Tuesday, December 20, 2005

WTF of the month

And ugly girls are great for a party!

That is, according to Curtis Sittenfiled, author of "Prep," visionary (albeit, they're ugly visions), and brunette and educated menace to attracive society.

"...I'd never dislike a beautiful woman on sight -- I always try to give her the benefit of the doubt and imagine that she has the personality of a nonbeautiful woman."

I just read an article in the April 2005 Allure (while i was searching for a "Got Milk" ad for our mag) wherein Curtis "Roman Nose" Sittenfeld, rather than getting over it, decides that because when she was 14, she was ugly , and hence way more awesome than those who were not beaten with the ugly/Count Chocula nose stick.

The thesis of the article is: if you were ever beautiful without having to suffer being ugly(especially when you were a teenager), I do not want to hang out with you.

Calling all once-ugly, now marginally pretty girls who have yet to get over your ugly past! We want you, and your neuroses, at our next party!

Who doesn't love a girl who's constantly haunted by the shadows of her former bad-skinned and tooth-braced self? I know I just loooove that girl.

Curtis talks about how she loooooves hanging around people who are constantly compensating for their ugly days, but essentially states and non-states that, "Converseley...conventionally beautiful girls and women are, as often as not, kind of bland.

Here's why: because they can be."

*As often as not. +1+(-1) = 0, by the way.*

Ok, fine.
I won't contest that hey, girls who have been pretty all their lives are probably going to be more boring because they are pretty, and don't have to get people - who would otherwise not want to be seen with them - to pay them some attention.

Nor will I contest that I, too, had a creepy mop-head, braces, and unplucked eyebrows moment in time - but only very breifly. As to the after affects of my brief stay inHotel Awkward? Life-defining and personality-enhancing it was NOT.

She makes some good points about teenage plastic surgery - duly noted, Curtis. I too watch Dr. 90210 and hate the girls who get tummy tucks so they can fit into the latest Juicy denim, and think, cello, what is that mother thinking.

All that being said, havn't we ladies seeme to have reached some point today where it's not OK - and not encouraged to such extent, even - to hate on the pretty ones?

Damn you Curtis, you smartie, woodsy girl!

Smart and woodsy are actually quite mutually exclusive. I can attest to this.
Put me in the woods with a Calculus proof.

Smart as I was/am, I didn't want to wear a patagonia jacket in middle school, and I do not want one now, and I would not wish that form-follows-function nightmare on my 13 year old cousin, save on a hike in the woods (when it would be useful).

Though I do wish her intelligence and wit, I would be lying if I did not say I also wish for her ability to creatively coordinate her purse and shoes and to throw together a mean party outfit.

Wearing heels in the woods = really dumb. (unless you're trying to pick up a rakish amateur astronomer a la Jennifer Love Hewitt in the great movie-that-should-be-a-musical, Heartbreakers)
But saying you can't wear heels elsewhere just because you're looking too cute for a 13 year old?
Shut up.
We all have the right to want to look cute.

Mind you, wanting heels are one thing, and wanting tube tops and nose jobs quite another.

Still, now I can't wear makeup, and can't wear heels - and if I do - especially if I like it - I must have no personality.
Thank you, Curtis! So many nights I've gazed lovingly into the mirror wondering why I just don't get Monty Python movies, or existentialism at that.

This sortof revenge of the nerds paradigm shifting is s-t-u-p-i-d.

I know, we'll just tell everyone to just wear fleece robes to everything - class, work, innagural balls - and then everyone will have a great personality.

A great personality is not born of ugliness, nor of the inevitable inferiority complexes that all of Curtis' compensating-in-personality-now-for-lack-of-hottness-then, nor even of going to University- even a really good, diverse and fashionable one.

Disney channel moment: It - your great personality - comes from you. It comes from the people you choose to be around. It's a choice, and I guarantee there are ugly girls who have chosen the rotten personality box.

So, if you happen to wear mascara - that should have no negative impact on your personality.

It will however, when used responsibly ( not to impress some guy, knowingly and willingly objectify yourself, poke your eye out, etc...), have an extremely positive impact on your eyelashes, making them powerfully thicker, longer and more luscious -- it may also prevent party poopers like Curtis Sittenfeld from talking to you.

And for that, THIS shameless mascara-wearer - who also happens to have one bangin' personality - is grateful.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Heavy, man

Suffering a little bit from a birthday hangover/head cold.
Not the best combo, but I'll survive.
The magazine went to press today, so there's nothing for me to do specifically - I'm trying to think of creative ways to weasel in, but am coming up a little short.

Hung out with some irish musicians last night at McGurks - they were super hard-core, headbanging types.

I didn't have the heart to tell them that they played the bagpipes.
And the banjo.

I guess in ireland, you can play the bagpipes and be hard core...and that's cool!

Did a proof test (my first ever) for The Onion yesterday. It was frickin' hard! They must've sent me the most terrible and incoherent article that has ever existed.
And it wasn't funny! I chewed it up, and spit it out. I think it was lovely.
I did notice that I had one misshap (period where there should've been a comma - damn) at the end. That will most likely do me in, so I guess I'll kiss my chances at the Onion goodbye...unless of course the internship gods look down on me, or even the employment gods cast some spells, throw some lightning bolts, etc...and I end up with a paid job.

Am setting up an interview with a newspaper in the middle of appalachia pretty much - but she didn't ask for clips (don't have much to offer there) and I'd be writing 5-10 stories a week and living in a little bitty town. It sounds sortof exciting to me - and its not like I'm going to stay there for my life.

I'd of course like to spend a larger part of my life in the southeast of this great country, but beggars cannot be choosers. When I settle down, I'll just make sure its on the right plot of real estate....my dream house is for sale right now in Charleston for a mere 850K.
A steal!

I wish I were independently wealthy or something and could just buy it, rennovate it and live there and look at the grasses blowing in the ocean breeze. But I'd probably get bored.
Anyway, I'm in no shape to write an engaging entry - so I won't take up any more time.
Peace out until later!

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Peanut butter and crackers (here's the part where I sound like an ungrateful 14 year old)

When I was in High School, I really ate a lot of peanut butter and crackers. They were an antidote to the classes I was taking (or that were taking me, rather) - something to keep me awake, give me something to do besides chemistry, and if you've ever had them, you know they taste delicious. Old fashioned jiff and saltines. Writing lab reports seasoned with these delicious morseld from the George Washington carver gift shop, I'd think to myself, "When this is through Lori, you'll get in a good college, work hard, and then you can move on to healthier foods, like, lettuce...yogurt even! Plain yogurt!"

These peanut butter and crackers did give me the stamina and endurance to complete high school with honors and gain an Ivy League acceptance letter - the proverbial golden ticket. As worldly as I thought I was - I hung out in the City! - I was soon to have the cronyism and bigotry of the upper eschelon of America's educated youth shoved down my throat.
How 'bout them apples (peanut butter and crackers)?
Once I entered the hallowed halls of the fabled and ever-promising Ivy, it became quicly evident that peanut butter and crackers, especially in the abscence of caring teachers, administrators, parents, and the simple-though-labor-intensive pathways to success that high school had paved for me, would not be cutting it in the stamina and endurance department.

How many parents and high school seniors have bought into this golden ticket mentality? While I do not in any way deny the quality and quantity of my education - on many levels - while at University, I do deny its overall accessibiity. Once you're in the door - good luck and good night.

Perhaps it was the humidity of where I was brought up - Mississippi bayou summers don't necessarily make for the provebial thick skin so cultivated by the valored cutthroats of society, right? Anderson Cooper cries, and he's losing credibility -- did anyone know that he's from Tennessee? The Coop's skin is not as thick as our friend Jon, who even condescends to show us a hint of disappointment here and there - only he's allowed because his news is fake.

Freshman year of college and on at these top-tier universities are a roll call of all the demons that were supposed to have haunted the halls of every high school - only this time they're older, they're more finely tuned, and more razor sharp. There is no better breeding ground for the cliques and socio-economic ostentation than at a University. The calm and class of adulthood not has yet descended upon the 19 year old, but the understanding of power and manipulation has developed since high school.

I was surrounded by cliches.

No indivicual, good heart, or cynical midwesterner even has any hope of coming out unscathed. . Granted, there was light at the end of the tunnel, but once you've traveled far enough to see the light - it's too late for you to become the producer of that light.

And so, since I'm looking for something to talk about, I figure, why not be cathartic?
And if you happen to be a freshman - or a high school senior even - listen closely. No one should have to swallow 4 years of a scrambled education omlette because you put all your eggs into the admission basket and forgot what to do with them afterwards.

There's more work to be done than just get in the door, - and you sure as hell should not leave it to luck, nor should you depend on the kindness of strangers.
In the vacuum of university life, you have only yourself to look to.

Am I being hyperbolic? Nope.

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