Miller Lite: Better than 72 virgins

Not that I think I'll be getting into heaven (which generally doesn't concern me as I don't think many of my friends would be there either and I bet the parties are cooler in hell), but I think/hope it might be like this:

A Cinderella Story

I'm currently watching Pretty Woman on TBS (they always know what I want to watch, I swear they're mind readers), and it got me to thinking. When I was a kid, I used to want to be Vivian (Julia Roberts' character, in case you haven't seen it in a while). Like, we used to compete over who was allowed to name their Barbie Vivian, until one of us got a red-headed Barbie and got to keep the bragging rights forever. I know - great story. If you have time, I'll tell it again. Irregardless, Gary Marshall did something magical with this movie. He was able to convince millions of young girls (I know I wasn't alone in this) that even if they actually became a hooker in Hollywood with cracked out friends, a rich and successful man (with a midgety, boorish friend), would come and rescue them, literally on a white horse. Plus, I wanted the clothes. The dress she wears to watch the polo match I'd still buy and wear in a heartbeat. With the hat, natch.
Sorry, I couldn't quickly find a full length picture that had the dress, as I'm lazy and didn't look very hard. But this should trigger a memory of the dress and it's fabulosity. Oh, I also love this movie because it reminds me of how fuckable Richard Gere is, despite the whole gerbil rumor. He was a hottie back in the day! (ok, ok, I'd still do him) Also, I think it might have introduced the idea that if you aren't being kissed (on the mouth) during sex, your partner might be thinking that you are a prostitute. Ok, well probably not literally. Is it universally true that prostitutes refuse to kiss on the mouth? My limited experience in the field (i.e., watching Pretty Woman) says yes, but I'm guessing that's probably not true. And on the other end of the spectrum, I've had sex without kissing, and I know I'm not a prostitute. So there!

Point is, I pretty much cannot come across this movie on tv without watching it all the way through. Just like Clueless, and a few others.

Second chances

So I was just reading about Ashton's first time (don't ask why), and I got this gem: “I was 15. It was out in the woods with a girl I had just met who my buddy set me up with. The whole thing lasted two seconds. It was really awkward. Two years later I had sex with her again just to show her the first performance was a fluke and I’d gotten better.”

So that got me to thinking. Anybody who knows me knows that I wasn't 15 for my first time. I'm actually a little proud of the fact that I held on to my V-Card all the way up until college. Month 2. Point being, I remember it being ... well ... not good. Not horrifically bad or anything, but nothing I'd write home about (assuming I would write letters home detailing my sexual exploits). Would I want to do it again to prove that I could do better? Would he? I can tell you right now that if I saw him on the street, I'd just keep right on walking and likely wouldn't even stop to say hello (don't feel bad for him, it wasn't his first time). I'm pretty sure he wouldn't stop either (although I do look better than I did then). I think that answers that - I have no desire to show him what I've learned in the intervening years.

However, there was this one really bad awkward kiss back when I was 13. Cutest boy in my grade - the one that got away. I'd do that over in a heartbeat. You, know, if his wife didn't mind.

Oh, and btw - this picture really has nothing to do with the above. I just like men in cowboy hats. As I like to say, "save a horse, ride a cowboy."

Here goes nothing

So. In an attempt to keep myself from filling out Myspace surveys on a daily basis, I decided that maybe I should put my skills to use elsewhere. And hey, everyone's blogging - I can too! So far, this is all more daunting than I really expected. For starters, I'm kind of computer illiterate. I mean, I have a Myspace profile, and it even has pictures and surveys on it, and a colored background...once I even managed to post a glittery item on another page. Beyond that - it's like I'm stuck back in 1998 and everyone's discovering ICQ and I'm only mastering AIM on AOL (and proud of it, mind you!).

From what little thought I've put into this blog thus far, I think I'll spend most of my time writing about random things that happen to me, how much I hate people and things that happen near me, items I stumble across online, and maybe things I would buy if I had money. At some point, you, my faithful reader(s?) will "discover" that I am mean, shallow, judgmental, impatient, and possibly hateful. But, in case I haven't told you yet, I already know I'm going to hell. I figure there's a special place/level just for me, and I've got my handbasket all picked out. I'm even decorating it. I'm thinking cashmere on the inside, and a hand-knit cozy on the outside. Any thoughts on a color scheme?