IT HAPPENED TO MOI !!!

I GOT GRIFTED!

And it was soooo worth it!

For the two of you I haven't already told this to, allow me to elaborate, Sophia Petrillo style.

Picture it: Brooklyn. 2007. Last night. (6:30 PM, actually.)

It's colder than a witch's teat and I'm stumbling home with a half-dead orchid bigger than my head, wrapped in shredded paper bags that I found at the office. I received said orchid yesterday when the plant people came to remove it from my office after replacing it with a new and better orchid. (Each orchid costing a mere $185, by the way.) After fighting tooth and nail with my co-workers for the plant (actual story: passive aggressively wrote my name all over it before any one else could get to it), I slowly but surely make my way home with my delicate treasure.

So, I'm walking up to my door, and I hear a high pitched "Haaaaaaaaaay!", not unlike the "haaaays" often repeated in that joke about what a gay horse would eat. All of a sudden, I am moderately overwhelmed by the appearance of a "fabulous" little man in a fur cape (yes, cape) with a flashy camera the size of a toaster around his neck. He immediately grasped my arm (while I instinctively lunged backward) and says, "THANK GAWD for a friendly face! Am I in a mess of trouble or waaaaaaaht? It's so cold! I love your hair! I love your pin! What is with this neigh-bor-hood?!?"

(Now, I must mention that I live in kind of a "tough" area. Sadly, you'll be hard pressed to find any designer soap stores, Baby Gaps or gourmet gummy bear vendors in close proximity. We rough it out here. It's all rusty crack spoons and "keepin' it reeeeeal!" By flagrantly showcasing a camera like his in my 'hood, this guy was just asking to get his neck snapped.)

Needless to say, I usually ignore everyone in my neighborhood, but this little beaver-caped gnome piqued my interest. After coming to the conclusion that he wasn't going to razor me in the face, I honored his request that we go inside to talk about his "situation" (ed: yeeeeeah.), whereupon we went into the vestibule of my building. (With me insisting quietly the entire time that we were going "NO FURTHER, you hear me? NO FURTHER!") He proceeded to he to tell me his sob story about not being from around here, living in an ocean front villa in New Jersey with "all the queens you'd ever want to meet!" and leaving all of his earthly belongings in a gypsy cab. Also, can he have $15 to get home to said villa?

At this point, I think he could see my skepticism and started laying it on real thick. All of a sudden he was here for fashion week, he was friends with Richie Rich





and Amanda Lepore



and that he had access to the Heatherette show room. Did I mention his name was "Randuel"?

Randuel: What do you want? Do you want shoes! I'll get you shoes! You want Manolo Blahniks? You want gloves?!? (Mumbles to himself about how cold it is.) I KNOW! Alligator skin gloves! Oh my gawd, you will be so FASHION! But what do I know, I'm just the biggest queen, up shit creek, needing $15! (Whimpering at this point) What am I going to do without my Blackberry?!?

(Might I add, Randuel is laying across my shit nasty front steps at this point, in a state of melancholy that dirt couldn't even affect.)

Me: (Mumbling incoherently about how I need to go inside.)

Randuel, getting desperate and shrill: Here, hold my camera for ransom! (Holds it out, covering his glitter-masked eyes like he's going to cry.) You want my coat? You can have this coat!

Me, slightly interested: You mean your cape?...What kind of fur is that, by the way?

Randuel, seeming slightly suspicious that I might actually take his coat: It's beaver -- and it's DELICIOUS! (Pets the coat.) All I need is the $15, honey.

Here is the exhaustive list of everything Randuel promised me:

a. a seat at fashion week, + 2 standing positions
b. snake skin gloves
c. manolo blahniks
d. his beaver cape
e. camera
f. a blackberry
g. access to a secret 411 code for all the phone numbers I could ever wish to have (ed: waaaht?)

Basically, anything he could think of to get me to give him this money.

When I finally broke down and gave him the money (Yeah, what would you do in this situation?), he made me write out an extensive IOU and swore that he'd "get me back!" and that I'd saved his life.

Needless to say, he hasn't called me yet and my hands are cold and clammy, awaiting those alligator gloves!

SEE YOU AT FASHION WEEK!

True story.

P.S. The orchid's dead, my hands are still cold and he hasn't called. GOD DAMMIT.