Friday, June 25, 2010

I Need Your Help!

Ok, so I haven't been on here in a while. Busy with graduations, travelling, work, and a secret project (or two). But I'm here today because I NEED YOUR HELP! Even if you don't follow me, but have read my blog (which means YOU SHOULD be following me) -- even if you don't want to leave on comment on here, leave it on Facebook. I'm submitting an application to be a writer among many for a new blog community (and will hopefully finally be putting that rather expensive degree in creative writing to good use). This is where you come in. I need to submit a few writing samples and so I need your suggestions. Top 3. Ok, Go!

And Thanks!

Guilty Pleasure #1 (I assure you, there are many, but a girl has to keep something for herself!)

Alright, so the girls and I have a dirty secret, a guilty pleasure. Once a week, we gather around my computer, glass of red wine in hand, and indulge in our favorite TV show: Satisfaction. Never heard of it? That’s probably because it’s an Aussie show available to us yanks only through Netflix. It’s about a group of beautiful young women going through all sorts of trials in their lives: a young girl desperately yearning for human connection, a single mom sending her teenage daughter to boarding school, a lonely lesbian who recently lost her baby, a snobby sex kitten who’s about to snap, and a middle-aged housewife whose husband ran off to America with his secretary, taking their two children with him. Oh and there’s Natalie, the power hungry manager with a fetish for plastic. Yes, I said fetish. The one thing these women all have in common? They’re all prostitutes, or sex workers as the Aussie’s would say. What – I told you it was a guilty pleasure!
This show is absolutely addicting. Sex and the City minus the fashion plus some creative costumes and odd props (some we can’t even begin to imagine what they’d be used for). 232, the brothel where the girls work, is a gorgeous establishment with beds dressed in satin sheets and closets stalked with expensive lingerie. The girls live in beach front penthouses and have all the top notch clothes you could imagine. It certainly shows prostitution in a whole another light opposed to what Americans have come to think of it as.
The roommates and I love it because it gives us a delicious taste of something forbidden; it quells that little rebellious voice in all of us, yet it’s perfectly harmless. We’re experiencing the faux pas life of a prostitute without actually experiencing it. Plus, it’s absolutely terrific writing. The girls experience real life dilemmas and they find genuine support with one another. Enticing? Grab a glass and sign onto Netflix – we’re sure you’ll have a real good time.

*WARNING: Due to the nature of the show, there is some pretty graphic nudity. But we’re all adults, right?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Line Dancing

Too... Much...Fun!

Friday, June 4, 2010

Tonight's The Night

Well, it’s been years since I’ve done it. To say I’m rusty, would be an understatement. I’ve been preparing for it all week: extra walking for Gamble, struggling through the Brazil Butt Lift 5 minute workout, listening to Luke Bryan radio on Pandora, and smothering my legs with self-tanner. Chattahooche has become my theme song, constantly playing in the back of my mind; giving me the strength to continue my training like Eye of the Tiger does for Rocky. I’ll admit I’ve youtubed instructional videos. But tonight’s the night – the total culmination of all my week's hard work.

Tonight, a few of my favorite girls will come over and will gorge ourselves on Nachos. Tonight, we will create an ultimate playlist in preparation for our hour long ride to the lesser known city of Bremerton. Tonight, we'll put on short jean skirts and pull on our cowboy boots, our dancing shoes. Tonight, in the words of Alan Jackson, we’re “Gone Country.” Tonight, these city slickers will be line dancing.

And what a night it will be! Maybe I’ll even find one of these?

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Bus Chronicles 4: Photoshoot

Every morning of every weekday I wait for the bus. I usually see the same people. We don’t say much. We don’t even look at each other, really. I approach the stop, sit down, grab my book and read, barely noting the existence of the others. It’s not just me, it’s a trend here.

At least, I tend to notice the others. There’s the Japanese? man who reads hieroglyphic books, the writing goes top to bottom instead of left to right; the bigger girl who ALWAYS wears some sort of mini skirt and cheap top: today’s outfit included a faded hot pink athletic skirt paired with a black Hawaiian print halter; the blind gal with her super cute yellow lab guide dog; and the round George Costanza like man with circle glasses, fuzz-lined crocs and an African print pillbox hat. We get on at the same stop.

On a day not unlike any other, sitting at the bus stop, reading my book, Mr. Costanza decides to interrupt my routine.

“Uh excuse me,” he says as shy as I’m sure you’re imagining, “I’m a photographer and I’d really like to take your picture sometime.”

Great. Conflict in my brain first thing in the morning.

My head is saying “Uhh NO! Don’t you remember reading about that rapist/murder in the paper the other day? What was his name: Rodney Alcala? Didn’t he take pictures of his victims first?”

But then my heart chimes in: “Aw the poor guy. He’s obviously nervous… must have had to gather some courage just to ask you. You gonna ruin his day by shooting him down? What excuse do you have? ‘No thanks, Rodney Alcala was a photographer too and he killed his subjects?’”

He leans over and smiles at me, handing me his makeshift business card.

“Uh sure. Maybe sometime." I finally answer. "I’m gonna be out of town quite a bit in the next few weeks graduation season and all but maybe after I get back?” Knowing full well I’ll be moving once I get back in a matter of weeks.

“Oh ya that sounds great. I want to wait for the weather to get better anyways. I usually do all my shoots at the library.”

So far, so good. I haven’t seen the fella again. I’ve been taking the earlier bus. But if all else fails, at least the library is a public place?