Andy Warhol and me. I wrote a blog on Andy several days ago and this is part 2. I had written in my previous blog about my first encounter with Andy, the King of the famous Campbell Soup Cans.where we met at a trendy Manhatten party. www.bookrags.com/Andy_Warhol. 
Yep! Andy Warhol and me – we stood together discussing his fascination with “I’m not really doing film maker films”, and asked me make one of his movies which was simply kissing someone for two hours (not even coming up for air or OMG! going to the bathroom) Career wise, it was a bad move on my part to decline – as Andy was King in the New York scene – but making artsy movies wasn’t what I had come to New York to achieve. He looked at me once again as though I hadn’t heard the word “Kiss” so our conversation went something like this when I quizzed him on the name of the movie, etc.
Me: What’s the name of the movie?
Andy: Kiss
Me: Who would I have to kiss and for how long?
Andy: Anyone you like but it’s for two hours
Me: Hummmmmmmmm. Nope! I really don’t think so. Nope! Not right for that part because I have allergies,
Andy: Oh! Well, think about it. 
So I gave it serious thought (about 30 seconds) and declined. He had a startled look on his face and suggested that we get together the following week. I thought to myself, “For what? I’m not going to do this cockamamie movie and I couldn’t get my food down looking at the dandruff snowfall on his shoulders.” But I said, ” Yeah let’s do lunch next week, I’d love that.” When I think about on my level of ambition during the seventies – I really can’t point a finger at anyone but those days were simply a precursor to how that pendulum called life can swing so quickly from the so called upside to the downside – and without notice. But before I could further put the nail in the coffin of my career, Lovie whisked me away (not before giving Andy a peck on the cheek) and pulled me to another corner of the room to meet the director of a new off Broadway play. When I told Lovie what had transpired, he almost had a cardiac arrest. He told me that Andy was one of the great talents of his generation (I don’t think so…r.i.p,) and proceeded to lecture me. But I stood my ground and told him that I didn’t give a damn AND I wouldn’t pay two cents for his (^%R%^)*^&%&!!! soup can!. Much to Lovie’s chagrin, the whole idea turned me off – career or no career. In retrospect, that must have been the definitive moment when some semblance of a genuine human being inside of me was trying to escape…so we left to go to another party. As we were walking in the village, I saw this strange man singing in a high falsetto voice, “Tiptoe through the Tulips,” and I pulled Lovie over to hear him….hoping to quell his anger at what I’d done. Tiny was strumming his banjo and singing on the street corner the same song over and over again. But that story and story is for another day. Right now, my husband “lard arse the cave man” is sick of my blogging because it interferes with his din-din…so we’ll do Tiny Tim another day. It’s a funny story…Tiny Tim and me and Andy Warhol and me. What a hoot!
Attila Honey
Andy Warhol, where are you when I need a good laugh! What a trip he was. Recently, one of his works sold fo 50M which is almost obscene in its utter insanity. Although I knew Andy – I was never a fan of his art. In my opinion, his genius lay in the marketing of Andy Warhol – far superior to any of his art. 
I whispered to Lovie that he should make friends with Revlon. Someone beckoned Lovie to the other side of the room which left Andy and I standing together. He said something complimentary to me and then he proceeded to ask me if I wanted to be in his new film. At that point in time, Andy was making a lot of artsy films in which the actors did precisely what the title of the film stated. In the film “Sleep”, all the actor was required to do was sleep for two hours on screen. Get the picture? Andy said to me, “Would you please star in my new film called Kiss? I responded, “What would I have to do and who would I have to kiss and for how long?” Andy replied, “Kiss anyone you like but it’s for two hours.” I thought to myself, “O give it a rest Louise!” Andy Warhol, multi millionaire and King of the Campbell Soup Can – R.I.P. I think of him sometimes and say, “Andy Warhol, where are you when I need a good laugh!”
Nagging is a wonderful gift to women. In fact, nagging is an art form. Why? Well, why the hell not? Nagging is the result of not finding resolution to a serious problem and it goes like this:
Yes, nagging is a wonderful gift to women… if done properly, which usually equates to a threat in some form or other. Women nag for one reason and that is because they don’t find resolution. It’s like my husband, “Lard Arse the I’ve always got my nose in a book” when I say dinner is ready and ten minutes later, he’s still got his nose in the book. So I go into action nag #1 ‘Honey, your dinner is on the table.’
O.K. I know that hate is a pretty strong word but so is calling a good customer a thief. The graphic above is exactly what my produce manager looks like except he wears the store cap and t shirt which exposes the lower half of his belly as they don’t make in 5X sizes.
That went well…so when he turned away to irritate someone else, I found a file in my purse and cut the orange in half. Then I ate every last piece of it and it was delicious. I bought two dozen. But before I left, I sliced another open and stuck two grapes with a toothpicks for eyes for a sample “cut open orange” and put a cherry for the mouth. I attached a note that said, “Attila Honey ate one of these oranges and found it delicious. She did not pay for it as the produce manager owes her for 12 oranges that were frozen and 12 avocados that were black inside. Outside of that – I highly recommend these oranges.Yours truly,”
