Body shots

It’s been a while since I’ve done a ‘musings on random shit’ post. It’s not due to a lack of material because I’ve had some choice stories fly through my RSS feed. Sadly, I’ve been neglecting my writing since arriving in LA because of more pressing issues — both good and bad, of course. Today I decided it was time to dial up the snark and loosen up the reins. So, while I was browsing the news items earlier, I came across pieces that caused various reactions.

Have fun!

First, I love fashion. It may not look like it by the way I dress, but I admire those who design odd frocks that people want to wear. Wait … wait .. design EXPENSIVE, odd frocks that people want to wear. I understand that most haute couture pieces are works of art. I get it. I don’t admire those who wear these pieces — please. You’re not all that special. Those who deserve props are the designers. After all, they’re the delicate geniuses who came up with the designs in the first place. That, my friends, takes huge cajones.

So, imagine my surprise while I’m listening to the Dead and combing through fashion week photos on the Internets when I spied this lovely humdinger of a dress or … I … don’t … know …

Will someone please remind me to get my high beams checked? Thanks. Come to think of it, it IS a bit nippy outside today. BOO YAH! Does this dress make me look fat? Hey now! Time to pack my hips in ice. Whoa now!  I don’t know what else to say except that boobs are lost on some people.

And this photo reminds me too much of this shot. And no, I’m not cooking meth in my kitchen. Or snorting blow fish, I just have one of those types of imaginations.

Onward.

There are all sorts of fitness crazes out here. So far, I’ve run across the basics like yoga and boot camps, but I’m thrilled to see more and more MMA places joining the fray. Same with Pilates — not the fake, mat Pilates but the reformer, hardcore kind. However, during my travels, I’ve had fliers stuck on my windshield for different pole dancing schools in the LA area. Yep. My car. Not kidding. If the poor sap who’s being paid 8 cents an hour to litter cars with these brightly colored sheets of paper actually saw me, he’d probably run screaming from the parking lot and douse his eyes with bleach the first moment he had… just to get my visage out of his mental Rolodex. Can you blame him?

But I digress. I gotta give these ladies credit. It takes a lot of strength, flexibility and guts to do these moves. Couple that with being all nekkid and greased up, being pawed at by fat, married dudes from Rancho Cucamonga and you’ve got the recipe for major emotional fuckwittery. I’m sure what keeps these lasses going are the bills that get stuffed into their delicates, and the fact they get to wear some choice footwear. However, this little idea some uptight scaredy-twat is pushing inside the Beltway has bummed some of the ladies out big time.

Why didn’t I think of this?  Sometimes I don’t know where my head is at. Most electronic tablets only need one hand to use … yeah, you know where I’m going with this.

Next time I go to Florence, I’ll be sure to hit this museum because sometimes I’m not grossed out enough in my everyday life. Wonder which exhibit I’m speaking of? Here you go. Feel free to read more about it here.

 

 

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Push it out, shove it out, waaaaay out...

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