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Sex on the Shore for the
Summer (Column 1)
 by -The Professor
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Sunday, June 04, 2006 I'm no Sarah Jessica Parker. My legs aren't as long, my nose isn't quite as obvious, my hair isn't as straggly and my shape isn't so perfect. It doesn't matter, though, because I'm still a young woman just like her having to live my life with the opposite sex. Aspiring to be that "talk of the town" sex columnist, Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, I write this column. As I live day-to-day in a reality that's tinted with fantastical elements, I still think that I'll be swept off my feet by a tall, dark handsome stockbroker who wears a white-collared Versace shirt that is too tight. His cut arms would be visible and his huge hands would fit perfectly into mine. He'd call me his "little goddess" and then we'd maneuver into the bubbling jacuzzi and THEN I WOKE UP. I don't think that my graphic daydreams are peculiar. We all do it, especially if we're young, single women. We're all alike in some way. Whether it's purchasing the newest three-click wonder bra, charging it to our Platinum Visa card, flirting with teaching assistants, drawing up a 500-person wedding guest list or gossiping about our newest flavor of the week, we're always up to something. Our brains are always working overtime and our mouths are always moving. Exchanging sex tips and personal measurements on a Saturday afternoon is common. Nothing is better for a hangover than discussing juicy details about the bedmate we had the night before and letting our cronies rag on us. He's either Mr. Big or Mr. Tic Tac. He's either Stubby or Longfellow. Lastly, he's either circumcised or not. Believe me, we've seen it all. So, who exactly is that special guy you shared your bed and body with last night? He can be labeled as one of the following: boyfriend, friend with benefits or the elephant boy. If your nights are spent with a boyfriend that you've been with for two years, then you are that down to earth girl who always needs someone. Maybe you're somewhat independent, but all in all, you need to feel loved, wanted, and content 24 hours seven days a week. I guess that's great if you like having the same meal every night for dinner. To each his own, right? If you snuggle between the sheets every other weekend with that guy friend you met in college years ago, then you've got it made. Only smart girls leave their options open at all times. Having your cake and eating it too is the way to go. No strings attached. Whether you need help with changing your car's oil or a helping hand to fulfill your sexual frustrations, he'll always be there for you. If your lover boy from last night doesn't fit into any of the above categories, then he has to be the elephant boy that you rubbed up against while running to do your third keg stand. Elephant boy doesn't have a name and he has only been privileged enough to see the confines of your bedroom once. If he's the one you had to wake up next to, - I'm sorry. Being a sloppy and horny drunk has implications that we've all experienced. We've all spent the night with these three kinds of bed partners. C'mon, we are chicks; we attract them all. Our life is an ongoing saga, a never-ending appointment. Whether it's a wax appointment, nail appointment, hair appointment or tanning appointment, we're always making appointments. While we spend most of our days taking care of these beauty requirements, we spend our nights playing games. Why? Because it's our nature, that's why. Throwing back our shiny, highlighted hair and wearing low V-neck fitted T-shirts is mandatory. We make sure our lips are glossy and curled around a zippie straw that happens to be submerged in an alcoholic beverage, preferably a Long Island Iced Tea. After making eye contact, the fun begins. Tease. Tease. Tease. Not like we want any of these guys for the summer. They're mostly little boys wanting to score, trying to buy us dinner with daddy's bills. Maybe they'll reach manhood when they are 40 years-old, if that. Life goes on and I'll keep on searching for that career-oriented man (stockbroker) with big hands, a big heart and big wallet. Until then, my body pillow will have to do. |
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We have been taping here and there, deciding to just do a summer tailgating movie... Too much work doing a show at each tailgate, it was crushing the funtimes.
September 5th Marisa and Buck are on FEAR FACTOR.... 8pm @ bar a for fear factoe party... All the TVs, drink specials... just for fun this is Marisa's due date for her gleny love child.. so it is really a good time!
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Life Gone Kra-Z 1.5
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Well thank Goddess that month is over, eh my freaky darlings? My Beautiful Baby is back in her boy's arms, and Life is returning to [normal]. During one of our many conversations about her Bag o' Douche ex, my girlfriend told me that one of his self-appointed jobs was to keep her up on what was Cool in Japan. When traveling, he would bring her back all these little trinkets and $100 pieces-of-nothings which were Très Cool in Tokyo Town. If it was Cool over there, eventually it would be Cool Stateside. Interesting theory proven true in some rare cases (God, I wish I still had a Tamagotchi to starve to death, over and over again), but otherwise, it's just silly. How much of a slave to Cool do you have to be to spend $100 on a piece of jewelry for your cell phone because 14-year-olds half a world away think they're "the bomb"? … or whatever the kids are saying these days. Honestly, What is Cool? Is there anyone or anything that is Forever Cool? Universally, infinitely Cool? Fonzie, maybe. James Dean, Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack, definitely. Anyone looking at those guys has to concede Coolness. The one thing all those guys had in common was Irreverence. For those of you not keen on your SAT words, it means an utter disregard for authority and social norms. More importantly, and more relevant to this diatribe, if a disregard for the social norm is what's Cool, why do so many people try SO hard to fit in? I can guarantee that Jimmy Dean and The Chairman didn't give a shit what you thought about them, or if they were Cool. They didn't TRY, they just were. The very TOP of the list of what's UnCool is TRYING to be Cool. We can all agree that you're either Cool, or you're not, and TRYING is the quickest way down the waterslide to the Piss-filled Pool of UnCool. But that didn't stop you from buying a trucker hat, did it? At one point, a few of you would've punched babies to get your hands on ANYTHING with a real Von Dutch patch on it. FYI, right now you can get Von Dutch trucker hats on eBay for $10. Run, monkeys, run. I see it every night here in Vegas, busloads of people trying to be Cool. Long lines of people who spent a lot of money in stores and a lot of time that night, working to be Cool, to be Special, to get laid, get in the club, or get free drinks. And they all end up looking exactly the same: Desperate. I can tell you exactly what Desperate looks like in Vegas on a Saturday night: shoes pulled off any Perry Ellis model; jeans cost $150 (but look like they cost $15 at Goodwill); the shirt is light and long sleeved, button down, untucked, and size Smedium (wearing a Small when they should be wearing Medium); the hair is pulled up into a Faux-Hawk (the 06 version of the Mullet: business by day, party by night); and it's topped off a pair of semi-reflective sunglasses that a: cost more than my iPod, b: should never actually be worn in direct sunlight. Bonus points for having only one tribal tattoo, placed somewhere visible. And women… well, we all know what desperate women look like. If you don't, you probably are one. That's the de-facto uniform of "Cool" in Vegas, much the way dirty boots, dirty jeans, dirty tees, dirty hair under dirty hats, and dirty flannels tied around your waist was in the early 90's. If you just shivered because I just described your once-wardrobe, welcome to my world. While you're here, let's go back even further to parochial/prep school. How very UnCool was it to wear a Uniform and look like everyone else? Even as kids we knew that Truth. So when did we decide to work SO hard to look like everyone else, to wear the uniform glasses and jeans? Newsflash: those glasses and jeans don't make you Cool. NOTHING you can buy can make you Cool. If you can buy it, so can I. So can the little retarded girl in the helmet, drooling on her new Motorola V3i Gold Limited Edition Dolce & Gabbana Phone. That phone might be gold, and might be stamped with D&G, and might have every Cool feature you drool over… but that girl isn't Cool just because she has one, and neither are you. It only means that you have more money than the rest of us (or that you're willing to spend what little money you have on the anything that might impress). Desperation isn't Cool; either is simply having money. So what IS Cool? First, as the song said, it's Cool to be Kind. You win $1500 playing video poker at the bar and buy the other 10 people in the bar a round of drinks? That's Cool. My being able to walk up to the club I worked at and get in sans-cover or wait in line, doesn't make me Cool. But my walking up to a host I don't know, at a club I don't frequent, risking the embarrassment of not being Special, so that my out-of-town friends can save money and time and feel a bit Special… and pulling it off? They all thought that was pretty Cool. Finally, Cool is Cool. Not rushing to be the first, not trying to be Cool, not being desperate or demanding to be separate OR included, not caring what's on the cover of magazines, who's in the VIP room, or what kind of hair gel Paris Hilton's third dog uses. It's about you. Still confused, try this exercise. Say "Fuck you, Kra-Z. Fuck you and everything you wrote, because *I'm* going to decide what's Cool and what's not. Not other people, and definitely not you." Now, THAT'S Cool.
… Kra-Z is an Artist. 'Nuff said. He lives and plays in Las Vegas, but his heart is still on stage at the Jersey Shore. See his work @ |
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