Wednesday, January 17, 2007
What Becomes A Legend Most
I love the old Blackglama ads, especially the one with a very beat-up looking Lillian Hellman in her later years, the caption reading, What becomes a legend most . . . I like a face with character, except when it is mine, and then I like it to look as if has never been friends with the sun. Of course, it has been intimate with that evil force, good friends, Crisco/baby oil/ suntan oil SPF 0 friends with the sun, and now I stay inside and beg God to spare me the sins of my youth. Or as Joan Rivers said about the great picture of Lillian, It's majestic and powerful and all, but would it have killed her to use a little moisturizer? One of my least favorite people in the entire world used to be friends with my mother and now has lunch with my sister from time to time. This woman is in her late seventies, has a face cracked like the dirt of west Texas and attends all the senior citizen dances where she requests songs like "Pussy Control" and proceeds to do a pseudo-pole dance at whatever VFW Hall is hosting. This would be reason enough to like her, but she has many bad qualities that offset this brash display of confidence including but not limited to having very loud opinions and once telling me that I needed to pull my head out of my ass and wear something that would make me look good for a change. I had the dubious privilege of seeing her perform her dance in the parking lot of Pulidos, a Mexican restaurant in beautiful Mineral Wells, Texas in the middle of one warm afternoon. Turn up the radio, Beth, she yelled. I want to show the world what I got!
I can't say I enjoyed the parking lot dance, but she did, and man I knew she had something that no amount of face cream could impart, that joie de vivre, a confidence that exceeded all understanding. She should be thinking about getting into heaven, my sister said, laughing hysterically. Or knitting. She should be home moisturizing is what I was thinking, but an entire vat of Oil of Olay would have been filed under the catagory of too little, too late. Even so I'd give anything for a drop of that utter lack of concern for what other people think. She kept getting kicked out of the senior dances for obscene behavior, raising hell. I guess that's one way to create a legend.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Men always want to protect me. From what, I have no idea." Mae West
Drinking movie suggestion: Office Space
Benedictions and Maledictions
Again, the fur used in this picture is not real! No bunnies or any other animals were harmed. And congratulations to Chris Webber, the newest Detroit Piston! Welcome back, Chris!