Tomorrow is Larry David’s birthday. I don’t care how old he is. I just love him.
I was invited to the NYC Friar Club for a roast – I think it was for Soupy Sales – he was there in a wheel chair with his nurse. So were Stiller and Meara, the press, many of the old-time Jewish Alps comedians and a room full of more notable people. I had a ball!
I quickly noticed there were virtually no women there, and if they were they were in orthopedic shoes with canes and wigs and yellow teeth. With odds like those every man with a pulse wanted to talk to my friend. I on the other hand was fit and in my prime. I was in my uniform of tight jeans, high heels, low-cut top and push up bra with my long blond hair blown perfectly straight. I was invited back the next week by the Treasurer who took a shining to me. He wasn’t a comedian or an actor, just a music executive with lots of stories about Tommy Motola . I accepted without hesitation. I loved the club. I would live there if I could.
I met the Treasurer upstairs, where he was waiting for me, at one of the smaller bars. The Treasurer was seater with fellow friars but these guys were old school – senior citizen who could make you pee in your pants not the other way around. We had a drink while they told hysterical stories about their careers. I was deep in a story when I heard someone behind me say,
“Hey, Treasurer. How’s your wife?”
I could feel the Treasurer’s hand on the small of my back but I didn’t care. I listened with rapt attention to the two old comedians do their bit. I loved their stories and could have listened forever. Suddenly, it occurred to me that my date was married and I quickly realized that I was having so much fun that I couldn’t have cared less. I had no interest in him. And then I thought about that voice who delivered those words and their timing. I knew that all too familiar voice. I looked over. It was Larry David and he was gone in a flash heading out of the room and down the elevator.
I could have run out of the room. I could have chased him but I didn’t. Instead I continued listening to the stories of some of the greatest comedians way before Larry David’s time.
I knew that I missed my shot at meeting one of my all time favorite comedians. Chances are this would be my one and only time. Oh, well…
Happy Birthday, Larry, you old COCK BLOCKER. I love you. Call me when you can.