Posts tagged ‘Beauty’

Light and Truth: Exhibit A

May 28, 2012 at 6:47 pm 1 comment

Excerpt from “Who Wants to Marry a Savant?”

Nicole Mitchell was her name. All of the girls at our high school called her “Nicole Bitchell” because, as I often overheard, she was a “heinous bitch on wheels.” I didn’t know Nicole well enough to confirm the accuracy of all the rumors that surrounded her, and I didn’t care. All I know is that she had an exceptional voice.

I was a freshman. She was a senior. We had dress rehearsal the night before the opening of the spring pop show, and all the choirs were practicing together for the first time. The freshman show choir had just finished our final song, and we sat on the risers instead of leaving the stage. We cleared a path in the middle for Nicole, who planned to begin her performance of “River Deep, Mountain High” right after our number ended. Our choir director told us to pretend we were at a concert with Nicole as the main attraction.

Nicole entered the stage at the top center of the risers as the fog machine began to gently huff. She wore a white, strapless dress that was so tight you could practically see the outline of her ovaries and so short you could . . . Her curves spilled out of both sides of the dress, and her tangerine stilettos added nearly half a foot to her petite stature. The background music began to play as Nicole slowly strutted down the risers. I gazed upward at her, as instructed by our director, as she drew the microphone to her plump lips.

When I was a little girl
I had a rag doll
The only doll I ever owned
Now I love you just the way
I loved that rag doll
But only now my love has grown  

Nicole paused on the last step. She tilted her neck back.

And it gets STRONGER in every way
And it gets DEEPER let me say
And it gets HIGHER day by day

Nicole arrived at the front center of the stage just before she began singing the chorus. Her chestnut hair cascaded down her back, ending at the top of her ample backside.

And do I love you, my oh my?
River deep, mountain high, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH
If I lost you, would I cry?
Oh how I love you, baby, BABY, BABY, BABY!

When she began the next verse, I felt a sensation—foreign yet familiar. I don’t remember the rest of the performance. I just remember feeling giddily nauseated by her white-hot aura.

March 9, 2012 at 8:15 pm 1 comment

PG-Rated Homoerotica

Stay tuned for “PG-13 Homoerotica.”

Boys just want to have fun!! In one of many great scenes from The Rules of Attraction, Paul (Ian Somerhalder) and Dick (Russell Sams) enjoy a little friskiness on a hotel bed before heading down to dinner with their pill-popping moms. George Michael provides the soundtrack. Enjoy!

July 14, 2011 at 10:49 pm 3 comments

Excerpt from “The Little Black Box”

He wanted to know what she thought about when she masturbated—or even when she made love.  She told him the secret was inside a “little black box,” to which he did not have access.  He asked her how to obtain access.

She said he couldn’t:  Obtaining access would be akin to meeting the man behind the emerald curtain.

November 10, 2010 at 8:48 pm Leave a comment

Goodbye for Now, Boyfriend

I just found out that our beloved cat, Boyfriend, died yesterday.  He was at least 12, but we’ll never know his exact age because he just started coming by our house one day and eventually decided to stay.  He was blind in one eye and had a cute little birthmark on his lip.  Boyfriend was a pacifist, a diplomat, and a master snuggler.

It’s been over a decade since I lost a pet and less than two years since Alex died, so Boyfriend’s death is really difficult for me.  I like to think I’ll see him again, though, and I find solace in that hope.

When asked whether animals have souls and could experience an afterlife, author and veterinarian James Herriot replied, “If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans. You’ve nothing to worry about there.”

Cats really are just little people in fur coats.

September 9, 2010 at 11:48 pm Leave a comment

Team Snooki: “Jersey Shore” Returns for Round 2 on July 29

Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino called her “a chihuahua spray-painted black.” Cathy Horyn, a journalist for The New York Times, likened her to “a turnip turned on its tip” and described her as “incapable of serious introspection.”  A grown man punched her in the face.

Standing a mere 4 feet and 9 inches tall, Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi is ethnically ambiguous (turns out she’s of Chilean descent but was adopted by Italian American parents), sexually curious, and outright boisterous.  She wears her hair in a signature bouffant, a smaller version of which can be seen on nearly every member of the 12-20 female demographic.  Snooki is the only member of the Jersey Shore cast to have her own Wikipedia page, and fans around the world eagerly await the August release of her talking bobble head.  She is like the fake-tanned, pint-sized version of reality princess Tiffany “New York” Pollard:  With plenty of curves in all the right places and a strange fascination with pickles, Snooki has a penchant for grabbing attention and inciting drama.

Message boards on YouTube and all the gossip sites are littered with trash talk about the self-proclaimed “guidette,” but Snooki seems to take it all in stride.  Although she battled an eating disorder in high school, Snooki maintains a relatively healthy body image, especially for a young woman under the media’s ruthless magnifying glass.

I hope the reality star has more hook-ups and fewer bruises this season, and I’m elated that she’s already signed on for round 3.  Jersey Shore would not be nearly as wet or as wild without her.

July 27, 2010 at 8:40 am Leave a comment

Goo Goo for Gaga

Have you ever liked someone as a friend or acquaintance or even distant contact and—FLASH! BAM! ALAKAZAM!—all of a sudden and without warning, you felt much more strongly?

Lady Gaga, I think I love you.

I fought the feeling at first. I considered her act wannabe Madonna and wondered when her 15 minutes of fame would run out. I dissed “Just Dance” and “Poker Face” and even called her outfits and performance at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards “outright ridiculous.”

But I have since changed my mind. Lady Gaga is like a lascivious mutant love child of Madonna, Elton John, Gwen Stefani, Cher, and David Bowie. Her performances are completely over-the-top, her voice is spectacularly versatile, her wardrobe is bizarre/sexy/original/fearless, and she identifies as bisexual. Her music defies genre, and her sexuality transcends social constructs.

Not to be arrogant, but I’m pretty sure Lady Gaga would want to have sex with me if she and I knew each other. Gaga seems like the kind of woman who gets around—not in a slutty way but in a cosmopolitan, open-minded sort of way. And although she’s admitted having sexual relationships with women (see the Barbara Walters interview), she has only been in love with men. Sounds like someone I know.

So, Gaga, hire me as your entertainment lawyer or personal trainer or backup dancer or—better yet—conjoined twin. I run circles around Alejandro.

July 21, 2010 at 5:57 pm 2 comments

Vanity v. Thrift: Round 1

Q: I’m a 56-year-old woman who doesn’t look a day over 43. I work hard to look as good as I do, and I take pride in my appearance. However, the movie theater by my house has a “senior citizen” discount for people 55 and older. The SC tickets are 5 dollars cheaper! I love passing for younger, but I also love a good deal. Do I shell out the extra money or admit to my SC status?

LG: Duh! Saving 5 dollars is like 50% off!! Looking 43 instead of 56 is like…23% younger! (You do the math.) In all seriousness, you should go for the SC discount. Most businesses these days realize that 50 is the new 40, so they only give SC discounts to patrons 65 and older. Take advantage of the fruits of your…wisdom. Also, if you really look over a decade younger than you really are, then you will feel absolutely flattered when the cashier asks for your i.d. in total disbelief.

June 23, 2010 at 6:30 am Leave a comment

Excerpt from “The Rental Property”

I wanted to wear something special for the SAE formal, so I asked Lera if she had anything I could borrow.

Lera was the kind of woman who thought she was prettier than she really was.  You know the type: a “six” who thinks she’s a “nine,” a woman who dresses as if she’s 30 pounds lighter and 10 years younger than she actually is. She also had an inflated sense of intellect, parenting skills, and sexual prowess. In the beginning, I didn’t notice her superficial or personality flaws. Once the relationship started to sour, however, she began to disgust me in the strangest of ways.

“Try this blue cocktail dress. It’s too big for me, so you can keep it if you like it.”

The dress was a size 6, so I knew it would be too tight. I took it into the master bathroom and pretended to try it on.

“Oh, this is way too big,” I hollered. “I think I’ll just wear the one I bought.”

“Let me see,” Lera requested skeptically as she opened the bathroom door without knocking.

“Oops! Too late. Here ya go. I gotta get ready.” I casually handed her the dress and turned on the shower, hoping she’d take the cue.

She didn’t.

June 5, 2010 at 10:00 am Leave a comment

Celebrating “Semi-Charmed Life”

In the summer of 1997, my girlfriends and I camped out in a backyard tent and listened to “Semi-Charmed Life” on repeat for several hours. I’m the kind of person who tires after hearing a threshold amount of even the best music (How many times can a person really stand to listen to The Joshua Tree or Thriller?), but this Third-Eye Blind hit has never ceased to astound me.

As thirteen-year-olds, we only somewhat understood the sexually and chemically charged lyrics. Also, the breezy, fast-faced tempo made it difficult to decipher what lead singer Stephan Jenkins was even singing. It didn’t help that we couldn’t just “Google” a line from the song and retrieve the lyrics. I recall mistaking “And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse” with “And it speaks to you like the birds in the forest.”

Now, of course, I realize that “Semi-Charmed Life” is the seminal anthem of sex, drugs, and rock & roll. It was also my brother’s theme song. We played it at his memorial service, and it was awesome to hear “Doin’ crystal meth will lift you up until you break” and “How do I get back there to the place where I fell asleep inside you?” blast in a room full of relatives, young people, old people, Christians, atheists, and floral arrangements.

I went to Newport Beach this past weekend and had a great time slowly running my bare feet through the sand. I thought, “I believe in the sand beneath my toes / The beach gives a feeling / An earthy feeling / I believe in the faith that grows.” I thought about how hard it really seems, sometimes, to get through this bittersweet, ironic, defeating, gratifying, semi-charmed life. I thought about how I can’t not believe that there’s life after death. I simply cannot accept a reality in which I will never see Alex again.

I’m not listening when you say goodbye…

April 1, 2010 at 6:14 am 1 comment

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