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It Must Be February

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Must be February, the Easter candy is on the shelves.

And the “cabin fever news stories” are circulating.  That’s what appears when all of the news outlets are sick and tired of going hysterical about the weather—record-high snowfall, record-low temperatures, funny (or not-so) pictures of people digging out, names for the storms (How about Hortense?  We haven’t seen that name for a while…probably for good reason.)—so they have to come up with something else hysterical.  Here’s what I’ve seen so far.

So, first, there’s this Gothic hip-hop artist (Just think for a minute what that might entail) named Padge Victoria Windslowe, who performed under the name “Black Madam”(Are you getting a picture here?), who is on trial for murder in Philadelphia.  The weapon of choice?  Are we talking pistol here?  Poison?   A  knife?  Well…. Sort of….

Ms Windslowe did illegal plastic surgery on the side (of her hip-hop creations, apparently) and is accused of killing a 20-year-old dancer from London (She had to come all the way to Philly to get plastic surgery?) during a procedure performed at an airport hotel (Now there’s an operating-room venue for you!) which involved industrial-grade silicone and Krazy Glue.  Not your everyday cosmetic regime, for sure! Don’t think about this too hard.  This chick (the artist, not the dancer, she was long gone) boasted at her trial that her body-sculpting work was so popular that she was known as “the Michelangelo of buttocks injections”.  Sounds more like Salvador Dali –he of the surrealist scenes and limp watches—to me.  Call me crazy, but the minute that industrial-grade silicone and Krazy Glue were introduced as evidence, I think that the foreman/forewoman of the jury could just call a halt to the whole proceeding and say, “Lock her up.”  It would save a lot of time…and some pretty yucky evidence too.

In what was, no doubt, a sincere attempt to lessen the possibility that any such thing as body sculpting might be envisioned in the Big Sky Country, a state representative in the Montana legislature recently introduced a bill that would outlaw yoga pants.  The state’s indecent exposure law would be strengthened to forbid the wearing of  said exercise attire and Speedos, anything that outlines certain specific physical features, coming or going.  One such exposure( I love this description)”whether direct or as advertised” as a result of tight clothing would result in a first-time offense penalty of $500; a second offense would bring a $1,000 fine and a possible sojourn of one year in the pokey.  Bring back the tent-dress to the West!

And in the medical/cosmetic field once more….  According to The Week , an optometrist in India has come up with a new way to be ostentatious with one’s wealth.  Just what we’ve all been longing for!  He can fit you with 24-karat contact lenses.  Not   solid but enough of a coating to turn the eyes a glimmering gold when seen by others (No comment on what the apparatus looks like from the inside, enough  shimmer to brighten your whole day , perhaps?).  I’m thinking that the outward appearance would be a whole lot like one of the cats.  Spooky, she’s got yellow eyes.  Anyway, he got the idea after his wife got diamonds implanted in her teeth, causing him to realize that people(or at least people like his wife) were prepared to shell out big bucks for total-body bling.  So, who’s making more money over there, dentists or optometrists?  Nobody at my last check-up, either dental or optometric, asked me if I was interested in any such procedures.  What?  They think that I don’t have any riches to flaunt?  The eyewear can run as much as $18,000 per pair.  For that outlay, Dr. Chandrashekhar claims that anyone  “who looks into a wearer’s golden eyes will be ‘mesmerized.’”

Startled, anyway.

And if you have any of that kind of work done, don’t even think about trying to land a job as a seat-filler at one of the big televised events like the Academy Awards, the Emmys, the Golden Globes, SAG Awards or People’s Choice.  The producers of these things want it to look as though every seat is filled, so they fill ‘em with whoever—suitable whoevers– they can lay their hands on.  To get the gig, you need to know somebody—relatives are good—who works for the Academy or for Price Waterhouse, the company which counts the votes. You may be asked to send in a resume’, a photo (Be careful about what you think is your “good side”), your Facebook or Instagram profile.

The dress code (Oh, yes, there is one!) is described as “upscale club/casual” (Why do I suspect that the West Coast interpretation of this might be a tad different from what happens around here?).  Anything with a white logo, bold patterns or prints is not going to get you a spot.  Bright, solid colors are suggested.  The point is to not nudge the spotlight off of the big name, red carpet types that are there    to be seen (Not you, you Nobody).  It’s an all-day operation, with a lot of standing in line and following directions; no money, but there is a free lunch.  The point is, you’re there to be anonymous but you might get to sit next to somebody cool or see something interesting—like a wardrobe malfunction.

With that thought in mind, let us recall that few of us will be “discovered” under four layers of clothing and while wiping our frostbitten noses.  Not fair but there it is.  The Polar Vortex has  ruined our career plans.

Not fair…fair and colder.