My mom used to live in the San Fernando Valley. In addition to being home to most cheap-rent porn companies, it’s also home to amazing public access television gems, like Let’s Paint, Exercise and Blend Drinks.
Years ago, my mom made my sister and I serve homeless people for Thanksgiving at the Laugh Factory in LA. After food was served, we were supposed to go around to people seated and ask if they needed anything.
One woman came in in a wheelchair. She had long, dried out, bleached hair and 3-inch-long hot pink acrylic nails. Something about her looked familiar. I approached her chair and asked if she needed anything.
She told me, “A tall man with long hair.”
That’s when it hit me. I’d seen her before. On public access. I asked my mom, “Is that… Francine Dancer?” My mom and I went over to her, and I noticed the name “Francine” on a label on her wheelchair. My mom asked her politely, “Are you Francine Dancer?”
“WHY YES! You’ve seen my work?”
My mom told her that we loved her show. I told her I liked her nails. She asked for another tall man with long hair.
I can’t really explain the wheelchair thing. In the words of Lucille Bluth, “A piano could stand on those legs.”