“Vito Stars in a Music Video” #63

Posted on September 14, 2011


I would do anything to live back in New York City in September.   My favorite city shines in this beautiful month, where the sunlight hints at an autumnal gold and the mood of change starts to trickle in… 

As opposed to the mood of intestinal gas left over by my father as he lets it rip after a Yoohoo chocolate milk gone awry in his stomach.  Or the chin hairs left behind by my mother who never sits down without her tweezers in hand to attack chronic chin rubble.

When the imaginary hot guys and legendary fans ask me, “How did someone so hot and sexy as you come away from this?” I simply claim what I always have since childhood – that I was adopted.  You would think that my parents would be offended by this, but my father started it.  It was always his joke when people met us – he would act like he was too cool for me and say, “We found her on the doorstep and felt bad for her, so we took her in.”

I found that believing that made me feel better about them as my parents.  I could believe the lie that I came from far, far away…from people way more normal than this.

Unemployed and in ownership of renter-averse Pit Bull, I have found myself at my parents’ house for far longer than I can bear.  My latest creative sessions at Starbucks have not been dedicated to my blog entries, but rather, brainstorming ways to get out…and back to the city I love and belong to.

That’s when brilliance hit me.  I would pimp Vito out for hire.  Dog actor.  Cameo appearances.  Thug stand-in.  Overall celebrity-for-hire.

A rapper named Gay-Z was shooting a video on Monday, and Vito got the job as tough Pit Bull hanging out with some mean-looking thugs in the back of an Escalade.  I put him in his street attire (camouflage sweatshirt and thick gold chains) and marveled like a proud mom, practically in tears, when I saw Vito looking out the window with the cameras rolling.

It’s unfortunate that things went awry when Vito jumped out of the window and over to the Chihuahua in Gay-Z’s bicycle basket.  He was licking the Chihuahua, as if trying to get to know her better, but the owner was screaming bloody murder.  I wanted to explain that Vito was only licking her like one of his chew toys before he gets ready to tear it apart, but I felt it inappropriate at the time.

My parents, parked in the background, called me over.  (How else was I supposed to get Vito into the city?  They don’t let me take the car.   I, of course, had to offer them a percentage of Vito’s day rate).

My Dad said, “I’ve asked you this before, and I’ll ask you again.  Why don’t you return your dog for your money back?  We’re here in the city.”

Me: “Are you fucking serious?!”

My Mom: “Don’t curse, Myra.  You’ll get your father upset.”

My Dad: “I’m only asking.  You can say No nicely.”

Me: “We’re in the middle of a shoot.  He’s a star.  He’s making money.  How can you say that?”

My Dad: “Okay, cool your jets.”

Me: “Can you stay in the car til this is over?”

My Dad: “Let me ask you something else.  Why is the singer wearing gold shorts?”

Me: “Because he’s a gay rapper.”

My Dad: “Oh, I see.  Is he Puerto Rican or black?”

Me: “He’s both, Dad.”

My Dad: “Why is he riding a bicycle?”

Me: “Because, he’s gay.  I have to get back.”

The next shot was to be Vito lip-synching the line in the chorus, “Nut up on my chest.”  But, he wouldn’t do it.  I felt embarrassed.  I had sold them on the fact that my dog could talk.  But, now I was wondering myself…maybe I only think he can talk because I’m stoned or otherwise inebriated and hallucinate him talking to me.

All Vito wanted to do was go jump in the Chihuahua’s basket.  I finally got him focused and his mouth moving with some treats – so they could dub in the line later.  Vito wasn’t necessarily the tough Pit Bull they were looking for, but I see it as a great starting opportunity.  I’m thinking about hitting up some other rappers soon, you know, hire him out for some photo opps.

As we drove back over the Brooklyn Bridge and away from the skyline that symbolized my former urban and officious life, I felt sad, proud, remiss, and tickled all at the same time.

Of course my mother interrupts my reverie.  “I don’t understand, Myra.  Why were those men wearing tutus?”

Me:  “Because, it’s funny, Mom.”

My Mom: “Your father should’ve been in there, with this big stomach.”

My Dad: “HA HA HA HA.  Very funny, Linda.  Keep talking out your ass.”

It only made my mother laugh harder.

My Dad: “Why don’t I drop you off in Brooklyn?  You and your stepdaughter.”

Me: “Yes, please.”

The video is coming out next week.  I hope this is the start of many things and some well-needed income.  Because I need it, like yesterday.

Posted in: Hip hop, Humor, Life