A Vagina Monologue

Last night I saw a vagina on the Travel Channel. Straight up. VA...




I should clarify. It wasn't, like, on display or anything. It wasn't the focal point. It was just this naked-ass Indian lady who, by merit of being totally nude, happened to have visible lady bits. Somewhat jarring, but I got over it pretty quickly. And I get the whole National Geographic nudity clause, where indigenous tribes get a nudity pass because it's non-sexual and cultural and whatnot. Cool. I'm down. But I would like to argue that those standards should be applied to other peoples who have a culture of nudity. Specifically, I think these rules should apply to strippers and stripper-y ladies who go on reality shows in search of love. Or money. Or whatever. The kind of women who, when asked to "dress to impress", show up looking like this:



I watch a lot of VH1 reality programming, and I can tell you from experience, the nudity on these shows (which is always blurred, if not black-barred) is very rarely sexual. Usually, it is simply what has come to be known as a wardrobe malfunction. If you wear something that barely covers your nipples, at some point it will fail to do even that. Thusly:



See?! She's just wrappin' up some cords, and bam! Tit overboard. Non-sexual nudity.

What's more important, though, is that these women come from a nude culture, by which I mean they are strippers. Nudity is what they know. It is their way of life, and should not be blurred out.



They're just people, doing what they do, the way they customarily do it. Which is naked.



I just don't see the difference. Do you?

Okay, dudes. The election is over and I don't know what to do. For the last few months I have immersed myself in political news for up to five hours a day, which was not the healthiest behavior, but God, was it fun. But it's over! Barack Obama is President-Elect of the Galaxy, Joey Buttons is busy getting his mane refurbished for Inauguration Day, Sarah Palin took her kooky ass back to the tundra, and Walnuts McCain was last seen yelling at kids to get off his lawn somewhere in Real America. Ugh, I miss the campaign already.

I need a hobby!! I've been working on a list of possible ways to spend my time. Here's what I've got so far:

1. Charcuterie

Have I ever told you how much I love cured meats? If it wasn't so expensive, I would snack on salami slices like chips. My Death Row meal would be prosciutto lasagna. One time I saw David Allen Grier on the Martha Stewart Show talking about how he made his own prosciutto. It was inspiring. I think it's time I got around to curin' some meats!!

Culinary Communion in Beacon Hill has a monthly 5-hour class that just might fit the bill. They have a bunch of other classes that sound great, like Handmade Pasta, Stocks and Sauces, and Truffles (oh my god yes).

2.Let's Learn Spanish!!



When I was eight, me and my mom lived in Mexico City for 6 months. I arrived fluent in swear words (thanks Grandma!), but unable to speak the language in any functional way. I left straight-up fluent, but I was so mad at Mexico that I refused to speak Spanish once we got back to the states, and I lost the language completely. I think it's time to forgive (I already forgot) and relearn the language of my people (on Mom's side). Or not. Now that I think about it, it sounds kind of boring.

3. Getting Wonky With It



I've decided to keep my head in the game and stay up to date on policy. I probably would have been doing a better job of this all along had I not been suffering through an administration that made me want to stab myself in the head for the last eight years. I'm looking forward to getting really dorky about it, now that I won't be distracted by skyrocketing blood pressure every time I try to read up on politics. But I will also try to moderate my intake.

4. Health-Nuttery


This one is kind of a challenge for me, since I am allergic to raw fruits and vegetables. No, really. So I have to get really creative to eat healthy, and I have to count on a lot of supplements. Fortunately, shopping for supplements is my idea of a good time. The more expensive and frivolous, the better. Maybe I'll start drinking Borba Skin Care Water. That sounds fun. But I draw the line at actually working out.

Is there anything else I should consider? What do you do for fun? I really want to know.

International Male

I was talking to my buddy Keehnan yesterday about the Spaniards' Lisp (I like how I made that sound like Terrifying and Contagious disease. "Next on 20/20, The Spaniards' Lisp! It may already be in a household NEAR YOU!!"). Do you know what I'm talking about though? Spaniards pronounce their "sssss" sound more like a "thhhhh" sound. It really bothers me. I bought some "Learn Spanish!" tapes at a garage sale last year, but I can't use them because they're all, "Repeat after me. Me llamo Thilvio! Thoy de Barrrrthelona!!" And I can't repeat after him, because I am too busy laughing.



Anyway, we were talking about this, and we got to wondering, do gay Spaniards lisp extra hard? Or do they lisp the same as straight Spaniards? Also, do gay French men lisp? What about Russians? Or Somalians? Or Guamanians? Is the lisp of the stereotypical flamboyantly gay man universal, or is it indigenous to English speakers? Wikipedia is not helping. As Keehnan said, "That article is a stub-ass stub."

I am so curious, but I don't know how to get answers without offending anyone. So, my well-traveled readers, I ask you. Do you happen to know of any non-English speaking sterotypically flamboyant homosexual men who do/do not lisp in their native tongue? Or perhaps you have heard of some study about this that I may now Google?

I Love a Man in Uniform?

I don't know what the hell is going on, but Seattle seems to be filled with highly attractive men who happen to be wearing uniforms. I first started noticing this when I was working at the War Room. Due to the newness of the club and it's quick popularity, we received nearly weekly visits from the fire department. The first time I looked up to see a pair of fire fighters who appeared to have stepped off the pages of a charity calendar, I wrote it off as a fluke. But it kept happening. Over and over again. And then I started noticing hot cops all over the place!! And UPS guys!!!


So, I have a couple theories about this.

1. Fire fighting and package delivery are very physical, outdoorsy occupations, so of course those dudes are in great physical shape. But that doesn't explain the whole chiseled jaw, dreamy eyes factor.

2. In this uncertain, Post-9/11 world, I crave security, and as a result have begun to romanticize Protectors. But that doesn't explain the UPS guys.



(so nurturing.)

3. Perhaps I have always had a latent uniform fetish lurking in the recesses of my psyche, but have only recently been exposed to enough uniformed men to realize it. If fetishes are genetic, this one is probably it, as my mom is totally gross about Men In Uniform.

4. David Beckham



I don't actually have anything to say about this one. Just, umm, wow.

Seriously, guys, have you noticed this too, or is it just me? Also, those of you who are not in Seattle, is this happening where you are? Get back to me on this.

A Mystery is Afoot

Someone shoved a pair of underpants into my mailbox.

Panties, colloquially. Red and pink striped Victoria's Secret panties, size small, specifically. I have composed a list of suspects.

1. The Goth Girl in Apt. 8: Last week, me and my buddy/neighbor Alex were smoking on the balcony when Gothy McSoulisdark forced herself into our conversation. For 20 damn minutes. She was boring and not funny and she wouldn't go away. A couple days later, Alex and I were playing Turner Classic Movies Scene It in Alex's apartment with the windows and shades open. Alex got this clue: "What 1969 movie had the tagline, "One man went looking for America. He never found it." It was Easy Rider, but she wasn't getting it, so to give her a clue I went into the whole "Yip-yip-yip-yip-yip-yip!!!!! Indians." thing (if you don't know what I'm talking about, rent Easy Rider. It's the best damn part of the whole movie). That exact moment, Gothy came out of her place, and hearing my "yip-yip" routine said, and I quote, "What is that, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on crack?!" That, my friends, is not only demonstrative of how not funny she is, it basically amounts to word salad. Then, as her first bout of verbal diarrhea garnered no response from us, she tried again. "Xena Warrior Princess!" We continued to ignore her. The next day she came outside while I was smoking alone. We did not speak.


Could it be an act of vengeful mischief?

2. The Australian: A couple months ago, the Australian called me a stupid bitch for drunkenly blasting Aerosmith at 7am. Is she still mad?


3. Alex: She says she didn't do it, but this kind of seems like the work of a buddy. And look at her! Those eyes are full of mischief!!


4. My husband, Landon: He was the one that "found" the offending underpants.


Seems shifty to me.

5. Caralee McElroy: I can't see any reason why not, and I would like to hear her alibi.


I would love to hear your thoughts on the suspects. Tampering with the mail is a Federal offense!