Now, this is some performance art shit that belongs in a museum. If a butterriverdancer can get some gallery time, so can a burrito-swallowing Spaz de la Huerta.
You know how on some Monday afternoons you wake up between two parked cars on the street and your hair feels so ratty that you’re convinced two horny street rats mated in it while you were passed out? Just when you start to give thanks that all of your make-up didn’t rub off on the asphalt, a worker from a nearby bodega shoos you away by spraying you with hose water in the face. Suddenly, you’re stumbling down the street SANS FARDS and a chill touches your body as you realize you lost the fur bolero you had on the night before. So you go into a Mexican restaurant to use their bathroom and to also make a scarf out of toilet paper. Three seconds after you leave the bathroom, the Mexican restaurant owner recognizes you as that ho who is always trying to trade handies for platanos with his customers and so he pushes a burrito into your hands and tells you to leave. He doesn’t want any trouble! You walk down a block or two and sit on a stoop to eat your burrito. Then a man sits down next to you and asks you if you can autograph the pussy wig you wore on that HBO show. He bought it on eBay and it’s in his bag.
This happens to you most Monday afternoons, so you should know what I’m talking about. Well, Spaz de la Huerta reenacted this scene in NYC yesterday. I know, finally some real art around this place.