In my twenties, I was convinced that the sun rose and set for me alone. I rarely thought about spirituality and probably didn’t know who the Vice President was as I was so self absorbed in carving out a career for myself as an actress on Broadway, i.e., Gotham aka Manhattan.  The God I served was my over sized and ever growing ego.  Ambition is the breeding ground for ego and mine was giddyup through the roof.  I have a cookbook called, “Laughter is the Best Recipe” and no truer words were ever spoken than “Laugh and the world laughs with you but weep and you weep alone.” Laughter has always been my recipe for maintaining any semblance of balance in an upside down world.  Frankly, even though I’ve never been quite “normal” in the normal sense of the word, I’ve always maintained a sense of humor – particularly with regards to my own shortcomings.  How easy it is to laugh at others – but how not so easy it is to face and  laugh at our own foibles.  That’s a little “perk” that God gave me knowing the tough road that lay before me.

During those early years in Gotham, my roomie and dear friend Lovie, was a wildly imaginative, outrageous, kind, overly generous best friend, painter, mother superior and queen of all queens. When I stepped foot for the first time in Manhattan, I was very naive and Lovie looked out for me, taught me how to dress, who to stay away from and how to network in that ocean of sharks.  He was a great painter in his own right and sold to many of the rich and famous – thus we were always schlepping to trendy parties in Manhattan that were  frequented by the “who’s who” in New York.  We walked in to one such “gathering” and right off the bat – this strange white haired little man came running over to Lovie who immediately introduced him to me as Andy Warhol.  I had seen his work, wasn’t impressed, didn’t like it and thought it tedious at best. But Andy himself was a hoot!  Everything about his persona was measured and a centimeter off…this being a ploy on his end to keep your attention focused on him – knowing that the other person would be totally riveted on him as they tried to figure out what was wrong, if there was anything wrong, or if it was just a figment of their imagination.  His bow tie ever so slightly cocked to one side, his hair looking much like a fright wig gone askew, his eyebrows slightly off by a hair, the length of his jacket slightly off  by a few centimeters on one side and his pale face looking as though it had been dipped in formaldehyde.                                                                                      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!”

Attila Honey

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mom: willie, did you make up your bed?

willie: I can’t remember

mom: you just came out of your bedroom so you know if you did or didn’t make up your bed

willie: mom, you’ve  said that three time now

mom: No, actually it’s two but this is the third and nice time

Did you make up your bed (as I grab him by the back of his shirt into a room not fit for man nor beast)

mom: OMG! This is a pig pen. I can’t even see the bed. Now right now – start cleaning!

willie: mom, I’ll be late for school

mom: No matter, I’ll cover for you and also have a chat with Sister Claire – remember the one you locked in the broom closet?

willie: Aw mom – why do you always have to nag?

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.’

nag #2 ‘Sweetheart, your dinner is getting cold.’

nag #3 ‘Honey, your dinner is in the frig – whenever you are ready.’

Then, I take his dinner, throw it in the trash and write him a sweet note on a jar of peanut butter in the front of the refrigerator that says. “ Next time, try coming to the table after the first nag!”

Now, if you are a man and reading this – you probably don’t like what I’m saying as it’s making your testosterone turn into Limburger cheese -  but come on – you know I’m telling the truth.  If you are a woman who has raised kids and has a husband – you definitely understand.  Yep! nagging is a wonderful gift to women. We get it out of our system and never get ulcers. But the trick is not to get mad when you nag…no, think of some classical music like ‘Swan Lake’ and nag to that tune…it won’t have much of an affect on the other person but it will keep you happy and positive – and after all, if the little woman isn’t happy – is the rest of the house going to be? See where I’m going with this?

Attila Honey

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‘My name is Khan’ is not a film you can dismiss lightly – and will spark much debate and discussion. The biggest criticism is that it is pro Muslim and appeals more to emotion than fact. The film is about a human being that will invoke emotion mainly in the Muslim community.

Personally, I found the music beautiful but the storyline tedious and they might have consulted with Allah before making this film for He might have suggested to the filmmakers that God could have created the world ten times over in the time it took to make ‘My Name is Khan.’ By time the popcorn is sold out, the viewer doesn’t give a damn. As usual Americans are portrayed in a derogatory way after 9/11.

I’d like to make a movie called “Attila loves America and if you don’t -  please go home!”

Attila Honey

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Certain vegetables need be cut open by the produce manager to determine if they are fresh. I’ve never gone to an Italian market where this isn’t automatically done with pride – but OH NO…not my produce “I hate your guts” manager! So I’m standing in front of the oranges – trying to decide if  they are fresh or frozen inside like the last batch. As I stood there pondering the fate of my husband,  Lard Arse the gourmet cook’s breakfast, Sam the Produce Man brushes his big belly against my side and looks at me as though I hadn’t used deodorant since the Boston Teaparty. I very nicely said, ” Sam, would you kindly cut one of these open so I can see if it’s fresh?” He said, “Lady! I’ll cut – then you pay!” I said, “I won’t pay if it’s rotten and how wll I know if it’s not frozen like the last batch.”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,”

Attila Honey

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I was sitting at the kitchen table making love beads when the labor pains began – not hours apart – as the Doctor had told me – but minutes apart. My thoughts flashed back to Madrid where I had my first son and I immediately ran to the telephone and told Em the pains were 5 minutes apart. OMG! I thought, “I should’ve remained a virgin!” She said in a very calm tone, ” Darlin, not to worry – God will take care of you. There is no time for me to drive there or even call an ambulance. You must drive yourself! You can do this. God will take care of everything.” When she said those words, “you’ll have to drive yourself, ” I came close to having a cardiac arrest. And yes, I did think, “OMG! I should’ve remained a virgin!” However, I quickly overcame this moment of panic, grabbed my packed bag by the door and shoved both kids into the car. I’m sure I had no more than $2 worth of gas – just enough to get me to the hospital. The labor pains were now three minutes apart and it was getting quite dark as we drove on that desolate country road passing corn field after corn field. I thought, “Well, if the baby Jesus was born in a barn and he turned out OK, then this kid might just be born in a corn field and turn out just fine!” It might be worth noting that Willie kept up his mantra for thirty minutes, ‘I WANT M & M’s!” While all of this was going on in my head Willie kept rocking back and forth in the back seat repeating non stop, “I WANT M & M’s, I WANT M & M’s.” The pains were really coming fast but I put petal to the metal and – miracle of all miracles, we made it just in the nick of time. I drove that Chevy right up and almost into the entrance glass doors of JFK Hospital. I grabbed the kids by their shirts – the one still screaming, “I WANT M & M’s!”, threw my car keys at the front desk and said, ” I’m having a baby! You park the car if there’s enough gas left in it!” They briskly wheeled me into emergency where both nurses and doctors were in a state of shock that I had driven such a distance while I was fully dilated. Any woman who has had a baby understands what this means. When you are fully dilated, it means the baby’s head is in place and ready to come out. At that juncture that kid does not care where you are much less what you’re doing. It only knows…”Hey, I’m geting out of here!”The nurse called Em and she reassured the nurse that she was but a couple of  minutes away and to tell Willie she had M & M’s for him. The minute I was rolled onto the operating table, the water bag broke and the baby was born five minutes later. It was a frank breach delivery, which means that it’s head was up and fists up and his feet came out first…the opposite of a normal delivery. All of this might have had serious implications had I not firmly believed Em when she said, “Don’t worry darlin, God will take care of you.” I remembered all too vividly having my first child in Madrid with severe labor pains and nothing to ease that agony. This was a natural childbirth and he came out like a little warrior with his fists in the air and kicking. Em was siting right outside the operating room. The moment she heard that first cry – she walked in and her beautiful blue eyes were the first he saw in this mortal world. I had paid for my room in advance so I was shocked to find myself in a bed in a busy hallway. But that’s life – the rooms were packed to overflowing. However, I was so happy to see this little rascal – after all we had been through together – that I could care less. He was a healthy baby, I was out of a hellish life and Willie had his M & Ms. Within minutes, Em was standing beside my bed with a freshly baked stuffed apple and sandwiches made with her own special recipe. Above all, she was there. Looking back on it all, I realize that those were the moments when my path to God Realization began in earnest. Em was my dearest and best friend for over 30 years. In her sixties, she rented a chicken coop for $20 a month and from those humble origins, she created a successful corporation…herself the CEO.  But to me – she was always teacher, friend and above all – mystic mother.                                              Em passed away at the young age of 93. A day never passes that I do not think of her. I owe my life to that wonderful friend.

Attila Honey

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