I have recently discovered the wonderful Aussa Lorens, and one of her recent posts challenges her readers to pick out the lie from the truth. She presents five autobiographical statements that are absolutely true and one that is pure Oscar Meyer.
I said that I thought that was a marvelous idea, darling, but I pride myself in being such an enourmous enigma, that I think that I should do the reverse.
And so, darlings, I present to you six small stories, five of which are outlandish enough that you could believe that they were about little old me, but only one of which is 100% certified gospel truth.
Really, darlings, where are you ever going to get an opportunity like this — your favourite dilettante is going to come clean — you’re just going to have to decide which is truth, and which is fiction.
1. Helena Hann-Basquiat and the Cast of Kick Ass
Once, at an after party for the movie Kick Ass, which was filmed in Hamilton, Ontario, and for which the talent agency I work for provided background actors, I got a wee bit tipsy, and may have made out just a little bit with Nicholas Cage, and definitely threw up on Aaron Johnson.
2. The Missing Hann-Basquiat Sibling
I have a brother that I never talk about — he’s in prison in Indiana on multiple charges, including home invasion, assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. Basically, he broke into someone’s house to rob them, discovered they were home, and attacked them, stabbing one of them so badly that he nearly died. When he was arrested, he used the Rob Ford defense that he was really high at the time.
3. My Second Time on the Stripper’s Pole
One Hallowe’en, really not that long ago, me and all of my friends decided to go out for Hallowe’en as strippers. There were seven of us, three girls and four men, and god bless ’em, they shaved their legs and everything. We decided to go to the strip club (of course), and somewhere along the way, I lost my keys — house keys, car keys, everything. At the end of the night, my friends took off (dirtbags) leaving me all alone to search for my keys, which I never did find. I slept in my car that night (thank god it was unlocked) but then the next day, as I was trying to flag down a car for help, a cop car pulled up behind that car (who then took off) and the cops picked me up for suspected solicitation. At the end of the day, everything was cleared up, but let me just say that if you are suspected of prostitution, they treat you that way until you can prove otherwise.
4. Helena Hann-Basquiat and the Tattoo of Parental Perturbation
My parents, if you’ve read my sordid tale, are complete couche-tards (again, what are you doing here if you don’t know what a couche-tard is?) and when I was just seventeen (you know what I mean) I got into a giant fight with my father, who was giving me a hard time about the way I was dressed, and he had gone so far as to call me a whore. Well, I went right out and got me a tattoo right above my ass (where one would normally get what is so charmingly referred to as a “tramp stamp”) that reads OVER TEN BILLION SERVED in a very pretty script. Not long after my father saw it, I moved away to Halesowen, England to follow some boy I’d become enamoured with. (You can read all about that here)
5. Helena Hann-Basquiat’s Brush with Fame
As some of you may know, I was briefly the lead singer for Quixotic Exotica, a now defunct band based in the San Francisco Bay area, and one time after a show at Gilman in Berkeley, a quiet, suprisingly clean cut looking guy came up to me with a greyhound (vodka and grapefruit juice, darlings, or as I called it in those days, breakfast, lunch and dinner) in hand. Normally I wouldn’t accept a drink from a stranger, but the guy looked familiar, and his smile was unnervingly disarming. He said he’d asked the bartender what my drink was, and when I looked over at the bar, Clint (yes, I was on a first name basis with the bartender, what of it?) was staring at me with a big smile on his face like he knew something I didn’t. Which he apparently did, because the guy turned out to be Billie Joe Armstrong from Green Day. He’d been home visiting his folks and popped in to hear us play (Green Day used to play there) and just wanted to compliment me on my singing. Had I known he was in the audience, I might have suggested we didn’t do our mock cover of Brainstew, but apparently, he liked it.
6. The Countess is Tyler Durden
The Countess Penelope of Arcadia does not exist. She’s just me, darlings. She’s the me that I want to be but cannot bring myself to be. She says what I want to say, breaks all the rules that I want to break, and is my solace in the lonely nights all by my friendless self. Much like Brad Pitt‘s character in Fight Club (and with all the Fight Club references, darlings, you really should have seen this) Penny is not really there — she’s just the coinage of my brain — perhaps the result of a blob of mustard, a bit a bad beef, or an undercooked potato.
And there you have it, darlings! The greatest mindfucks I could possibly think up. Which of these are bullshit, and which one (and ONLY one, darlings) is true. Find out over the next week as I expand, expound, and otherwise explain my stories.
Let the MU HA HAs begin.
*** UPDATED: Lie #1 is revealed!