Miss Wendy's
Texas Love Advice
Plus Some Occasional Comments on the
State of the Popular Culture
L-R: Michael Mazocco, Wendy
R. Williams, Armistead Johnson
Photo Credit: Stephen Mosher
Click
here for Miss Wendy's Latest Column
Dear Miss Wendy,
Do you think water
beds are sexy?
Sincerely,
Mariner Man
Dear Mariner,
No. Because everytime
I see a water bed there is an aging male hippy lolling
on it.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I
am coming to New York for the CMJ Music Festival
(October 16-20, 2007) www.cmj.com/marathon/.
How should I reinvent myself so I get "lucky"
while I am here?
Sincerely,
Twitchy Music Fan
Dear Twitch,
The
look would be British rocker punk (see photos below
of Amy Winehouse and her husband Blake Fielder-Civil).
I know, I know! They certainly are not conventionally
pretty (please lose the blood and track marks) but
this is the look that is rocking the streets
during CMJ (I just got back from the West Village).
But there is one caveat, make the look your own
by reinterpreting it. Then do what we did in the
South, put on all your regalia and stand in front
of a full length mirror, twirl around quickly and
remove the first item you see (starting with the
cigarette).
Added
Bonus: When you return home, you can reuse
your new/old threads look as your Halloween costume
(you can restore the blood and the track marks).
But not the cigarette. Cuz it's fun to look like
you're dying, but no fun to actually die. Besides,
a careful reading of Anne Rice's books will show
you that vampires don't actually have sex.
 |
 |
Blake Fielder-Civil
Harvey Nichols Department Store After The
Launch of Olsen Twins
'The Row'
London October 9, 2007
Solarpix / PR Photos
|
Amy Winehouse
Harvey Nichols Department Store After The
Launch of Olsen Twins
'The Row'
London October 9, 2007
Solarpix / PR Photos |
Dear Miss Wendy,
I just read your
answer about how the sexiest smell for a bedroom
is clean and I don't believe you for a minute! How
about the sweaty smell of sex or even that nasty
whiskey and cigarette bar smell?
Sincrerley,
Bar Stool Babe
Dear Babe,
Okay! Okay! Sweat
and that nasty bar smell are sexy, but those scents
need to be treated like fresh fish and house guests
and thrown out the window after three days.
Dear Miss Wendy,
What is the best
scent I can use to make my bedroom sexy?
Sincerely,
Perfumed Passion
Dear Perfumed,
The sexiest scent
you can smell in a bedroom is no scent at all (as
in clean) and that means no farting and no smoking.
I personally love the smell of sheets that have
been washed in Tide. But if you insist on scenting
up the bedroom, try the rosewater fabric sprays
from L'Occitane
or or burn a Votivo
candles.
Dear Miss Wendy,
What is the best music
to use for my “romantic moments?”
Sincerely,
Inner Symphony Conductor
Dear Conductor,
Dance music mixes with one, two, three, four beat
are best. What works in the clubs, runways and Ipods-on-the-treadmill,
also works in the bedroom. Try Club Cielo’s
Volare
and Seventh
Heaven. For a sample, see ClubCielo.com.
If keeping up with the beat is
too hard or if you want something more romantic,
try any of the Buddha
Bar DJ sets.
I have heard that some gay
guys play the music from musicals like Phantom
of the Opera and Miss Saigon, but
there is no way for me to actually verify that information.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I
am smitten with this boy who has a massive crush
on Brittany Spears. I have tried shaving my head,
gaining weight, dancing clumsily and I even bought
a trailer. He pays me no attention.
What can I do??
Sincerely,
Baffled in Babylon
There is nothing you can
do. It’s not just the sex, it’s the
money, babe! Ms. Spears is a millionaire many times
over and in all her dysfunctional glory she has
the power to pluck a Cinderfella like Kevin Federline
out of the car washes of life and turn his frog
into a prince. And if romance eventually pales (as
it always does), as long as Britney continues to
be lousy about counting pills (or telling the days
of the week), there might be yet another Baby Spears
and our love-lorn lad could collect whopping child
support (KFed gets $50,000 a MONTH) for the next
eighteen years. This chance to hop on the Spears
money train is one powerful aphrodisiac, my dear.
So unless Babylon is now growing millionaires you
are SOL.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I have been following your correspondence
with the New York “window dancers” and
their telescope-using-neighbors-across-the-street.
I am not presently a New York resident; I live in
suburban New Jersey (I know, I know) so I am only
able to perform when I visit the city. But when
I am in town I carefully select my hotel rooms to
be sure that the windows are situated in such a
way that my “my show” has an audience.
(I do a Dita Von Teese/Sally Rand fan act; I have
custom made suitcases for my fans.)
But I was fascinated to read an
article in yesterday’s New York Times about
all the new glass- walled condos that are being
built in New York and Brooklyn and even though it
will involve considerable sacrifice financially,
I am planning on coming to New York this week to
purchase one of these units.
Does Miss Wendy have any advice?
Sincerely,
Window Dancer
Dear Window,
I also was fascinated to
read about these wonderful “glass box”
condos and immediately thought about my readers
who love to “put on a show.” My only
caveat is that according to the article, some of
these units have scrims built into the window that
might prevent your neighbors and any potential passersby
from getting a proper view. So you might want to
get the advice from a lighting designer and be sure
to be explicit in your instructions, otherwise they
may wrongfully assume that you want a lighting design
that assures your privacy. .
Dear Miss Wendy,
I saw Kid Rock on The David
Letterman Show the other night. When Dave asked
Kid if he had any advice for Rick Salomon (Pamela
Anderson’s new husband), Kid replied, “Why
buy the cow, if you can get the milk for free?”
Sincerely,
Huh?
Dear Huh?
I simply boggles my mind
how Pamela could have divorced a suave sophisticated
man like Kid Rock; that girl just walked out the
door after only three months of wedded bliss [and
right into the arms of another reprobate, but that
is the subject of another letter]. That Kid is such
a silver tongued devil, blessed with such
a talent for original witty expression – a
true hetro Oscar Wilde. Surely some sophisticated
classy woman will quickly snatch him out of his
divorce doldrums. Is Denise Richards available?
Dear Miss Wendy,
I wrote you yesterday about
how my boyfriend does not like my dog, Rufus, just
because Rufus occasionally sticks his nose where
it does not belong. You immediately assumed I was
a woman and told me to get rid of him, my boyfriend
not the dog, and find a guy who has a Great Dane
before we had to get divorced and split up the china.
Well….. I am a gay man and I can’t get
divorced because I can’t get married and there
is no way I am letting a Great Dane in to my tiny
studio apartment.
Sincerely,
Miffed on Bleeker
Dear Miffed,
You wouldn’t let a
Great Dane into your apartment even if he had just
won the Mr. Gay Copenhagen Award?
Sorry, I digress. As for my assuming you were a
woman when I gave you that advice about losing the
non-dog-loving guy and finding a fellow dog lover
before you had to split up the kids, house and unwanted
china, that advice applies to gay men and lesbians
too.
You can’t fool me. I watched a documentary
about Rosie’s
Gay Family Cruise and I have never seen a more
conventional looking group of family-values-advocates.
Why the whole outing looked like a bunch of parsons-on-a-picnic!
So there! Even gay men and lesbians are not being
spared the reality of Tulsa, Oklahoma suburban lifestyles.
And of course, gay men and women should be allowed
to get married; someone needs to "support the
institution of marriage" and heterosexuals
just can't seem to get it right the first, second
or even third time they try. They just keep asking
for do-overs. Examples: Pamela Anderson and the
majority of the Republican Presidential candidates.
But since you are a gay man, I will modify the dog
advice. You can look for a man who has a designer
dog that matches his clothing just as long as he
did not buy the dog from a puppy mill. And since
you live in a studio apartment and already have
your own large dog (making you top dog), please
try to fall for a man with a smaller dog.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I just started dating this really
great guy but he doesn’t like my dog. Rufus,
my dog not my boyfriend, is a lovable golden-retriever-and-something-or-the-other-mix.
But he, my dog not my boyfriend, can be a little
rambunctious and when my boyfriend and I are doing
our thing, sometimes Rufus’ nose ends up in
the wrong place. And since I live in a studio apartment,
there is really no place for Rufus to sleep other
than with us in my bed.
Sincerely,
Doggie Do
Dear Doo Doo,
It’s time to get rid of
the boyfriend, say “Next” and find a
guy who has a Great Dane. There are only two kinds
of people in the world: dog people and no dog people.
So break it up now before you have to figure out
what to do about child custody, the mortgage and
the china-we-just-had-to-have-but-now-no-one-wants.
As for where Miss Wendy
stands on the scale of dogs or no dogs, Miss Wendy
loves dogs but she also loves couches and oriental
rugs.
Dear Miss Wendy,
What are the "hottest"
hotels in downtown New York?
Sincerely,
Seeker
Dear Seeker,
What story do you want to tell
or in the words from the musical Miss Saigon,
what it the "the movie in your mind"?
Here are some cool downtown hotels
where you can be cool and downtown.
If you are a bohemian kid, the
best choice would be the Howard
Johnson on Houston Street. Yes the hotel itself
is boring but it is right in the midst of the funky
and arty Lower East Side neighborhood known as LES.
If you are an independent film
maker (with a few more dollars than the bohemian
kid), there is the LES 21 story glass tower Hotel
on Rivington with its 70’s themed cave
bar. The Hotel on Rivington is just steps from hot
night spots like the Andy Warhol inspired 205
Bar, a hot spot for stylish stars like Sienna
Miller. And the Hotel is just a quick cab ride to
Butter, a hot spot for stars like Uma Thurman.
In the heart of the shopping/arting/clubbing
Meat Packing district is the Soho
House which advertises itself as members only
but has rooms available to the public. The Soho
House is the perfect place to channel your inner
Sophia Coppola (Lost in Translation) or
Noah Baumbach (Margot at the Wedding, presently
at the New
York Film Festival). Right across the street
from the Soho House is the equally chic Gansevoort
Hotel which boasts one of the best roof deck
bars in Manhattan.
Tribeca Grand Hotel Bar
Photo Credit Wendy R. Williams
For only slightly more conventional
types, there is the Tribeca
Grand Hotel. The Tribeca Grand has a stunning
lobby bar set in a soaring atrium - the home away
from home for the filmmakers who trek to the Tribeca
Film Festival.
Just down the street from the
Tribeca Grand is the Soho
Grand, which is just as beautiful and only slightly
more sedate. The Soho Grand has an outdoor entertainment
space, The Yard, that was used for some of the most
fun fashion shows during September 2007 fashion
week (Unruly
Heir, Form).
And last there is 60
Thompson, a gorgeous little boutique hotel right
in the heart of Soho. 60 Thompson’s members
only rooftop club has been the site of many a celebrity
photo shoot.
All these hotels (with the exception
of the budget Howard Johnson) have hot bars that
are just the sets to turn your non-Disneyfied "movie
in your mind" into your personal reality show
whether it be a New York based Lost
in Translation or a remake of Nine
1/2 Weeks.
Dear Miss Wendy,
There is great news out of Las
Vegas. Former Baywatch beauty Pamela Anderson
(also formerly Mrs. Tommy Lee and formerly Mrs.
Kid Rock) has married Rick Salomon (formerly Mr.
Shannon Doherty and also Paris Hilton’s costar
in her inaugural porn film One Night in Paris).
They were married right after Pamela performed at
the Las Vegas Planet Hollywood.
Sincerely,
Tabloid Tilly
Dear Tabby,
The Pamela/Rick nuptials are pure
camp. The only thing that would have made them campier
would be if Tommy Lee and Kid Rock had been twin
best men and Raoul
Felder had been the official witness. Because
you know your marriage is in trouble when the top
Los Angeles divorce attorneys greet the announcement
of your nuptials by entering your names in their
Outlook contact reminders.
If the sixties taught us anything
it is that you can make a mistake without marrying
it and paying the divorce "tax" of up
to half of everything you own to your ex and two
sets of warring attorneys. And anytime you have
a bride and groom who have both starred in their
own home made porn videos, the situation spells
disaster with a big DEE (as in DEE-saster).
But the real question is:
how quickly will she change her name on her driver’s
license? Never the mind that this is her third loser
in like five years and that there are two children
involved (and maybe some dogs – PETA are you
on board?). For as we have all learned in the last
weeks, the technicalities of the driver’s
license laws are the litmus test for character in
our new and amazing artificial celebrity world.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I am considering
buying a Ralph
Lauren four poster Safari bed? Do you think
it will make my bedroom look sexy?
Sincerely,
Traditional Teresa
Dear Trady,
That would depend
upon who sleeps in it.
Dear Miss Wendy,
So Senator Larry Craig is not going to resign.
Hmm..
Sincerely,
Plato
Dear Plato,
Senator Craig needs to learn how
to say: So what!
Here are some lines Senator Craig should memorize:
“I was in a public bathroom
and this vice cop said I was tapping my toes and
acting gay and I panicked because I am an old grandfather
[who might be gay] and I simply did not know how
to handle the situation so I pleaded guilty to a
misdemeanor in the hope that the situation would
just go away.”
Hey, it does not matter whether
or not he IS gay. That is what happened and no one
should lose a Senate seat because they were fidgeting
in a stall, even for making hand signals under the
stall. It’s too nebulous. Want sex? Want some
toilet paper? And he is an old man and even the
most militant gay activist surely has some older
male relative (gay or straight) who would react
the same way Senator Craig did.
This is one of those occasions
when we as a tabloid reading nation have collectively
gone out on an emotional bender. And a few years
from now when we try to explain to someone who was
not around at the time they are going to think we
were crazy. Just exactly what was he doing? Well,
“according to the arrest report cited by Roll
Call, Craig tapped his right foot, which the officer
said he recognized "as a signal used by persons
wishing to engage in lewd conduct." Say what?
And by the way, Miss Wendy is
a lifelong Democrat who supports gay marriage (better
them than me) and would never vote for a Senator
like Larry Craig because I don’t agree with
him politically. But he should have the right to
fidget in a bathroom (whether he is signalling gay
intentions or constipation) and not be arrested.
Crime needs to be overt.
The Minneapolis Police Department
needs to instruct their officers that if they are
in a restroom and some man makes eye contact, taps
his feet and swipes his hand (notice I said his
hand not his anything else) under the stall and
the cop recognizes this "activity" as
"a signal used by persons wishing to engage
in lewd conduct," the proper response is, "Thanks
but no thanks, I am busy trying to catch terrorists."
Dear Miss Wendy,
I am desperate.
I have done everything you advised that I do to
find a mate. I even ran in the New York City Marathon
wearing a Save Tibet tee shirt And nothing! Every
time I see my mother, she just looks at me and says,
“So?”
Sincerely,
Desperate in Brooklyn
Dear Desperate
Keep on truckin’ and don’t
despair. No matter how harsh the dating scene appears,
the Universe harbors your soul mate. And after all,
ANYONE can get married. If you don’t believe
me, make a trip to Kleinfelds
Bridal Emporium in Brooklyn and look at the
women who are trying on wedding dresses. Or go to
any mid America mall and look at the couples walking
through the mall. The marriage market may appear
to be an insurmountable mountain but all you have
to do is find one path across the top.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I am a young woman who just moved to New York City
to work at an advertising firm and I really want
to meet a nice man. Do you have any suggestions?
Sincerely,
Lonely from Louisiana
Dear Lousiana,
There a million different ways
to meet single people in New York: your work; singles
bars (try the sports ones); volunteer work; dating
services like EHarmony if you are Christian and
perfect and JDate if you are Jewish and perfect;
churches; synagogues; and political organizations.
There is one caveat about the political organizations:
if you are are a Republican, please don't meet another
Republican and breed as inbreeding is inherently
unhealthy. Why just look at dear Prince Charles's
ears! Just one look at the baby Prince Charles'
ears and we Southerners quit our long-held practice
of marrying our cousins.
But the real way to meet someone
you will really like is to do what you really love
to do whether it be running in the marathon, demonstrating
for a free Tibet or pole dancing. Like attracts
like.
And if you are sincere about the
nice guy part (and are not secretly looking for
a bad boy [try Wall Street]), do some volunteer
work where you sweat and get your hands dirty. Anyone
you meet there will probably be a mensch.
Also, tell everyone you know that you are looking.
New York is a city full of good yentas.
Dear Miss Wendy,
What do you think about Britney’s
Spears finally driving her life into a ditch and
losing custody of her two babies to the car-wash-guy,
Kevin Federline?
Sincerely,
Tabloid Tilly
Dear Tabby,
Well, addiction’s a bitch
- Britney’s addiction to whatever she is taking
to yo-yo her weight (today she’s skinny, tomorrow
she’s not) and Kevin’s addiction to
her money. Does anyone believe that Kevin is only
motivated by concern for the welfare of his children
(they are adorable)? This is the guy who ditched
a pregnant Shar Jackson (the mother of his oldest
child) to do his Daddy-got-a-better-deal dance with
Britney.
If Britney was not already
a successful rock star (I know, I know)
and did not have money, do you really think Kevin
would volunteer to be a stay at home Dad while she
LAUNCHED her career? Kevin’s only way to stay-on-Britney’s-payroll
is to collect child support like a hip-hop star’s
baby mommy. He is like one of those mule deer who
have hung around camp sites so long they have become
addicted to sugar and salt and can no longer forage
for or digest vegetation and will starve to death
without a supply of junk food. (See this article
in the New
York Times.)
Dear Miss Wendy,
TMZ.com
is reporting that former Baywatch beauty
Pamela Anderson (who was previously married to Tommy
Lee and Kid Rock) is about to marry Rick Salomon
(who was previously married to Shannon Doherty and
who also starred with Paris Hilton in an underground
porn movie, “One Night in Paris”). And
they are planning to get married at the Little White
Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas!!!
Is this woman deaf and dumb; has
bleach seeped into her brain? Why can’t she
see that she is about to be run over by a dump truck
- AGAIN?
Sincerely,
Internet Addict
Dear Addict,
The real question should
be are they both deaf and dumb? But if you believe
in magnetic theory, they are simply attracting their
own kind (they both have starred in supposedly
pirated porn movies, etc. etc.). Romance
follows the same set of rules that are used to select
fishing lures. Here is a quote from wisegeek.com.
“Many fishing lures are made in bright, almost
obnoxious colors, while others are muted and more
natural. Again, making the right choice is largely
based on the type of fish you are trying to catch
and the fishing conditions.”
So as long as Pamela Anderson (who is actually a
beautiful woman) lives her life looking like a Amanda
Lepore prototype, she will continue to attract carnival
men.
Dear Miss Wendy,
The woman who lives in the building directly across
from me puts on a nightly show, dancing in front
of the window in various stages of undress. Depending
on the lighting, sometimes “her show”
is as explicit as anything I could see in Times
Square. Should I be complaining?
Sincerely,
Peeping
Dear Peep,
That depends: are you able to
enjoy the show using your present telescope? If
not, either take it in for repair or buy a new one
(perhaps with some infrared options to compensate
for the bad lighting).
One of the dirty little secrets
(benefits ) about living in New York City are the
complicit arrangements between peeping Toms and
the exhibitionists who “put on a show”
by seemingly forgetting to close their curtains.
This is very similar to the complicit arrangement
between the Hollywood starlets who “forget
to wear panties” and then “forget to
close their legs,” the photographers who hang
out in parking lots all night long in the hopes
of aiming their cameras up these “forgetful”
starlets' dresses (making them wait around in the
parking lot all night does have an S & M feel
to it) and the peeping-Tom-public who franticly
surf the net in hopes of seeing the latest up-the-skirt
footage . (Just where was that link?) It
is a fragile eco-system that would quickly dry up
without the willing participation of the other parties.
But if you can’t see enough,
you only need to aim your (new?) telescope at another
window. This is New York; most of your neighbors
have theater and/or film degrees so our illicit
window shows can rival Lord & Taylor's Christmas
windows in production values.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I am a single woman in my forties
and I recently traveled alone to Jamaica to join
my family for a vacation. Everywhere I went I got
“knowing” looks from the local men.
Then I found out that ever since the movie 1998
movie How Stella Got Her Groove Back, middle
aged women have been traveling to Jamaica so they
can hook up with the local “locks” men.
Sincerely,
Middle-aged Beach Baby
Dear Baby,
Oh yes, Jamaica rent-a-dreads,
the hot young men who “hang around”
the resorts offering their services as a (wink-wink)
tour guide. But since their all-inclusive-package
quite possible includes STD’s, you need to
ignore Bob Marley's "Don't worry about a thing"
advice and instead conjure up the spirit of Nancy
Reagan (or Amy Winehouse’s reaction to rehab)
and “Just say no.” And I am sure you
won’t be missing out on much. There is so
much ganga (Jamaican marijuana) smoking in Negril,
nothing would ever happen until tomorrow and as
we all know, tomorrow never comes.
Dear Miss Wendy,
What is this fascination that New Yorkers have
with everything Australian: Australian beer; Australian
bars; Tribeca Film Festival’s Australian import
Tropfest; and New York’s fashion week is filled
with Australian designers like Sass and Bide and
Aurelia Costarella (squiring porn-star-turned-gal-around-town
Jenna Jameson). We are a little too cool to embrace
the Outback Steak House, but it too has invaded
Manhattan.
Sincerely,
Crocodile Me
Dear Croc,
Miss Wendy is fascinated with
our recent Australian obsession. New Yorkers who
would not deign-to-feign interest in the goings-on
in say Atlanta, are going ga-ga about Australia.
My theory is that it started with the 1986 film
Crocodile Dundee, when Paul Hogan (playing
Crocodile Dundee) disarmed some New York City street
thugs and then turned to Linda Kozlowski (who was
playing his love interest Sue) and off-handedly
said, “Kids.” We all sighed and collectively
became obsessed with the image of a man who was
so sure of himself sexually that he could wear an
Australian outback "costume" on the streets
of New York without fretting that he would be mistaken
for member of the Village People and asked to sing
"YMCA".
And just look at the other male
movie/tv stars we have imported from Australia:
Russell Crowe; the late great Steve Irwin; Mel Gibson;
Guy Pearce; and Hugh Jackman. Okay, so Hugh Jackman
does not have that “I’m dangerously
sexy because my great grandpa was a British convict
and I can wrestle crocodiles” veneer, but
you cannot deny he’s sexy, just watch Woody
Allen’s film Scoop. And conversely
Australia has produced a bumper crop of hot-looking-but-also-really-smart-and-ethereal-looking
female movie stars like Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett
and Naomi Watts.
Hey, it’s a brave
new world out there. Excessively polite customer
service representatvies are sitting in cubicles
in India and unlocking our car doors, “This
is OnStar and your car is now unlocked.” So
why not outsource our sexual fantasies and dream
about getting a little down-under for our down-unders?
Dear Miss Wendy,
Would investing in Porthault sheets
(prices start at $2000) make my bedroom more erotic?
Sleeping Beauty
Dear Beauty,
Miss Wendy always approves of
wretched exceess if you have the wretch to excess.
But, while buying Porthault sheets would certainly
make your bedroom more comfortable (and prestigious),
if your question is which sheets see the
most action (a sort of bang-for-your-buck rating)
the hands-down winner would be the cheap Target
and Ikea sets purchased by college students.
Dear Miss Wendy,
What do you think about what happened
when OJ recently got juiced in Las Vegas? But maybe
this has nothing to do with sex, hmm?
Sincerely,
Rockingham Roxie
Dear Roxie,
Actually I bet that gang-who-couldn’t-shoot-straight-that-looks-right-out-of
-an-Elmore-Leonard-novel was entirely motivated
by sex. No, not sex with OJ, silly. But this little
group of sad-sack-used-car-salesmen-looking-hangers-on
were most likely in the game in the hope of
getting second helpings from the cocktail-waitresses-and/or-real-estate-saleswomen-from-Tulsa-on-holiday
who might be attracted to a what-happens-in-Vegas-stays-in-Vegas
romp-in-the-sack with OJ. So there those
middle-aged-loser-wing-men are, getting
soused in a second rate hotel bar while they wait
around to get laid, when they hear a bugle call
to help fellow-good-old-boy OJ “move some
stuff” (like the guy needed to pick up a couch).
And the rest is tabloid history.
Dear Miss Wendy,
I recently attended a wedding
and when the bride and groom cut the cake the quickly
proceeded to smash cake all over each others faces
(like they always do). I thought they looked silly
and immature (like they always do) – getting
icing all over the brides's veil and the groom’s
cummerbund. Does this practice harken back to some
ancient fertility rite?
Sincerely,
Feeling Crumby
Dear Crumb,
Miss Wendy does not know the entire
story behind this apparent silliness but I do have
inkling that there is an underlying perversion driving
this overwhelming desire by otherwise sensible brides
and grooms to rub wedding cake all over each other.
Here is how I came upon this inkling.
In one of Miss Wendy’s many other roles, she
occasionally writes plays. And once upon a time
she gave one of her characters a foot fetish. Miss
Wendy (having just arrived in New York from Texas)
was a little naïve at the time and assumed
that this was a perfectly safe comedic choice as
how could anyone actually have a foot fetish?
Well, was Miss Wendy in for a
surprise! There is a whole subset of humanity out
there that is totally turned on by feet –
they have their own clubs, message boards and websites.
They even have underground establishments that cater
to their ever ring-toed desire.
After Miss Wendy’s play
was produced, some of these practitioners decided
to get in touch with Miss Wendy assuming that she
shared their peccadillo. And one of Miss Wendy’s
new-found acquaintances (one who worked for one
of those escort services that they talk about on
Law and Order, you know the ones where
the proprietors are always insisting that his girls
are only hired for their high-class companioinship
and conversational skills) told Miss Wendy that
in addition to being hired by men who pay to rub
her feet, she is occasionally hired to do a cake-in.
Here is how it (a cake-in) works:
The customer rents a space and covers all the walls
and floors with plastic. The customer also supplies
every kind of cake imaginable. My new friend would
then chase her customer around the room and smash
cakes all over his body. And these were not day-old
store cakes, but really nice bakery-made birthday
cakes. And by being covered in cake the customer
was so turned on…………
So there you have it, a
wonderful new (sticky) visual to have in your mind
at your next wedding reception.
Dear Miss Wendy,
Would Miss Wendy like to comment
on Miss Brittney Spears latest woes and I don’t
mean that horrid weave? What about her being charged
with hit-and-run – see news.aol.com.
I know this has nothing to do
with sex, but maybe it’s sexy?????
Sincerely,
TMZ Tuna
Dear Tuna,
Dear Miss Wendy is from Texas,
the home of tall tales and whoppers, where as a
precocious little girl she was taught to apply the
shit test to everything she heard.
So Brittney hit another car as
she was pulling into a parking lot and did not stop
to look at the other car and leave a note and the
whole thing was caught on tape. HMMMMMM!
Well, does anyone stop to wonder just how many paparazzi
were in the parking lot with her and just how many
flash bulbs were going off as she got out of her
car? Could she have even seen the other car after
being blinded by so many flash bulbs? And why didn’t
any of the paparazzi in the parking lot holler,
“Hey Brittney, I think you dinged a car”
and/or if they had, could it have been heard through
that horrid cacophony of snapping flash bulbs and
"Here Brittneys"? But surely they did
not want Brittney to be arrested for hit-and-run
so they would have yet another story to cover? And
if she had had her wits about her (which was obviously
not the case) and had attempted to leave a note
with her phone number and insurance information,
just what do you think would have happend to that
note and just how much would it be worth on EBAY?
And why when the owner of the
car found out (supposedly through Youtube)
that Brittney had damaged her car did she not just
try to contact Brittney instead of going to the
police? Could it be that the newshounds looked up
her license plate and “pushed their story
along” by notifying the car owner and encouraging
her to go to the police. It wouldn’t have
taken much to rile the car owner up, after all it
is LA and people get mad if you leave your nasty
fingerprints on their cars.
And about the no California drivers
license, could it be that Miss Brittney is a Louisiana
resident (she has a huge house there) for tax reasons
and one of the things any good tax accountant will
tell you is that you must have your drivers license
show your primary residence (and have your bills
delivered to the same) if you want to prove it is
your primary residence if you are audited.
And while Miss Wendy totally
disapproves of drinking and driving (I am in LA
all the time and do not to die on the freeway after
being hit by a drunken artificial celebrity), I
am certain that Miss Paris Hilton and Miss Nicole
Ritchie were high on the radar of the local constabulary
and were driving easily recognizable cars. After
all, they normally drive through LA followed by
a motorcade of paparazzi that rivals the one that
President Bush uses when he invades New York City,
thus greatly increasing the probablity that they
will be pulled over anytime they are out in "that
car".
Dear Miss Wendy,
Would Miss Wendy like to comment
on the recent bad-behavior-in-the-airport-bathroom
scandal involving Republican Senator Larry Craig?
Sincerely,
Neat Nelly
Dear Neat,
I most certainly would. It is
incredibly sad that anyone should lose their job
over such silliness or that anyone should have to
repress their sexuality so much that they are reduced
to making obscure gestures in a public bathroom.
See
this quote from my What's Up Today column:
CNN.com
has this description of the lewd conduct: "According
to Roll Call, the arresting officer alleged that
Craig lingered outside a restroom stall where the
officer was sitting, then entered the stall next
door and blocked the door with his luggage. According
to the arrest report cited by Roll Call, Craig tapped
his right foot, which the officer said he recognized
"as a signal used by persons wishing to engage
in lewd conduct." The report alleges Craig
then touched the officer's foot with his foot and
the senator "proceeded to swipe his hand under
the stall divider several times," according
to Roll Call."
HMMM! Well, I guess we all need to be extra careful
about our public restroom behavior from now on because
this is exactly how women act in a public bathroom:
we wait forever peering under the stalls to see
if they are occupied, finally get a stall and sit
down then immediately start fidgeting when we realize
that there is no toilet paper and then try to get
the person "next stall" to give us some
by sticking our hands under the stall."
Perhaps we should all get a card that says, "I'm
not gay, I just need some toilet paper" that
we can pass back under the stall when an arresting
office (who obviously has too much time on his hands)
passes his badge under the stall.
And why are the Republicans so upset about this
anyway? It's not like he asked that cop to marry
him. And is there so little real crime
in Minneapolis that the local police are reduced
to such nonesense?
Update:
It seems that Senator Craig has decided to
appeal his disorderly conduct guilty plea. And the
DA is going to oppose it because Senator Craig's
conduct of
peering into a stall (through the gaps between the
door and the stall structure) was a gross invasion
of restroom privacy. Well, excuse me. This supposed
invasion of privacy happened in a men's room and
THERE ARE URINALS IN THERE. How can any man expect
privacy in place with URINALS?
If the Minneapolis police are
really so concerned with maintaining orderly conduct
in the men's room, they should just do what we used
to do in Texas when we found some unfixed dogs carrying
on in the front yard just as the parson was pulling
up in his Chevy. We'd just grab a bucket of water
and pour it on the varmints. That way there would
be no need to arrest anyone or kick anyone out of
the Senate for playing footsie with the wrong man.
Dear Miss Wendy,
It is Fashion Week! Please tell
us: Is there sex during fashion week?
Sincerely,
Longing Fashionista
Dear Long,
Absolutely not. Everyone involved
in Fashion Week is entirely too hungry and bitchy
to be interested in sex.
See this quote from my February
2007 Column: "Well there will be a lot
of pretty little things walking down the runway
(see through blouses with no bra, thongs peeping
through voile for both men and women) but realistically,
there will be no sex. The female models have not
eaten in about a month and if propositioned would
probably say something like, “Not now sweetie,
but why don’t you just talk dirty to me while
I do this line?” The male models have had
a little more to eat and might be a little more
interested, but are still likely to say something
like, “Oh that’s nice, but why don’t
you just get up and act as my spotter while I lift
these weights?” And the designers will brush
away any amorous efforts with a, “For heavens
sake, darlings! If you really want to be useful,
get off your knees and make a Starbucks run! Someone
is going to trip over you and break a heel!”
You see, everyone at Fashion Week is an ascetic,
asexual alien; things are different in their world."
Do you have a Question for Miss
Wendy?
Email her at newyorkcoolstuff@aol.com
All of Miss Wendy's
old columns are in the New York Cool Archive Section:
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/August/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/July/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/June/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/May/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/April/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/March/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/February/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2007/January/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/December/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/November/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/October/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/September/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/August/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/July/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/June/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/May/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/April/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/March/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/February/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2006/January/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/December/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/November/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/October/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/September/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/August/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/July/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/June/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/June/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/May/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/April/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/March/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/February/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2005/January/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/December/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/November/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/October/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/September/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/August/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/July/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/June/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/May/ask.html
http://www.newyorkcool.com/archives/2004/April/ask.html
|
