My favorite color is blue. My favorite food is pizza. Do you like me yet?


No?


More?


My parents divorced me when I was very young. No, that’s negative….did I say “divorce me”? Well. Wow. Freud slipped right in there, didn’t he? Well, you’re starting to get to know me.


Hey, how many minutes do we have again?


I like films, TV, anything based on reality. That’s not true. I have fantasies. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a fried egg, sunny side up, and be the yolk as the edge of a crust of toasted bread broke me open and all my yellow would flood and run everywhere. Always wondered that. Or maybe it’s all sexual. Who knows! Mysteries of the human—sorry?


Time’s awasting.


Maybe you want to know this stuff about me. Dior. Picasso, the European car not the painter. Saab. Let me say that again so there is no mistaking. Saaaaaab…. Sensuous, huh? Vogue. Vanity Fair. The New Yorker, optional. Silk. Silk. Silk. I cannot emphasize that enough. “Houston, we have a problem.” That still works for me. Shakespeare, the comedies, if I have to. Teen comedies, no. Slapstick, I’m a girl, so I don’t get all of it. Piercing, tattoos, goes without saying, not on my body. Terrorism. What is this big deal about terrorism? Did none of those people have parents when they were growing up? Oooh, terrorism. So scared!


Is this helping any? How about family stuff—


My father has a mustache, my mother dyes her hair red. I had an aunt who was a drunk and an uncle who I think tried to touch me improperly when I was young but I have blocked it all out, almost. Sorry, again, too negative.


I’ve never been to Bermuda but I’d like to go to Spain. Yes, the Bermuda Islands. No, not the shorts. You must think I’m crazy. I’m looking for love. I don’t have any pets. I think about politics but don’t get involved—what? Pets? Allergies. Ah-choo. Their fur. Or saliva. I need to take some medical tests on that.


Snow. Surf. Turf. Like it all.


God, where’s the time gone!


My grandparents are dead.


What more did you want to know?


Food, pizza. Color, blue.


I was toilet trained at an early age so I’m good that way. Same with tying my shoe laces. A snap.


Also, I may be allergic to dust or I don’t clean my place enough. One or the other. Love drives in the desert. Hate it when I’m in an airplane and hit an air pocket and everything goes zoom and people scream and things go flying and my stomach comes up. What? You too! Gosh. We have so much in common!


I’ve had maybe fifteen boyfriends. Sean, Bob, Frank, Tony—oh you don’t want those details.


I have a driver’s license, own a bicycle and went go-carting once. I follow my instincts. I’m very emotional, but don’t believe in Astrological signs. I mean, please, the Big Boom happens and the Milky Way comes out so neat that my future is foretold up there? I wish. If you look up at the stars tonight and see my fate, please, give me a shout. I’d really like to know. What? The Big Boom was the Big Bang? Big difference. I’m sure the universe wants us to get that terminology right.


Time!


I’m taking cooking lessons. Drugs—just say no.


Do you sort of like me yet?


Foods. Not too processed. Love. Not too processed. This—what?


No! No! My time is not up. We still have a chance of making this work. This is my life! It’s not ending. It feels like it’s just at the start.


Time?


Time.


Time!


But what about our love then?