It’s important to share your dreams, because sometimes they have Deborah Harry in them…
So I was in an auditorium where they were showing a documentary on the HBO show ‘Girls’. In attendance was a real life rock star who will remain nameless, mainly because I can’t remember for the life of me who he really was. I kept calling him things like “David Coverdale” and “Van Hagar” just to piss him off, but I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.)
He was making a bit of a spectacle of himself, whipping his shirt off and doing rock star poses while the film was unfolding, which to be fair, the audience seemed to be eating up.
At any rate, things really took off when a woman went to the ticket counter to complain very loudly about the unauthorized use of the song “Rapture”, and because of my knowledge of copyright law I was able to determine that it was none other than Deborah Harry, of the band Blondie, still looking good at my subconscious level.
Her angry efforts result in the movie getting turned off, which prompts a negative response from the crowd. Harry sits next to the male rock star, and he somehow uses rock and roll privilege to get the surrounding rows cleared, including myself. We all move to the back of the room, which is no longer a theater but a small classroom.
In what in real life is an uncharacteristic move on my part, I start heckling the two rock stars, yelling things that were probably witty in the context of being said in a dream. Before long, whatever is left of the dwindling audience has joined in, booing and heckling in unison.
Debbie Harry and Male Rock Star respond by starting to make out and removing one anothers clothes.
The audience starts woo-ing like it’s a classic episode of ‘Married With Children’.
He removes Harry’s panties, bends her over the table, and starts whipping her ass with a chair.
And at this point, I have had enough.
Deeming this wholly inappropriate for what is now a school setting, I jump between the two, wrestle the chair from Male Rock Star and grab them both by the ears, towards the Principals office.
During this trip, Male Rock Star indulges his entitled, spiteful, whiny, posturing side, complaining all the way. It is at this point that I start calling him by the names of assorted other rock stars (including Iggy Pop, because occasionally I would accidentally let a good one through.)
For her part, Debbie Harry seemed to immediately come to her sense, recognizing her attempted tryst in a classroom with a washed up rock icon not as cool rebel behavior, but as a very specific kind of rock bottom. In an attempt to build back up her spirit, I start listing the many, many people who would have been a better choice to hook up than him, included but not limited to:
-Literally anyone
-A life-size marble statue of the Marlboro Man
-James Woods in ‘Videodrome’
And just as we reached the principals’ office, I woke up, my good deed for the day having been done…
Pryorball. 