February 29, 2008

-image-flickr page obsession

I don’t remember how or when I discovered Italian photographer’s Frederico Erra’s flickr page, but I’m so glad I did. I love his work and now, frankly, wish I spoke Italian so I could make better sense of the captions underneath them. Knowing Spanish helps a little.

I can’t upload any of the images here, but click on over there. On that first page, scroll down, looking at the left-hand column, to a photo called “colors-hours” with model Sarah. I gotta tell you. She’s probably one of the most amazing looking creatures I’ve seen in a long time, with that completely freckled face and those huge, haunting eyes. She’s like Carol Kane and Goldie Hawn and something otherworldly all rolled into one. He’s got a whole category for her called “My Sarah.”

He has some self-portraits and he’s attractive, no doubt, but I look at them and — perhaps unfairly — jump to conclusions about him that don’t involve words like “funny” and “easy-going” and “plays well with others.” I’m somewhat scared of him.

Nonetheless, check him out. Tell me what you think. Check out the “My Sarah” category; I’m obsessed with her face.

February 28, 2008

-image-lazy movie meme

Easy-peasy lazy movie meme.

Bold movies you have watched and liked or loved.
Italicize movies you saw and didn’t like.
Leave as is movies you haven’t seen.

I’m not going into big explanations on these. Obviously, there are degrees of like and dislike. But here goes:

The Godfather (1972)
The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
The Godfather: Part II (1974)
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966)
Pulp Fiction (1994)
Schindler’s List (1993)
Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975)
Casablanca (1942)
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)
Star Wars (1977)

12 Angry Men (1957)
Rear Window (1954)
No Country for Old Men (2007)
Goodfellas (1990)
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)

City of God (2002)
Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)
The Usual Suspects (1995)
Psycho (1960)
Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
Citizen Kane (1941)
The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
North by Northwest (1959)
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)
Fight Club (1999)
Memento (2000)
Sunset Blvd. (1950)
Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

The Matrix (1999)
Taxi Driver (1976)
Se7en (1995) Hated this. So disturbing.
Apocalypse Now (1979)
American Beauty (1999)
Vertigo (1958
Amélie (2001)
The Departed (2006) Oh, I don’t know why. I feel guilty because it won Best Picture. But then so did The English Patient. And I’m right about that piece o’ poo.
Paths of Glory (1957)
American History X (1998)
To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
Chinatown (1974)
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

The Third Man (1949)
A Clockwork Orange (1971)
Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) Guess I’m the only one.
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)
Alien (1979)
The Pianist (2002)
The Shining (1980)
Double Indemnity (1944)
L.A. Confidential (1997)
Leben der Anderen, Das [The Lives of Others] (2006)
The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)
Boot, Das (1981)

The Maltese Falcon (1941)
Saving Private Ryan (1998) Not exactly “don’t like,” but have deep ambivalence.
Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Forrest Gump (1994) Run, Forrest, run! No, keep running! Away!
Metropolis (1927)
Aliens (1986)
Raging Bull (1980)
Rashômon (1950)
Singin’ in the Rain (1952)
Rebecca (1940)
Hotel Rwanda (2004)
Sin City (2005)
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
All About Eve (1950)
Modern Times (1936)
Some Like It Hot (1959)

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) Uhm, saw this long ago and I wasn’t in the mood. I think admitting this is probably a sacrilege.
The Seventh Seal (1957)
The Great Escape (1963)
Amadeus (1984)
On the Waterfront (1954)

Touch of Evil (1958)
The Elephant Man (1980)
The Prestige (2006) I can’t remember which “magic” movie this one is. I saw one of them.
Vita è bella, La [Life Is Beautiful] (1997)
Jaws (1975)
The Manchurian Candidate (1962)
The Sting (1973)

Strangers on a Train (1951)
Full Metal Jacket (1987)
The Apartment (1960)
City Lights (1931)
Braveheart (1995)

Cinema Paradiso (1988)
Batman Begins (2005)
The Big Sleep (1946)
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
Once Upon a Time in America (1984)
Blade Runner (1982)
The Great Dictator (1940)
The Wizard of Oz (1939)
Notorious (1946)

Salaire de la peur, Le [The Wages of Fear](1953)
High Noon (1952)
Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi (1983)
Fargo (1996)

The Bourne Ultimatum (2007)
Unforgiven (1992)
Back to the Future (1985)
Ran (1985)

Oldboy (2003)
Million Dollar Baby (2004)
Cool Hand Luke (1967)
Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003) I LOVE the Kill Bill movies!
Donnie Darko (2001)
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
The Green Mile (1999) Eh.
Annie Hall (1977)
Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949)
Gladiator (2000)
The Sixth Sense (1999)
Diaboliques, Les [The Devils] (1955)
Ben-Hur (1959)
It Happened One Night (1934)
The Deer Hunter (1978)
Life of Brian (1979)
Die Hard (1988)

The General (1927)
American Gangster (2007)
Platoon (1986)
Don’t know if “like” is the word here.
V for Vendetta (2005) Didn’t I go off on this movie on this blog? Blech.
Judgment at Nuremberg (1961)
The Graduate (1967)
The Princess Bride (1987)
Crash (2004/I)

The Wild Bunch (1969)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
Letters from Iwo Jima (2006)
Heat (1995)
Gandhi (1982)
Harvey (1950)

The Night of the Hunter (1955)
The African Queen (1951)
Stand by Me (1986)
Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (2004)
Witness for the Prosecution (1957)
The Big Lebowski (1998)
The Conversation (1974)
Little Miss Sunshine (2006)
Wo hu cang long [Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon ] (2000)
The Grapes of Wrath (1940)
Gone with the Wind (1939)
3:10 to Yuma (2007)

Cabinet des Dr. Caligari., Das [The Cabinet of Dr Caligari] (1920)
The Thing (1982)
Groundhog Day (1993)
The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

Sleuth (1972)
Patton (1970)
Toy Story (1995)
Glory (1989)
Out of the Past (1947)
Twelve Monkeys (1995) Can’t remember really why.
Ed Wood (1994)
Spartacus (1960)
The Terminator (1984)
In the Heat of the Night (1967)
The Philadelphia Story (1940)
The Exorcist (1973)
Frankenstein (1931)
Anatomy of a Murder (1959)

The Hustler (1961)
Toy Story 2 (1999)
The Lion King (1994)
Big Fish (2003)
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998)
Bonnie and Clyde (1967)
Young Frankenstein (1974)
Magnolia (1999)
A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)
In Cold Blood (1967)
Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
Dial M for Murder (1954)

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930)
Roman Holiday (1953)
A Christmas Story (1983)
Casino (1995)
Manhattan (1979)
Ying xiong [Hero] (2002)

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003) Unless this is the first one. That’s the only one I liked. Johnny Depp notwithstanding.
Rope (1948)
Cinderella Man (2005)
The Searchers (1956)
Finding Neverland (2004)
Inherit the Wind (1960)

His Girl Friday (1940)
A Man for All Seasons (1966)
Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962)

Wow. The ones left as-is give me some good ideas for Thee Olde Netflix queue!

-image-book inscriptions

I love this site.

-image-at the bookstore

We were hanging out at the bookstore the other day, sitting there with our pile of books and our coffees from the in-store cafe. A mom came in with her two kids, a little boy who looked about four and a little girl who looked about three. I watched them at the condiment stand after they got their drinks. The mom had a cappuccino; the kids had hot chocolates. Mom helped them with their lids, got them all set to drink, and as they started to walk away, the little girl had a flash, as if she’d forgotten something. “I have to pay! I have to pay!” Her older brother looked at her and said matter-of-factly, from his place of much greater life experience, “You don’t have to pay. You’re a baby.”

February 26, 2008

-image-ai — top 10 men

Just a general note: There’s a problem — and it’s this way every season — and the problem is the disconnect between the singer and the words, between the singer and the song. It’s 70s night and Robbie Carrico just sang Hot-Blooded as if he were cold-blooded or no-blooded or as if he were channeling Carrie Underwood. I’m sure the show must have vocal coaches, etc., but what about acting coaches? People who can help them connect to the words they’re singing. Something. They’ve gotta be able to perform, not just sing. Especially with the guys, the cultural vibe these days is for them to be so ironic or so detached, off-hand, that they bring that detachment to the songs — to the detriment of the overall performance.

– All right. Just now, with David Hernandez and Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone. THAT’S how to do it. He understood it tonight or connected with the song in addition to singing it incredibly well technically.

– Oh. Ugh. Okay. Example of what I’m saying just happened: Jason Yeager singing “Long Train Runnin'” and smiling a huge goofy smile when he sang: You know I saw Miss Lucy/ Down along the tracks/ She lost her home and her family/ and she won’t be comin’ back. Dude, what?? SHE LOST HER HOME AND HER FAMILY AND SHE WON’T BE COMIN’ BACK!! Do you GET that?? Unless you’re playing some kind of higher game and this is now a song about schadenfreude. Otherwise, it is not a Disney moment. Ugh. I cannot stand this guy and he just gets worse. KA-POW!

You know, I’m not writing about any of the rest of the guys. They’re bugging me. There’s a general air of smugness and/or defensiveness with too many of them. They want to argue with Simon or show off their “superior knowledge” or say things like, “I don’t need to win you over, Simon.”

It bugs. You’re all in time out.

Hold it. Wait. Oh, man. Last singer of the night. Little David …. making everyone cry with Imagine. That was perfection. Damn. I’m speechless. Best AI performance in a long long long time. That little cherub could well be unstoppable. Go, little David.

-image-more “fantasticks” photos

Dreamer Luisa, caught up in romance, anywhere, everywhere, wanting “her bandit” (El Gallo) to whisk her away to see the world.



“It’s a far better thing that I do now
Than I have ever done before!”
Isn’t that beautiful? That man was beheaded.

El Gallo:

I’m not surprised.

(Sorry to ruin the moment, but my hair is freakin’ ridiculous. And my comma eyebrows. That’s Leo as El Gallo. He was so OLD, like, 25.)

El Gallo sings of visions of the larger world, seducing her with glories, glossing over horrors. Luisa eats it up.


I seem to see Venice
We’re on a lagoon
A gondolier’s crooning
A gondola tune
The air makes your hair billow blue in the moon

I could swoon!

You’re so blue in the moon!

El Gallo promises to run away with her. She asks for a kiss first and he kisses her on the eyes — her dream come true. (Sheesh, Luisa. Dream big, girl!)


El Gallo:

One word, Luisa, listen:
I want to tell you this –
I promise to remember too
That one particular kiss
… And now hurry; we have a lifetime for kisses.


You’ll wait here?

El Gallo:

I promise.

(Liar! LIAR! Yeah, he’s not there when she gets back so she can learn, you know, a thing or two about the real world. As an aside: I’d forgotten what a great face old man Leo had. And huge hands! Good Lord. Also, I hated that blouse with a white-hot hate. It just fit weird. In the privacy of my dorm room, I sobbed heartfelt odes to my vanity about having to wear it. Good times. Good times.)

More Fantasticks posts here and here and here.

February 25, 2008

-image-another thing about the oscars

Okay. I think somewhere in last night’s whiskey-soaked Oscar post, I said that Julie Christie looked fabulous. Because I only saw her sitting. I only saw that gorgeous face. What I didn’t see were the leg-warmers on her arms:

So I was in the dark til now about her nearly full-body Sharpei look. And today, she’s gotten a lot of vehement post-Oscar criticism for this look and deservedly so: “Horrible.” “Worst dressed.” “What in tarnation was she thinking?” etc.

But then Helen Mirren has also gotten horribly ragged on for this because of the sleeves:


Now, come on. The silhouette on Mirren’s gown — the overall shape and what it does to her waist — is amazing. And I don’t hate the sleeves, either, but they’re not my favorite part of the gown. But to blast these two as if the fashion missteps are equal? No. I don’t get it.

And maybe that’s why Vogue isn’t calling me to be their editor. Bastards.

February 24, 2008

-image-oscars 2008

Live-blog. No particular rhyme or reason here, just what strikes me. Might make sense; might not; don’t care. I write off the top of my head. Or it could all be my old nemesis Jack Daniels talking again.

So here we go.

— Well, not crazy about Jennifer Garner’s black dress. Mourning being married to Ben Affleck, one can only assume.

— Ooh, Anne Hathaway is just a lovely little fawn. I love her red chiffony dress with roses draping across the front. Very Greek goddess.

— Katherine Heigel. Oh. Sweet. Mammy. She is so nervous presenting, but she’s just that much more endearing to me because of it. Also: The gorgeousness, the sheer gorgeousness, of that red dress on her. Look at her teeny tiny waist! And her face, all flush with nerves! Okay, Katherine Heigel. Please exit stage left now so the rest of us schlubs can go on living. Also: call me!

— Amy Adams (Enchanted) is fraykin’ adorable. She has to sing a song from that movie without all her little animated critters to help her. (It’s a song from the beginning, where the movie is animated.) I don’t envy her, because out of that very specific context, it’s a bit … odd, but she’s making it work because she’s unself-consciously committed to the out-of-context moment. Also: I like your nose, Amy Adams, so call me!

— Someone comb Cate Blanchett’s hair! Please, I beg you – someone deliver her crowning baby! I’m momentarily uncomfortable and that simply won’t do!

Sweeney wins Art Direction. Duh.

— Jennifer Hudson to present Best Supporting Actor. Her swollen bosom is swaddled in yards of white draping, is the nicest way I can say it. Javier Bardem is my guess here. Waaaiting …. oh, does anyone else think he — Javier Bardem, with his normal hair — looks like dead Denny Duquette from Grey’s Anatomy? …. just a thought …. ooh, but Tom Wilkinson was so SO good in Michael Clayton. Waiting ….here we go ….. it’s Javier Bardem. Oh, consarnit! Habla ingles, por favor.

— Jon Stewart offers a translation after the commercial. “I believe he told his mother where the library is.”

— Now an “Oscar Salute to Binoculars and Periscopes.” Hahahahahaha!

— Oh, what? A song from that piece of crap August Rush is nominated for Best Song? Did you know Robin Williams played some weird Redbeard Bono in that movie? He did. True dat. Awful true.

— Owen Wilson presenting. You go, dude! I love your nose! Call me! What? No …. no, not for drugs; coffee, sheesh.

— I am zee Frawnch veener of zee Best Live Action Short Feelm. I do not speak zee Eengleesh, so vut Javier Bardem said ony in Frawnch, hokay? Merci beaucoup. Mwa et mwa, mon amies.

— Best Supporting Actress presented by Alan Arkin. Cate Blanchett, I think? She may be busy backstage having her baby. Although I’m crossing my fingers for her getting her priorities straight and combing her damn hair. Ooh, but wait. Amy Ryan in Gone, Baby, Gone. Damn, she was good. Wait again! Changing my mind. Going with Tilda Swinton, actually. Michael Clayton. HA! She got it! Here she comes! Okay. Uhm, she looks exactly like Alfred E. Newman right now. Seriously. But I’m loving her speech. She’s talking about how her agent is the spitting image of the Oscar statuette. “He has the exact shaped head and it must be said … the buttocks.” Hahaha. Now she’s on about George Clooney getting into his batsuit every morning on set, hanging from the ceiling, etc., he’s laughing. Great speech, Alfred E. Newman!

— Jessica Alba’s breasts are molting.

— James McEvoy from Atonement. I could listen to him talk forever. Maybe he’ll call me and we can arrange this posthaste. You know, I have lots of change in a big glass jar, James McEvoy; you could have that, if you just talk. Well, not the quarters. I need those. The dimes and nickels, though, for sure. And pennies. That’s a good deal, James McEvoy, because pennies before 1982 are heavier than they are now and so if you scuff up the sides, the parking meter reads them as quarters. True dat.

Best Adapted Screenplay … hm … I’m saying There Will Be Blood …. wrongo, Peaches. No Country For Old Men.

— Oh, no. Not the president of the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Good. Bathroom break. Cheerio.

— Oh, it’s that whiskey-voiced floosie Miley Cyrus. KA-POW!

— Is there anyone shorter than Kristen Chenoweth? Seriously. She’s a widdle tid. And then that huge singing voice. Oh, she’s singing something from “Enchanted.” Because … why? How? She kicked Amy Adams in the shins backstage and hobbled her?

— Oh, dear. These two people who just won Best Sound Editing – working together, now – cannot come up with a coherent speech. The chick keeps saying, “Oh, I’m blanking” and then the ponytailed dude keeps rescuing her with, “Oh, man, I’m blanking too!” Then they look at each other in horror and you can literally feel the tightening of every butt, everywhere, across the world, even as they speak. It’s a symphony of dreadfulness. You guys rock!

— Wow. Best Actress already. BTW, it’s gonna be Julie Christie, I’ll bet, and I haven’t even seen Away From Her. Just heard everyone rave about it. You know, that movie she’s in about the ‘heimer’s? Can’t quite bring myself to see it. But now … right now … I’m thinking it really could be that chick who played Edith Piaf as a spoiler here. Going with Christie, though. Wow. Spoiler wins. See how my gut wanted to dump Julie Christie like a hot potato just a second ago? Shoulda stuck with that. On the upside for Julie Christie — does she not look scrumptiously beautiful? Day-um.

— Colin Farrell (KA-POW!) introducing a song from Once. Ooh. It’s not substitute singers; it’s the actual people from the actual movie — which you really all must see. Beautiful. Haunting. Okay. I want this song to win. Gossip: These two are – or were – or are – a real life couple. Kind of an age difference here. Not really May-December, but maybe, oh, July-November. He’s 37; she’s 20, pick your own months for it.

— Heeeere’s Jack. You gotta have Jack, dontcha know. The cinematic patriarch of bad boys. A montage of best picture winners here which does nothing but unearth my buried animus for The English Patient. KA-POW!

— Renee Zellweger — with a saucy short haircut and a glittery silver gown — presenting Best Film Editing. Goes to The Bourne Ultimatum.

— Nicole Kidman, all statuesque in black, dripping — quite literally — ropes of diamonds over her ever-swelling pregnancy boobins. You go, girl! Have a country music baby. Much better than a Xenu baby. Oh, she’s presenting an Honorary Oscar to Robert Boyle, who is 98 years old and is sitting at the podium for his speech — which, frankly, is better and more coherent than those two earlier, the composers of the symphony of dreadfulness. See this man, doctors everywhere? He’s a potent argument against DNR, he is. You GO, Father Time!

— Penelope Cruz is here now. Wow. Was she exposed to Jessica Alba backstage? Her bosom is molting too. It’s like some horrible MRSA of molting is going around. These women must be quarantined immediately. I think this is Best Foreign Language Film. Yep. And, look — I dunno who just won. Some foreigner.

— John Travolta. Hairline by Sharpie.

— Okay. Best Song. It’s the song from Once, just as I hoped. Eeeee! Here come our lovers to accept their awards. Oh, his accent. Love him. He just keeps saying “Tanks, tanks, tanks.” You are just precious. Where’s my bag of Werther’s?

— Oh, here’s Cameron Diaz presenting Best “Cinemography,” she says. Sweet Lord. Bring Father Time back out. Please. He speaks better and looks fresher, frankly. There Will Be Blood wins. Eeeee!

— In Memoriam. Always poignant. More so this year. Heath Ledger is shown last. Ugh, still too sad.

— Amy Adams presenting Best Score. There’s just an openness and warmth to her face, a joy to her. I thought the music in There Will Be Blood was weird and wonderful, but it’s not nominated, so why am I talking about it? God only knows why I’m talking about anything at this point. Can Father Time blog the rest of this for me? I am worn to a nub. Oh, Atonement wins here.

— Harrison Ford, Best Original Screenplay. What, none of your famous banter, Harrison Ford? Jeez, what a gyp. Juno wins.

There’s gotta be only two or three left, right? Please God.

— Here’s Helen Mirren presenting Best Actor. Daniel Day-Lewis has to be a shoo-in, doesn’t he? He must. Damn, he was freakin’ amazing. (Oh, but there’s Johnny Depp as Sweeney. ACK! Sentimental attachment there, obviously.) By the way, Helen Mirren looks absolutely smashing. Look at her teeny tiny waist, too! A deep burgundy dress with shimmery lacey silvery sleeves, gorgeous on her. Call me, Queen Elizabeth! Damn. Viggo’s nominated, too. I forgot! Eastern Promises. Oh, he was SO good, scary good. Sorry. I’m all over the map here, remembering how fabulous and rich all these performances were. George Clooney, too. Saw them all except Tommy Lee Jones. But DD-L wins, as predicted. He’s wearing hoop earrings that scream “old church lady,” but I forgive him everything. Now he’s thanking Rebecca Miller — Arthur Miller’s daughter, his wife — and she’s teary and smiling. It’s a sweet moment. Lovely, gracious, short speech. Okay. He just smiles that smile he has and, that’s it, I’m toast — sending him a nice pair of dangly earrings TO-morrow!

— Best Director goes to Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country For Old Men.

— Denzel presenting …. finally …. Best Picture. It goes to No Country For Old Men.

Are we done? I think we’re done!

PHEW. Clocking in — by my watch — at 3 hours, 21 minutes. My nubs are even nubbier.

Congratulations to all the winners!

-image-for sarahk

‘Member in the breakfast survey post where I admitted I took non-dairy creamer in my coffee because it keeps the coffee hot longer? Teeny clarification: I use powdered creamer. ‘S true, sarahk! It’s totally unglamorous, but it does keep the coffee hot longer.

FAScinating, no??

Tell us more, Mrs. Coffee!

February 23, 2008

-image-high school horrors, junior year

So I stumbled across my junior year yearbook today.

Well, that is, if stumbling involves saying to your beloved out of the blue, “Hm. Wonder where my junior yearbook is?” and schlumping up the stairs, then rummaging in a closet and dragging out box after dusty box of mortifying personal ephemera, then yes, I totally stumbled across my junior year yearbook today.

Right off the bat, I feel I must confess that I was on this yearbook staff and I don’t say that to brag. Au contraire, pippa. I say that only because it means in some part, I share culpability for the cover, which will forever and always look like this:


You’d think such a brazen hussy orange might have faded a bit over time, but, nope. Still the same shade as the day I got it 173 years ago.

Now our yearbook was called “Ragnarok,” which means “Hark ye, Norsemen! Yonder approaches giant orange flame ball to engulf our plastic Viking ship and lead us to an initially fiery — then increasingly watery — grave!” I also heard it meant “the end of the beginning” or “the beginning of the end” or some such blather. Both of which seem right somehow, no matter where you went to high school. So we were the Norsemen. The mighty-mighty, black-and-orange Norsemen. Please picture, if you will, our despised and despicable football team in this precise shade of orange. Then picture, if you please, our water polo team — our county-wide championship water polo team — in their choking orange Speedos. Just the color I want to see cradling all that is manly.

Here I am, on the right, posing for the yearbook staff page with some other chicks whose names escape me, so let’s just call them Becky and Bonnie. What doesn’t escape me now, and didn’t then, is the fact that it was clearly striped-turtleneck-and-tight-vest day and those beyotches, Becky and Bonnie, did not bother to mention that to moi. Sadly, since I was not informed of STATV Day, I was left to my own feeble sartorial devices. Which is not a good thing. Because — and I certainly can’t deny it in the face of photograhic proof — I obviously got up that morning, the morning of secret STATV Day, went to my closet, channeled my inner Armani, and said, “Hmm. I’m feeling a sort of preppy ski bunny vibe with a twist of Gene Simmons today!!”

Oh. Yeah.

And here’s an artist rendering of my Gene Simmons superboots with the man-eating heel, in case you can’t really see them:


Believe me. The man-eating, chew-you-up nature of my boot heels cannot be overstated. Totally practical for preppy ski bunny man-eaters like me. Good, too, for scraping paint.

So let’s review. Becky and Bonnie had called each other the night before and squealed, “Eeeeee! Striped turtlenecks! Tight vests! Don’t tell that other chick, ‘kay? ‘Kay! Eeeeee!” Or maybe it wasn’t “Eeeeee”; maybe it was “oooooh” or “wooooo” or “hahahahaha.” Well, it’s a theory, anyway. Whatevs. It all boils down to this: Those beyotches, Becky and Bonnie, were good to go with their secret sartorial scheme. I, on the other hand, on the outs and clueless, strutted from my house that morning, ready to, you know, rock ‘n’ roll all nite and party ev-er-y day.

That is, if you replace “rock ‘n’ roll” with “ski ‘n’ ski” and “party” with “study.”

At school, when I discovered Becky and Bonnie’s secret sartorial scheme, I felt a lot less strutty about pretty much everything in general. When the moment came to take the photo, Becky and Bonnie pushed their way front and center in their coordinated STATVs. I fell back, put on a game smile, and tried to hide my Gene Simmons superboots behind the bike.

But I still secretly loved them.

I wish I still had them.

My Gene Simmons superboots with the man-eating heel.


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