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It's not every day that our inbox is graced with a tale of deception, seduction and starfuckery involving one of Hollywood's great hellraisers, Gary Busey.

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If I told you I wasn't Gary Busey, you wouldn't have wanted to go out with me

Douchebag season is in full bloom, reports a hoodwinked honey.

garyb.jpg

It's not every day that our inbox is graced with a tale of deception, seduction and starfuckery involving one of Hollywood's great hellraisers, Gary Busey. But then, not every day is like today. The sun's shining, the Red Sox are in town, and Antonia Greco granted us permission to print the following tale on this here blog. Her dalliance with the wannabe Busey, in Greco's words, went as follows:

Bird season may be over; but look out, ladies, because douchebag season is in full bloom! Next time you are out in Seattle, pay attention because you never know just who you may run into. It very well could be famous actor Gary Busey!  Or could it be his not-so-famous but equally-as-manic impersonator? 

For those of you who aren't familiar with Gary Busey, go to Blockbuster and rent "The Buddy Holly Story,"  "Under Seige," or even "Point Break".  Watch closely, though.  The golden blonde hair.  The unmistakable chiclet sized teeth.  It would hardly be possible to confuse him with someone else.  Or would it be?

This past weekend as my friends Kevin, Jessica and I sat down in a booth at a trendy Belltown hot spot, we couldn't help but stare at a particular gentleman at the bar. 

Kevin :"He looks like he's a sailor who just got off a boat in Costa Rica".
Jessica: "I think he looks like a used car salesman".

There was only one way to find out. "Excuse me, sir, my friends and I are a wee bit curious as to what your story is.  By any chance are you a sailor or a car salesman?"

He chuckled.  "Sailor or car salesman, huh?  Actually, I am into film. Just tell your friends, ‘Busey'".

I walked back to the booth in partial confusion to settle the debate. "He says his name is ‘Busey' and he's into film".

Jessica: "Busey?  As in the actor Gary Busey!"  

As I bellied back up to the bar, I ordered our new famous friend a shot of Jameson and invited him to sit with us. He told us about his private island, his multiple homes and his random life experiences. How cool were we? We were hanging out with Gary Busey! 

As the evening winded down, Jessica and I wrote down our numbers to give to this Hollywood relic and we gloated our way down 1st avenue. Later the next day, my phone began to ring and although I didn't recognize the number, I answered it.  The voice staggered slightly on the other end, "Hi there, we were briefly acquainted last night and.." [I interrupt] "Gary?!?!"  He just laughed.  "Oh, so you do remember me?"

Later on that evening, Gary wanted to meet up.  He invited me to a very high end Seattle lounge.  From the second we walked in the door, we were shuffled along and received VIP treatment from our server.  We chatted for a while, and by the time it was closing time, it was also time to pay the bill.  As Gary reached in his pocket, he pulled out a credit card and smacked it on the table.  I peered at the name on the card.  The card definitely did not say "Gary Busey."

"Can I see your driver's license?"  He looked at me a bit surprised.  "Why do you want to see it?" he quipped as he reached into his pocket and surrendered it to me. 

[furious] "Joe Blow? <real name omitted> You're not Gary Busey!  You're a poser!"

"Well, if I told you I wasn't Gary Busey, you wouldn't have wanted to go out with me," he replied.

Shocked and appalled, I got up and walked out of the room. "I guess this means I probably won't see you again?" he yelled as I made my exit.

At least the sociopath was right about one thing.

 
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