What I'd give to have a time machine right now...

I'd go back to 1980. I'd apply to be a waitress at Gilley's in Houston. I'd quickly befriend John Travolta. He'll like me because I'll let him in on a new religion I'm inventing. It's based on the time-travel proposed in Slaughterhouse Five. He will be muy impressed.

Once we start getting our pedicures at the same place we'll become best friends. At this point I implement my scheme.

Me: John. In the future you are going to be invited to be in movie called Hairspray.

John: Whoa! Like, what are we talkin' about here?

Me: I can't explain right now. I have to get back to the future. You will be offered a movie called Hairspray. You must refuse.

John: Like, I thought you was just a waitress and now your talkin' bout time travel and hair products? Like, what's up with you, here?

Me: Focus John. Urban Cowboy will be the last movie you'll ever make that you will be attractive in. The last movie. Enjoy the flicker of cuteness you had for 15 minutes because it's about to be over. I want you to promise me you will not ever ever put on a dress and a fat suit and a wig and be in a movie called Hairspray.

John: I can't make no promises 'bout the make-up and dresses, here. Like, you know what I mean, here?

Me: Yes, John. I understand. Just know that it all goes downhill for you from here. Now sign the contract, please.

John: Like, alright. I'll sign whatever, here. Do these super tight jeans make my butt look too big?

Me: No John. You look fine. Just remember what I said. And sign on the back, also. That part has the "I will not be in Staying Alive" clause. Sign it.

Then I'd go back to my real life, contract in hand, and pat myself on the back. Maybe they'll get some loser like Kenickie to play Edna Turnblad. And then I wouldn't have had to throw up from my eyes beholding Bud in drag.

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