Friday, June 24, 2011

What I have learned from RuPaul's Drag Race

The big thing that makes me laugh about the current obsession with the super-platform shoes is that they always make me think one thing – drag queen. Cause really, the whole heel thing has gotten out of hand (foot?). Go back and look at pictures from the 80s at what you thought were slutty hooker heels on Tawny Kitaen or Lita Ford. 2-inches. Maybe 2 ½. Now a 5-inch heel is being sold at Payless. You don’t even have to go down the stripper store any more.

And here’s the thing, on drag queens, there’s a reason for the big heels. They have big feet. You put an inch high kitten heel on a size 12, and it’s just not going to look right. Not that they usually need the leg lengthening that you get from a heel (darn them and their low body fat), but a six-foot tall “dame” needs a shoe that’s in proportion.

Also, drag queens are performers. They wear those shoes when they are in drag and working. And sometimes that’s for a 4-minute lip synch to “Single Ladies”. Then they’re backstage sitting down like a sensible person. Yes, a good queen can strut and be fierce in a pair of killer heels. But they usually have the sense not to try wearing them to the Piggly Wiggly. When the wig comes off, so do the heels. It seems to be only women who don’t have the sense not to wear those ankle-breakers all day. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen some girl working it in to work on 4-inch stilettos and hobbling out the door at the end of the day.

The ladies could take a tip from the lady-boys on this one. All that fierceness? It’s drag, honey. Save the triple-platform, peep toe, stiletto, sky-high shoe for the moment you are in the spotlight. And save your feet with a pair of flats for real life.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

5 Reasons Why a 35 Year Age Difference Can Work in a Marriage:

  1. You're a Medieval lord and she's good breeding stock
  2. One of you was born on February 29
  3. One of you has recently undergone a long space journey and experienced gravitational time dilation (Shout out to OG, Albert Einstein! Special relativity, yo!)
  4. You're first cousins and the age difference is really not the grossest thing about it
  5. You're Jerry Lee Lewis - oh, wait. That' didn't work either. Strike that. You're Woody Allen! Cross-reference to number 4.

Hate is a strong word

I was talking with friends this weekend, and somehow the topic of hating people had come up. And there was one friend, there’s always one, who said that they don’t “hate” people. Hate’s a negative emotion, doesn’t do you any good, gets in the way of understanding, only hurting yourself in the end. Okay, sure. I buy that. I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum. There is one person who has been in my life who I hate, to this day. Hate. To the point where it would make me happy to hear that he’s dead. And died painfully. Doesn’t make me proud. But it’s nonetheless and absolute truth.

This is a person who is intelligent. Sensitive in the sense that he is well able to understand others’ emotions. Healthy and able to support himself in an adequate to better-than-adequate manner. Empirically speaking, good looking. Charming to the unwary. And he is an absolute waste of skin. He breeds hate and discontent wherever he goes. Manipulates with glee. Is hurtful to others. And for no real reason other than it seems to make him chuckle.

He’s not Grand Wizard of the KKK evil. He’s just plain evil. Not destructive on a regional scale. Just destructive to anyone who might come in contact with him. I have been driving in a parking lot and seen him walking. The idea that a tap of the gas pedal, while not the right thing to do and not something that would happen, could rid the world of this scourge – well, it did bring me a small amount of hope. I actually believe it’s a moral imperative to hate someone this evil.

Yes, I know that I should release this hate. Surrender it to the universe with the knowledge that he had a horrible childhood, or a damaged brain, or was cursed by an evil fairy at birth. Could even be demon possession for all I know. To be honest, I don’t get up every morning and wish him ill. This weekend was probably the first time I’ve thought of him in years. But if you ask me if I hate anyone, this is the name that leaps to mind. The only name that leaps to mind, for that matter. I wouldn’t kill him. I would do whatever in my power to stop someone else from killing him.

But I would still be happy to hear that he was dead.

TIME: Quotes of the Day