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April 13th, 2005 Feminists and Other Needling Issues Current Obsession Tattoos – friend or foe? I have been doing some serious thinking about finally letting a large hairy man brand me with a needle. I’ve known the what-and-where for years – hummingbird near my right hip bone – although I can’t decide which way the hummingbird should be facing. In and heading toward sweet nectar, or out having had his fill of said nectar. Right now I’m leaning towards facing in, because then the little bird would be serving as a guidepost for others. And then there’s the pain factor. I can barely handle visits to Rebecca, Queen of Pain, to get my eyebrows and nether regions waxed. But it is my goal this month to learn to love gin (because that’s what Anne Bancroft drinks in The Graduate), so perhaps I could begin the gin-loving learnin’ right before I go in to get pretty bird wings needled into my skin. Three or four cocktails should do the trick. Today’s Celebrity Gossip Apparently, those horny, soulless housewives on ABC got into a big ol’ meow-fest during their cover shoot for Vanity Fair, which promptly dished all the details in this month’s issue. I brought up this juicy bit of gossip during an outing with a gentleman friend (who we’ll call Strider), who remarked, “Well, it was just a matter of time, right?” Because of course, powerful, beautiful women cannot be in the same room together for very long before they turn into jealous, catty bitches, a stereotype reinforced by countless reality shows and now an Emmy-award winning program. So thanks, you Housewife ho’s, for that helpful boost to feminism. Others doing their part to bring down feminism: Britney Spears, Lindsey Lohan, Oprah (I know I have hate mail coming my way but I swear she’s turning her disciplines into identity-free fembots), and, of course, me. That’s right, I can’t let myself off the hook, after all I did get into a catfight with a Nordstrom salesgirl, but at least I’m trying to change my ways. I wrote a note to Nordygirl (formerly known as Blondo) apologizing for my behavior and complimenting her mink-like hair, and we’re meeting later this week for a Sephora spree. Also, I plan to study great feminists of the ages, like Virginia Woolf, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Anne Bancroft. Sure, Mrs. Robinson makes some questionable moves, but she does it with style and confidence. And holding a gin martini, which is why I must learn to like gin – see, it’s all part of my feminist education. So tonight, I’m going to make myself a cocktail or two and settle down to read The Hours, and soon I will be enlightened. Profound Thought Turns out The Hours isn’t a book by Virginia Woolf, but a movie about Virginia Woolf, starring Nicole Kidman with a fake nose. Who knew? I thought that movie was just about Nicole Kidman and Meryl Streep getting busy, and I don’t really find Meryl Streep attractive in that way. So I think I’ll just rent The Hours instead, because after all it’s about Virginia Woolf, so it’s practically the same thing as reading a book actually penned by the woman. Besides, I’m a rather slow reader. So I will shake my martini and pop in the ol’ disc, thank you, Netflix, and feminist education, here I come. Profound Thought 2 This movie is depressing. But ooooh, gin is deliciouss! Uch.
Comments? Indecent proposals? Righteous indignation? |
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