Andrew (Andy) Pagana

About 10 years ago I saw Clint Eastwood grocery shopping somewhere in Westwood I think. He looked like walking death. A skeleton with grey skin pushing an empty shopping cart and looking so pissed off that it was clear to me that the only reason he was still walking around was that the Grim Reaper was too afraid to go pick him up.

I asked him if he knew where the peanut butter was as if he were just any other shopper and he said “It’s around here somewhere” and left it at that. I kinda watched him for a bit as I am fascinated by people and I can be kind of a “people watcher” (or “creepy voyeur”  depending on what time of day it is and where I am) and then I left, without peanut butter (thanks for nothing, Clint)

So any time I saw him in the movies or on TV since I could never figure out why he looked so strong and… well, alive. The magic of the movies I guess. They made Bogart look tall and Travolta look straight so I guess they an do anything.

And then, as it so often happens in my life, I find myself the other night where I have no business being and ended up smack dab in the middle of a the Invictus Premiere and after party…

…where Clint and I meet again.

(Come back for more of this pointless story)

Posted by Andyfan: A phone conversation not so late one night. There was suddenly a bunch of noise on Andy’s end.

AndyFan: What was that?

Andy: I was walking by a Chinawoman, a black woman, and a Mexican woman racing remote controlled cars.

AndyFan: What? Really? That is exactly what it sounded like. The squeal of a remote controlled car and the squeal of a little Mexican and Chinese woman. I didn’t hear the black woman though.

Andy: Why is it you can say Frenchman but you can’t say Chinaman.

AndyFan: Why is it that you can’t say Chinaman?

Andy: People get upset?

AndyFan: Oh, I wasn’t sure if it was for another reason.

Andy: What do you mean? What other reason?

AndyFan: Well, the two aren’t the same, Chinaman and Frenchman. You wouldn’t say Chinaman, because you don’t say Franceman. But if you are talking about the Asian/Oriental pc issue, I think that is taking it too far. If you are man and you are from China, you are a Chinaman.

Andy: Right. You say china marker.

AndyFan: Well, in that case you should say China-everything.

Andy: Why, is that why they are called China Markers.

AndyFan: Oh, i don’t know, I was just going on another tangent.

Andy: But you say chinamarker, right?

AndyFan: Yeah…

Andy: Or do you call it a grease pencil?

AndyFan: What…

Andy: Or is that only if it is from Italy?

Posted by AndyFan: There are few things that Andy takes for granted in life. Very few. A bastion of self appreciation. A monument to patience and grace. A wonder of…Wait. Did I get that right? Not sure. Maybe it is the other way around. Really, does it matter? Andy does a lot for you people—what is the relevance of his taking things for granted or not. As far as he is concerned if you think he is taking things for granted he most certainly should be. Things, when plugged in, should work as they were intended. Reformatting should only be necessary for those things that were not purchased formatted. Otherwise why purchase them so? On, well on should turn things on, not require a reboot and possible deletion of a few files in order to play video chat tag with certain underlings who do not uphold their AndyPagana.com duties. What worked yesterday, well, should work today. Right now in fact. Not after several failed attempts at finding an online forum with a similar problem that I (read Andy) should not be having at this very moment. Right this very minute now.

That said, there is one thing that Andy expects from the world at every given moment. It is a given in his world. Not even a must. Just an is. All chairs are made to lean back. To the floor in fact. Further if possible. Straight backed wooden chairs. They should lean back. Upright stools with no back at all, back they should lean as well. Sofa backs that have no business leaning, should be found leaning. As far and wide as humanly possible. Lazy Boys that already lean, should lean even farther when Andy nears. So far back that the image of Andy in one borders on the perverse and can not be described here as it may offend his Mother. And we don’t want to offend Mother. She is the only person who can get him to sit up straight. Andy hates that.

Posted by AndyFan: Yes, mind you, we have added another. Not just any kind of tantrum, a TAndytrum. It borders on the obscene. Actually it doesn’t border on it, it lives right smack dab in the middle of it. Like a small Mexican village where drinking the water will just make everything not quite right for weeks on end; where you are not sure if you are the resident or the alien, but you know you shouldn’t stay either way; where the mood is always mellow on the verge of a cataclysmic apocalypse; where you are certain the roads are paved but there is so much dust lying on the ground that you dare not even breath for fear of being choked; where the women all have the look of the virginal exotic local, only to realize that this bar is the crossroads of the west and you just drank the worm at the bottom of the bottle only to wake up with a hangover, a vague understanding of geographic tongue and no one to tell you if you should show your face at work the next day.

You think that maybe I would have the energy to write more than I am, but I don’t. I hate being sick.

What’s with this Tiger Woods controversy with his accident? He wasn’t drinking or doing drugs, so why do we give a shit? WTF??? Somebody please tell me what the fascination is. He’s not even hurt.

I like truth and honesty, even if one has to be sneaky and underhanded to get to it.

I really hate them with all my heart. They are evil, vicious little things.

 

Andy and Vogel (Michael Byrne)

An interview (I think our first here at andypagana.com).

I had no tape recorder so here is approximately what transpired. (There is some swearing. Sorry) We spent about forty minutes together sitting in a corner of a hotel lobby, near that building from ‘Die Hard’. Here are the highlights. The rest will be printed in my autobiography when I get to it…

Andy: Michael, I am a huge fan of yours, too! You are one of my most favorite badguys. Do you know Peter O’Toole?

Michael: I was in Rome once. Years ago. I had done  some work with him before. I had a phone call. The voice on the other end of the phone said “Michael, have you read the bloody play yet?” “Who is this?” I said. “It’s Peter Peter Fucking O’Toole, you cunt”

Andy: What the fuck happened with Indy 4? 

Michael: (Censored)

Andy: Do you remember me? I saw Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade 8 times in the theatre.

Michael: It doesn’t work that way. You can see me but I can’t see you.

Andy: Pff. Did it hurt when you went off the cliff on the tank?

Michael: No. That was a special effect.

Andy: So… it didn’t hurt? It looked like it hurt.

Michael: It didn’t.

Andy: And I notice that you hold onto the turret even after you have crashed. How did you do that?

Michael: It wasn’t me. It was a miniature of me.

Andy: Wow. Well, it looked like it hurt. Did you have on knee pads or something?

Michael: I wasn’t really there.

Andy: Did Harrison Ford get mad when you punched him and then shoved his face on the tank’s tread? 

Michael: It was acting.

Andy: Are you sure? Because he looked mad.

Michael: I’m sure.

Andy: When Indy was hanging from the tank gun why didn’t you just shoot him? Why hit him with a shovel?

Michael: I did what I was told to do.

Andy: Pfff. Nazis. Always the same excuse. Well, I don’t know how you survived the fall but it was a great stunt. How did you not hit your head on the camera as you fell towards it, screaming? 

Michael: (sigh) I got lucky I suppose.

Andy: You want a cup of coffee?

Michael: No, I’m drinking wine, thank you. I shouldn’t be drinking this. I’m tired. I just got off the plane. I hate flying. 

Andy: Me too. I drove across the country 10 times.

Michael: You guys use planes here like we use cars.

Andy: ‘We’ meaning Nazi’s looking for the Holy Grail?

Michael: The biritsh.

Andy: Were you born there?

Michael: No. Scotland. (or did he say Ireland? Damn it!)

pause

Michael: Who let you in here?

Andy: Schwartzy did. That little guy over there. He saw you and told me you were here and I knew you would want to meet me. Lets take a picture. (Calls out) Schwartzy!!!

(Old fashioned flashbulb pops)

Andy: It was a pleasure to meet me. Thanks so much, Michael. How do you say goodbye in Germany, again? (I wanted to tell him here he had the most amazing blue eyes but I lost my courage.)

Posted by AndyFan: Trying was the operative word here. Apparently I am very much so. And on most days.