That's the Way Love Goes.....

It's the same old story: They bulid you up, from child star to pop icon.

You sleep in an oxygen chamber, buy a chimpanzee named Bubbles, and molest a few small children and they turn their backs on you.

You die abruptly from an apparent oxycontin overdose and everyone loves you again, apparently forgetting the last fifteen years they spent tearing you down.

Typical.

When I reference Margot Kidder, you stare blankly....Why?

Known for her relatable performances as Lois Lane in the first four "Superman" movies and as the Long Island mother terrorized by a demonic pig named Jody in "The Amityville Horror," Margot Kidder spent much of the Seventies and Early-80's as one of Hollywood's most sought after starlets.

Her behavior sometimes seemed to border on self-sabatoge. Outspoken support of Jane Fonda and feminism were viewed as radical for the time. She appeared to be in inebriated for much of her hosting duties during a 1980 "Saturday Night Live." For a 1979 People Magazine cover story, Margot said this about the upcoming release of "The Amityville Horror," which was being marketed as a true story: "I suppose I believe in the possibility of many things, but I think pigs snorting in windows is taking it a bit far." (http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20074603,00.html)

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During the mid-90's, Margot Kidder was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after being discovered -- filthy and disoriented -- under some lawn furniture in the backyard of San Fernando Valley, CA couple. Prior to a brief disapperance, reports indicate Margot shaved her head and got into a fight with an ATM -- very Britney.

A period of emotional and PR rehabilitation soon followed. Margot publicly condemed her subsequent A&E Biography as sensational and largely untrue. Almost spitefully, the producers responded by transfering her episode to the retail market for sale in the "Biography" VHS/DVD collection.

In recent years, Margot Kidder has been semi-present thanks to a re-occurring part in TV's "Brothers & Sisters" and a role in the upcoming remake of "Halloween II." And of course, her sizable movie catalogue, including "The Reincarnation of Peter Proud", "The Great Waldo Pepper", "The Glitter Dome", "Trenchcoat", "Sone Kind of Hero" and "Little Treasure", among others are often replayed on late night cable.

Business Travel: A Random Collection of Hideous Events

April - June edition

5. The waterpark catered the event.

4. She woke up covered in bugs and just changed rooms; I would have slept in the car.

3. Excuse me sir, but you just spilled coffee on my table drape.

2. There's a bead convention at my hotel. The whole fourth floor is nothing but workshops.

1. Wow, Arkansas. All of them?

It was Col. Mustard. In the Conservatory. With a bag of beads (also known as "Why Wouldn't That Happen: Vol 1)

First Three Days of June edition:



A Bead Convention at my hotel? A convention for people who sell beads -- both wholesale and just one bead at a time. A convention for those who love to assemble beads in different configurations. There are workshops here. Workshops on how to better assemble your beads. Workshops on how to more efficiently purchase and distribute your beads to the bead community. You know, A Bead Convention.



There are people -- some of them probably not half bad -- who are living on the streets, peeing in styrofoam cups, and wandering around dirty and broken hoping for a better day. Believing that there is a chance for something better. Well, I've got news for them. And for anyone else who might ask: there is no hope for you. You live in a world of Bead Conventions. Where, against all odds in a flailing economy -- while California threatens to power down and sink into the sea, while General Motors fights to drive another day-- the Bead Sellers of America are seemingly unincumbered and thriving. Frolicing around, covered in beads and smug. So smug.



In elevators, common areas or near the gym (they frequent the latter only for the complimentary water jug) we are cordial to each other. But they sense I am not one of them. They are repugnant to me and they know it. I watch in disdain as they whore around, beads jangling. So pleased with themselves. And deservedly so: their industry achieved a level of success necessitating a well-attended national convention. A Bead Convention. A convention of bead enthusiasts -- several of them bearing a striking resemblance to the actress who played Mrs. Peacock in "Clue: The Movie." Sellers of Beads. Assemblers of Beads. The thriving Bead Community. United. Here. MEETING ABOUT BEADS. Clearly, it is still difficult for me to process these recent events.


A part of me has ceased to exist. Maybe twenty years from now I will see an errant bead rolling across a parking lot and have a flashback to the boy I used to be. But until then, I will move forward the bitter, sickened, hostile person that I have become today. Today optimism and empathy were obliterated by a powerful blow to the back of the head -- by a dress sock, chock full of fucking beads. At a Bead Convention.