Sidewalk Superheroes

It’s 12:03 AM, so I’m technically writing about yesterday. But I’m a night owl, and I don’t consider the next day to have started until the sun’s coming up, so I’m going to be referring to the events of February 2nd as “today.” Just so we’re clear, because I am weird. In case you hadn’t noticed that a woman blogging as Batgirl and Padmé Amidala working on Hollywood Boulevard was less than normal.

Anyway, Wonder Cat and I decided sort of at the last minute on Sunday evening to work the next morning. I was actually hoping that I could have worked sometime on Sunday, though I knew it was going to suck because everyone would be watching the StuporBowl (TM me), but I don’t go out there alone, so there’s that. We get to Hollywood & Highland at around 10:30, and as we’re crossing Hollywood Boulevard on Highland, we notice that half the street is closed. Something’s going on, we just don’t know what.
“Ooh, maybe it’ll help us,” Wonder Cat hopes.
“We need it!”
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It’s still slooooooow going on the boulevard, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. We went to the Joker’s birthday party last night, and while I only had one weak mojito, I hate rum and I’m still burping it up. It’s disgusting. I blame it for my mind being stupid today, even though I did have quite a lot of Jack Daniel’s last night. At least seven shots? Quite a lot. And rum cake. Anyway, you already know that after I drink I’m stupid for a day, and my memory’s not so great, so I’ll try to remember any good bits that may have happened.

I don’t think I worked Friday. Did I? My dad had surgery for his cancer on Wednesday so I spent a couple of days hanging out with him, which sort of threw me off time-wise. We spent a lot of time watching movies on cable and talked about going to China, I remember that. Oh wait, we did work Friday. Today’s Sunday. Sorry. To make up for the swiss cheese memory, here’s the best picture ever:

the DC universe

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We didn’t work very long today, so there’s not too much to report. Our unseasonable heat wave in January is coming to a close (rain on the way!), and even though today was a holiday and everyone’s buzzed for Obama’s inauguration tomorrow, there just wasn’t a lot of business going around. Sniping and slack-jawed staring when we explained how things work, but not a lot of shots. Still, we got good tips.

It’s the fake tits. Catwoman and I are slender ladies naturally, which means we’re also not stacked naturally. But though we have everything else going for us, we usually don’t do super well at tips, and what every guy working the boulevard tells us is that we need to work the boobs. The plain Janes with crap costumes do well because they flash their tits. So we did a little experiment, accentuated our chesticular area, and the tips went up per picture. Good to know . . .

Also, our sugar daddy from yesterday, the one who wanted a giant photo with every character and would pay at least $5 per person, never showed today. Damn. Well, at least I got a fiver from him yesterday.

Also, some pseudo-drama for your entertainment. Besides Confessions of a Superhero, a newer documentary called The Reinactors is due to come out on DVD soon, and the film crew has been trying to interview some of the characters from the film for some DVD extras. The characters, however, are asking for more money. They were burned pretty badly with Confessions (and are currently in a lawsuit over it, from what I’ve heard) and aren’t making the same mistakes twice. Also, some of them are SAG and union, and aren’t there rules to be followed? Eh, anyway, the film crew came around casually carrying a camera, and asked Superman how he was doing. Superman said, “Fine, but if you want me to talk to you, I’m going to need more money.” They kept walking. Heh. I suggested to Wonder Cat that the filmmakers just collect footage of all the characters holding out for more money, and make a montage of it for their stupid DVD. From what I’ve heard, the Reinactors made the film festival rounds, much like Confessions, but it was so bad no one picked it up, so the filmmakers are pushing the DVD to try and recoup their losses. I’d watch out of curiosity, but it just seems like they’re rehashing Confessions to me. I don’t know.

Also, we were talking with Jerri Blank today, and some interesting news came out. Well, we actually just asked her to keep an eye out for Superman while we ran to eat a candy apple (parking validation, I swear), and she asked, very concerned, if he was trying to seduce us.
“He does that, you know,” she said, looking worried. “He tries that with all the young girls out here. He’s very smooth that way.”
“Eh, that’s not going to be a problem,” Wonder Cat said bluntly.
“Well, he’s married, you know.”
“Oh, we know that,” I said.
“Well good, he didn’t tell me for years. I had to make myself fall out of love with him when I found out about her. I really loved him. I thought I’d marry him.” She then went on to talk about their love affair, and how quickly he can get out of his costume. It was very disturbing, like hearing about relatives having sex. Not quite as bad as your parents talking about screwing each other, but definitely aunt and uncle level of weird.

I sometimes feel that the one small square block of Hollywood is a 24-hour crazy zone. Even when we’re around every day, we still miss things and don’t know the whole story. It’s a little irritating, as if your favourite soap opera ran sixteen times a day and you can just never keep up. But it’s life, so I can’t even TiVo it. Hah, like I even have TiVo. Anyway, I’ll try to remember everything that’s happened today, but I always end up forgetting something. Before I get going, though, here’s some gratuitous eye candy for ya:

sweets for the sweet

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