Our story resumes at the gallery of Fred Collard on the lovely island of Nantucket. Larry, Shannie and I had just disembarked from the Ford Escape SPORT and began our trek down Main Street towards Fred's gallery.
If you have a chance to make it to his gallery check it out. It's beautiful. Fred came bounding down the stairs and the first thing I noticed about this guy was his voice. He had one of those great voices that was tailor made for radio. Like you could just close your eyes and hear him announcing the next song on the Top 40 Count Down or giving you the traffic.
I'm introduced to Fred and he ushers us out to the little patio area. There is guy at the grill who is "the chef" for the night and three other people sitting on chairs. One of the guys is a tall hippy-ish looking dude who is trying to keep the candles lit by putting plastic cups around them to "contain the flame". Uh-huh. I introduce myself to the other people: one is a girl with an accent who, when I say, "Hi. I'm Lisa," she just shook her head and goes, "Dacha."
Alrighty. Is that like another language for "Hello"? I frankly couldn't care less.
I introduce myself to the other guy who looks like typical Nantucket: cut off shorts, a Lacoste Polo shirt, Top Siders without socks and some sort of hat with a nautical symbol on it. They're nice enough folks, but I need a drink. Fred fixes all three of of Cape Codders. Well, actually it was pretty much four fifths Vodka and a splash of Cranberry juice with a lime thrown in for good measure. But I really didn't care.
See here's the thing that I didn't tell you guys: I'm kind of famous on the island. Ok well not like "give me your autograph" famous, but Larry and Shannie talk me up sooo much there. And Larry kind of knows everyone. She's like, kind of a big deal. Plus Larry and Shannie's nickname for me is Weezie and it's what they call me on a regular basis. (And no Kupas you're not allowed to call me it). So the name is catching on with the patio crowd.
Yes. I am famous. But I digress.
So we're standing around on the patio, nibbling on scallops and yellow fin tuna. We're about ten feet from the water and you can see the moon reflecting in the glassy surface. It's kind of like I'm in The Great Gatsby or something. Anyway, I'm enjoying the scenery when up clips this tall skinny guy.
"HEEEEEEEY!!"
This is where I meet the famous Robert Wilson.
"Hey, it's the other funny fuck!!" I'm the other funny fuck, BTW.
Robert owns the Robert Wilson Gallery at 51 Main Street. He's loud and non-PC. But he is effing hilarious and if you're one of his "peeps" then he'll lay down in traffic for you.
It's kind of like witnessing a meeting at the G8 Summit when Robert and I finally lay eyes on each other. No one really knows if we're going to hit it off or if we'll like each other. But then he said to me, "Oh girl please! I've been terrorizing people on this fucking island for 25 YEARS!!!"
I had a strong indication that he and I would get along swimmingly.
The night progressed and got better as more people joined us. Yummy seasoned cucumbers topped with scallops continued to make the rounds. The girl who only said "Dacha" to me tried to make conversation with Larry and I. But she was so impressed with herself that Larry and I just kind of stopped talking to her while she was in mid-sentence and walked away.
As I was shooting the shit with the guy containing the candles, a guy who looked like Jeremy Piven walked in. It turns out that he was one of Larry's friends. For reasons that no longer matter, it was important that I met this guy and liked him.
Ok. So he's talking and in the middle of one of his sentences I said to him, "Do you watch Entourage?"
Jeremy Piven replied, "If you tell me I look like Jeremy Piven I will punch you."
I thought that the threat of physical violence was a wee bit harsh and unnecessary, but I chalked it up to him being completely hammered and not having his collar popped on his Lacoste baby blue polo.
"Yeah. You do look like him. Can you say some lines for me?"
"What?!"
"Just repeat after me..."
I then proceeded to have Jeremy Piven repeat one of my favorite scenes from Entourage: when Ari is in therapy with his wife and his "bat line" is ringing. The wife is all pissed and Ari goes on a tirade about how he has to answer it if his wife wants to be kept in the lifestyle that she is accustomed to.
It was brilliant. I think that was what won the patio crowd over.
So I'm there talking to Jeremy Piven about his Jamaican Baptist Church going (shit you not) when I look up and see a cute boy. Well then. Cute boy sits down and we begin talking about how we both have t-shirts with birds on them. And people always ask us what kind of bird it is and how we're just like, "Um...it's a picture. No, I don't know the species." Cute Boy finally introduces himself as Bobby (ja'dorable). He is unfortunately from Connecticut (the one state...the ONE state I just don't want boys, or anyone I meet, to be from!), but is on Nantucket for the summer and then going to Indiana. Or something. I wasn't really paying attention. Bobby was wearing an awesome pair of Yellow Submarine Chuck Taylor's. I was kind of hearting his style.
(sidebar: I really don't remember if I told him about my site or not. In any case, if you're reading this....HI BOBBY!!)
After going back and forth with Bobby, quoting lines from Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle and having a Journey sing-a-long. (who am I??!!?!), I bid farewell to Bobby. He took my number and goes, "It was nice to meet you Weezie."
*Insert cringey face here*
I do have to give a shout out to the lovely Michelle who I met. She works at Robert's gallery with Larry and is one of the nicest people. Plus she had on a beautiful necklace made with mussel shells that I couldn't stop staring at all night! At first I thought she was foreign but Larry just politely informed me that Michelle is just very quiet when she talks.
The rest of the night commenced at the bar called Slip 14, which, in my quasi-drunken state I kept calling Sum 41. My quasi-drunken state was elevated to muy-drunken state when I thought it a good idea for Larry, Jeremy Piven and myself to do shots of tequila. It's a good thing we left right after because I definitely saw myself inciting some sort of dance party in between the group of Ralph Lauren clad dudes and In The Pink girls.
I passed out in Larry's bed, dreaming of what awaited me on the lovely island of Nantucket the next morning.
If you guessed a large hangover then you win the prize behind door number 34.
Stay tuned tomorrow for Nantuckie Weekend Observations: Part 3!! Where I finally tell you about the WASPs and why it's never a good idea to take out your earrings in the middle of the ocean with big waves coming at you!
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