Please bookmark the correct page at http://suzannadanna.net/ Princess of Irony

They were young, they needed the money.

Issue Date: Thursday, Nov. 18, 2004

I have to admit something.

I have a guilty pleasure, and no, it is not porn, smoking (dammit), Judith Light or shaking my ass to Sir Mix-A-Lot… although, that last one is kind of cool… No, this guilty pleasure comes in the form of television crack.

The Swan. (insert weird chime noise here.)

::And an angelic chorus of hallelujahs is heard from the heavens.::

Crack people. I am so drawn in by this televised train wreck. What the hell is wrong with me?

I get home on Monday nights from a long day at the office. I make dinner for my husband and myself. If I do a load of laundry fine, if not, fine. If I do dishes, rockin… whatever, as long as my ass is in the living room when the Fox network starts televising The Swan. (insert weird chime noise here)

What is it about those women that fascinate me so?

Why do I want to see their transformations so badly?

One week Mister and I were watching and I wondered out loud, “I wonder how they are going to fix that poor woman’s teeth…” He answered, “Dynamite would help.”

Apparently he doesn’t have a love for… [dramatic pause] The Swan. (insert weird chime noise here)

Last week they had the two sisters competing against each other for [dun, dun, DUN!] the crown and I was sitting there watching these women, both of them under 175 pounds with huge racks complaining about their lives.

Oh, the drama.

One of them got these monster hooters in high school and claimed she couldn’t dance because dancers weren’t built like that.

Um, hello, I am sure Charity, Porsche, Mercedes, Sunny and Lola down at the Titty-Burger* would like to totally argue with you about dancing with double-D’s. After all, they have totally put themselves through cosmetology school with the money they made off of dancing.

They were young, they needed the money.

And, Titty-Burger is totally a made up name for a gentlemen’s club, but don’t you think it would make a killing?

Anyway… back to the point.

I had a huge ass and I danced (ballet, jazz, tap, lyrical… sorry, no Titty-Burger™) for years and you didn’t see me crying over it and living with my mother into my thirties because I was a total recluse/goober/social-retard.

I even knew several other women who had large behinds and or boobie type centers of gravity to contend with whilst dancing and it never deterred them.

There was a girl in high school named Sarah M. I would love to use her full name just for the sheer joy of her finding herself via vanity-Googling… but since I am talking about her butt, I won’t. Sarah did a solo for our Sophomore Spring Show, she broke out of the mold of doing group numbers and opted to do ballet. Gutsy Miss Sarah, gutsy. With her larger hips and backside she had a very flow-y type of movement to her. She was graceful and yet powerful with a large chest and a bright smile. Almost like a ship moving on top of water. I loved to watch her dance.

In college one of my girl friends (and very briefly a roommate) was Rochelle T. (gorgeous really). Rochelle was raised just outside of Austin, TX by a very wealthy mother and father; they doted on her as the youngest of two. She had the best clothes, best jewelry; best make up, best hair and the absolute best smile. She described her ass as a buffet. One that you could park your drink on while you conversed with her. She and I had a few classes together and one happened to be dance. I had the joy of watching her bend and stretch and be quite flexible. She too was very graceful no matter what dance floor she inhabited, whether it was at The Garage or in the rehearsal room of our jazz class. And yep, Roch had a rack too.

I just don’t get where that girl on The Swan (insert weird chime noise here) got off bitching and crying about how she went away for the summer in high school and then came back as this woman with ::gasp!:: Boobs!… “And… ::sniff:: dancers aren’t built like that.”

I’ve got news for you missy. I have seen some that are.


In other news…

This is recorded on my cell phone memo function:

“John Tesh fucks up your favorite hymns!
K-Tel has an exclusive agreement with John Tesh to re-release all of your favorite Christian songs fucked up like only John Tesh can do!
Amazing Grace becomes Amazing Disgrace!
Why record original music when John Tesh can screw up someone else’s perfectly acceptable melody?
Order Now!”

Yeah, we’re going to hell.

But… it was funny.

Ps… please do not sue me John Tesh.


Ok poppets, I will be gone for quite a while. I will be at the parental units next week for Thanksgiving… Happy Thanksgiving! And then I have a three-city conference that will probably make me gray and my uterus fall out… but alas, send me g-mail babies!

I’ll be back in a few weeks!

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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.


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