Byrne Ditches Naked Man at Mall

It was so vivid, I could almost swear it really happened," said Littlehead City resident Wyatt Touchdowne about his recent dream involving prominent musician David Byrne. "I mean, we were hanging out together just like we'd been friends for a long time. It was really cool."

Touchdowne, 32, a systems analyst for a California software firm, admitted that in reality, the two have never met.

"But in this dream I had the other night, not only did I get to meet David Byrne, but we spent what seemed like a whole lot of time together, just talking and doing things and stuff. First, I was just kind of walking along this beach, and I realized there was this guy right beside me, and when I looked, it turned out that it was David Byrne, former leader of the band Talking Heads. So we were just walking along, and we were talking and everything, and then pretty soon we were riding in a car together. We got to this house, and I realized in the dream that it was the house I had lived in when I was a teenager. And then David Byrne came into the house with me! He was actually in the house I used to live in!"

"I remember we talked about music and all kinds of stuff, and he was really friendly, just very low-key and casual, and it was just a really very pleasant encounter. At one point I told him that sometimes when I listened to his music, either the things he said or the way he said them just made me laugh. I couldn't help it, I said, I just laughed. He thought that was pretty funny, and he told me in the dream about this part of one song that he sang by calling over the phone and then holding the receiver up to the microphone. That part was really amazing, you know? I mean, how many people get musical tips like that in their dreams from someone like David Byrne?"

"Anyway, so there we were in the living room, and then my mom and my sister came in the room, and then I think they asked me to go to the store or something, because the next thing I knew, the dream kind of shifted, and I realized I was at the mall, but I was standing there naked in front of the Hickory Farms store, and everyone was looking at me. So of course David Byrne was gone by then, but still, it was pretty cool that we got to hang out together."

Asked if it was common for him to have dreams about celebrities, Touchdowne admitted that he had also had dreams involving personalities such as Mick Jagger, Bruce Springsteen, Richard Nixon and Cameron Diaz, among others.

"One of the strangest ones was where I was hanging out with Harry Nilsson," Touchdowne said. "Harry was really cool and everything, but I kept remembering in the dream that he's really dead in real life. So in the dream, I kept saying, 'But aren't you dead? You're dead, aren't you?' He never answered me, but that particular dream never seemed as real as most of the others. Because how can you hang out with a dead guy, you know?"

When this reporter pointed out that Richard Nixon is also dead, Touchdowne replied, "He is? Really? Wow, when did that happen?"

Despite repeated calls to his publicist regarding Touchdowne's dream, Mr. Byrne was not available for comment.

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I'm madder than a skunk who smells like flowers. 'Cause they usually smell like ass, is what I mean.

I just found out there's a usurper to my crown. That's how my sister, Cassandra, phrased it, and it seemed to fit pretty well. Really Branaghian or something. A usurper, for those of you who don't have a smart lawyer sister to tell you, is a real bitch who thinks she's hot shit and tries to steal what you own right out from under you. Picture Christina Aguilera snaking Britney's number one spot with a cheesy cover of some New Edition song.

The tart's name is Jayme Kristofson, and I know that's totally made up. Her real name's probably Shirley Hemphill or something, but she's all showbiz-smart and is trying to steal all my thunder. Her first target is the Metallichick comic book I do. I was too late to notice and before I knew it she went from being some kind of rabid comic book fan—I should have known something was wrong when a girl said she liked comic books—to Nat Herschel's girlfriend. Nat, if you're reading this, if I got the website address right for the first time, she's playing you, dude. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you to your face, but you were ignoring me and had your ears covered and shit. It's called denial, dude—look into it. But you should know better—no one with a body like that really thinks an Elfquest T-shirt is cool. Face facts, man.

I've had my share of hot-to-trot actresses trying to horn in on my business over the years, I'm no newcomer. There was this short teen-ager who used to stand in for me when I was on Who's Your Daddy? and she was always saying she could rehearse a scene in my place when I was too hungover to do it. She knew how to climb the ladder, always getting coffee for the other castmembers and complimenting the director on his work. But I was a smart kid, and Dusty had friends in the cement business who made sure she broke her leg and couldn't stand in so well afterwards. It's a rough game, that's all I got to say. Don't walk in to a fight without someone covering your back.

There are other examples, too, but some of those I was well over 18 and could legally be considered an accomplice, so let's just skip to the point: I know hardball. If this bitch wants to play, I'm bringing my ball. So to speak.

She may be pinning Nat's tail on the donkey, and suggesting costume changes and cover ideas and whatever, but if she thinks she's going any further than that, she don't know Clarissa Coleman. I can bide my time, I can wait in the shadows, but I'll get you in the end. I don't need Dusty's friends to keep you from stealing my role. Especially not since they're all in their mid-90s by now.

Besides, just between you and me, she'll never fit into the costume. Not without hoarding half the world's supply of Kleenex. Not that I'm scared or anything. The fans wouldn't accept it. They're used to my angry growl on the cover of that book each month. Some people may argue you can only see the bottom 25% of my face, like Nat once did, but I say it's enough to tell the difference between a genuine talent and a hack sleeping her way to the—well, slightly elevated above the bottom, anyway.

Truthfully, I'm not even all that happy with this assignment. Posing in a goofy vinyl/plastic costume with a big-ass sword in a freezing basement is good when you're just starting out, but I can do much better, as I keep telling people. But at this point, even if I wanted to leave the job, I wouldn't. She needs to be put in her place but good. If I let her steal this from me, even if I don't want it, the next thing I know she'll be showing up on the Archipelago Law reunion ten years from now. Then I'd have to get that sword out for real.

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My parents are having a trial separation right now. I think that's the word—what's it called when your dad wallops your mom in the head with a brick and they lock him up? That's what's going on anyhow.

It's nothing new for the Coleman clan, but I can understand the police getting all upset about it seeing as how a brick is real hard and stuff. It's not like dad meant to hurt her, they were just re-modeling the place and there's not a lot of soft stuff to grab when you get suddenly enraged, so a brick was handy. The irony is super, though, since they were in the police station to bail my uncle Luke out. At least dad didn't have to suffer that humiliating ride downtown in handcuffs.

If you ask me, and I know I'm asking me, Uncle Luke should have known better. I like him and all, but if the judge throws the book at him I'll understand perfectly. Uncle Luke made a bet that the cops can't bust you for possession if the weed is sitting in the passenger seat while you're driving, like it defies technical definitions of possession. I was educated by a poorly-paid on-set tutor and even I know anywhere in your car counts as possession, it's like a big pocket in the eyes of the law. Anyway, it was sour grapes for dad since all the money he won on the bet had to be used to bail Uncle Luke out. And now he's in the cooler and has no money still.

They've already arraigned dad and denied bail. Not for the assault, but since the judge said dad was pretending to be black. Yeah, I didn't even know judges could do that, it's new to me. The judge called it contempt, but dad called him a motherfucker so they're at a standstill—dad's in jail and will probably be there until the next hearing. At least until he apologizes to the judge or brings in some genealogical evidence there's an African-American in his family tree. I'm betting the last one will be the more likely thing to happen.

Now my mom doesn't want to live at home while he's "visiting orange jumpsuit camp," so she's pushing hard to live with me. I've actually already agreed to it, but she hasn't shown up yet—you pay $69 for a bus ticket and it takes forever before you get your mother. It's gonna be hellish living conditions, I know that up front, but she should do all the cooking and cleaning since it's her way of dominating everybody, just like the shrink said. Call me crazy (he did), but I don't mind being a little domination if it means French toast for breakfast and clean towels in the bathroom.

It's just temporary, I've laid down the law about that. Dad is bound to get a suspended sentence like last time and once he's out, she's out. I don't want this to be some kind of sneak plan to move in with me now that my new show is about to take off. I separated all my bank accounts from theirs when I was 18, and they were eager to do it, too—now that I'm riding high again it's just their tough luck if I've actually got money in it.

The show is still in post-production and negotiations, which means it's not on TV and may never be, but there's still a reasonable assumption it could be. This is the part of the business I hate. Actually, I'm not too fond of the auditioning, the rehearsing, the taping, reading the boring scripts, looking over contracts and seeking work, and the acting part is a little stupid, too. I suppose if they paid me money and just showed me on TV all the time that would be cool. But once again, I haven't figured out how to get on The Real World. It probably involves auditioning, too. But I've still got the mom situation to deal with in the meantime, and if she's not here by tomorrow I'll have to file a claim with Greyhound or something.

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