upset and completely disregarded the fact that I had just brought home a strange guy.

“Oh, I’m glad your home honey! Someone’s gotta go to the pub and get yer father – he’s gone and got himself passed out again! Your brothers are both out though! If no one goes to get’im, they’re gonna call the cops and throw’im into the drunk tank for the night!” She finally paused her intoxicated rant and focused on Danny and then continued, “Saaaaaay, you look like a big, strapping fella! You wouldn’t mind poppin’ over to the pub to help us out, would’ya?”

OH MY GOD! ARE YOU FOR REAL? I wanted to curl up into a ball and die in a corner somewhere – anywhere but there. My first date with this guy and he is going to go bring home my alcoholic father who’s just been kicked out of the local pub. He quickly replied with a huge smile on his face, “SURE!” Apparently any drama that was different from his own repressive home life was extremely amusing. Well, always glad to entertain!

One other thing I need to mention was that Danny actually worked part-time at this pub as a bouncer, which was another reason he had no issues completing this task. On the way to the pub he asked me, “What’s your dad’s name anyway?” I replied: “Donald” He kind of looked around for awhile in silence, as if the act of thinking made his brain hurt and then his eyes widened, “DONNIE? YOUR DAD IS DONNIE SMITH?! He’s our favourite dr....” He stopped mid-word.

“No, it’s OK. You can say it... he’s a drunk! THE TOWN DRUNK – yep, that’s my daddy dearest!” Once again, he thought the entire situation was hysterical, whereas I wanted to cease to exist. Over the years I had gotten use to the fact that both my parents were drunks, but at that moment I realized that it wasn’t normal and I was deeply ashamed.

I don’t remember much about actually collecting my father, but I remember the long walk home. Talk about a train wreck ending to a first date! I walked beside Danny in mortified silence as he carried my passed out father like a baby (he was a small man at 5’3” and easily weighed less than 150 pounds). I just wanted that night to be over. I wasn’t even religious, but I remember even praying on that walk home for something to put me out of my misery. I guess I worried too much, because not only was Danny amused by the entire situation, he actually called back the next day for a second date. I don’t know how we were going to top that one!