Casting a web

Well, it’s come to this. I made myself an online personals ad. Don’t think that this is an act of desperation. It is not. I was inspired by Amy Fisher, I recently read that she just married the father of her child, a man she met through match.com. Can you believe it? Through the magic of the internet ordinary people have the opportunity to unknowingly meet and eventually marry the likes of Amy Fisher.

It was Amy Fisher and the inevitable cagy feeling that follows a one night stand. I don’t mean that initial urge to make a break for the door. I don’t mean the day after either. The day after is usually a good one, sometimes even two days after I’m left with a triumphant glow, a combination of feeling like a suave conqueror and having done something that I will be keeping secret from my co-workers. The nervousness sinks in later.

Innocence is a funny thing. Until you are acquainted with an experience you don’t even realize what it means to go through such a thing, you assumed you had some idea, but you didn’t. When it happens you say to yourself here is something that I previously could not fathom. Oftentimes this feeling is a bad one, things one would be glad to have remained in the dark about.

Some months ago the term feminine itching gained new meaning for me, it was no longer lingo confined to ads featuring stiff ladies with TV anchor hair and bullet proof smiles. The standard horror of infection was made worse by the fact that this seemed to confirm by usual post-post one night stand fears of venereal disease. I’m dying I thought, or something worse…life long humiliation, forced celibacy, this is my bad karma for laughing every time the ad for herpes medication comes on TV.

Mom, if you happen to be reading this, rest assured it turned out to merely be the result of nylon underpants and a five hour bus ride. But this new experience left me knowing one more reason why it can suck to be a girl. This and other factors have led me to the conclusion that it is nearly impossible for straight girls to take on the role of conquistador. Besides, the novelty of making introductions from bed the following morning is starting to wear off. I’ve decided to go traditional.

From now on I want more than a few drinks and a game of pool, I want dinners, hand holding, and most of all a phone call. Such requests are difficult to make when you’re drunk and horny and you’re not looking forward to the hour train ride back to your apartment. I like the idea of screening boys before even saying hello. It’s delightfully passive aggressive.

Thus far I’ve been winked at by two total weirdoes. One was a guy who posed for his photo holding a stuffed animal and in his answers to almost all the questions refer to the future time with he and the reader might be having sex or at least kissing and that “Kiera Knightly is sexy, but the reader is (hopefully) sexier”. The great thing is there’s no pressure to pay him any mind. No need to awkwardly decline his advances. Best of all it makes me feel secure knowing that day and night I have the internet working for me. The computer me can be out there charming the world while I sit on my ass eating potato chips and laughing at herpes commercials.

So Po-Mo, dude

Speaking of confusing nostalgia for mainstream celebrity crushes, I just saw The Rules of Attraction. Finally someone has made a college movie that can rival the long honored canon of films about high school. Brilliantly it stars the protagonist from the corniest high school television drama ever made: Dawson.

At times this film was so dead-on it was eerie. The mailroom, in particular, so perfectly identical to that of Sarah Lawrence it gave me the chills. You don’t even want to know how hard I cringed at mention of the Dress to Get Screwed Party. There was an amazing scene with Fred Savage and Dawson. Makes you realize that we're no more real than these tv icons, remember Alex Mac and the guy from Mighty Ducks? Misti's recent appearances on Joan of Arcadia.

And of course there was the actual Sarah Lawrence character, which it turned out, did not sum up every overplayed joke about the school, but was instead an uncanny sketch of the most unexpected SLC person of all. The combination of untouchable suaveness and ape-with-tourett’s table manner bore uncanny similarity to the one and only Jason Rosen. It seemed utterly impossible, how could some one so over the top and one of a kind be so easily turned into a type? J-Ro, have you been having secret rendezvous’ at the Cock with Bret Easton Ellis all these four years? Or is life really one enormous cliché?

Bradiffer No More

Late Breaking News:
I’m told this came from a “reliable source”. Apparently Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt are on the verge of a DIVORCE!

Theories:
-It’s been said that Brad is currently sleeping with Angelina JoliE (good for her, I thought she only did freaky old men).

-Don’t be fooled by those charming dimples, Brad has been quoted as saying that he thinks Jen would give him a day pass for Britney Spears.

-How the Media Tore Them Apart. Remember the Bennifer excuse? I can see it now: All that speculation about Jen’s infertility was simply too much strain on their marriage. They considered adopting, but Brad insisted that if the baby’s face didn’t reflect his own there wasn’t much point in having one. He invested in one of those super magnified shaving mirrors, packed up his things and left.

-It was a career marriage and now that friends is over Brad has started courting Misha Barton from the O.C.

-They discovered that they are actually twins separated at birth; they didn’t discover their own incestuous secret until it was too late: the baby was born with three arms and a harelip!

-The twin theory is somewhat discounted by news that Jennifer has had a nose job. Perhaps Brad found out what her former nose looked like and now refuses to mate with her.

Perhaps I’m being a bit too harsh on Jen, but recently I’ve been thinking about Brad Pitt. Although I was critical when he fist came on the scene, calling him things like Brad Armpit (I was ten, ok?) I’ve come to realize that he truly does qualify as a Super Hunk, in fact when you consider his contemporaries it’s clear that Brad is The Super Hunk, he has outlasted them all.

Let’s break it down, shall we?

Tom Cruise: old/a cult member

Christian Slater: on drugs?

Remember Interview with a Vampire, how it was supposed to be all about these hot guys and thirteen year-old Kirsten Dunst. I was fourteen at the time and I didn’t see the film, but I tell you, that Nobody--Kirsten Dunst--was already living out every one of our junior high fantasies. It turned out that unlike Brad, Tom and Christian were already over the hill at that point.

Leonardo Dicaprio: fat/haggard

Chris O’Donnell: Was he ever actually popular? I think he probably had a cousin who worked for YM or something.

Ethan Hawk: Proved to be too much of a dick after getting Uma Preggers and not even offering to marry her. The nerve!

Luke Perry: That attempt at a film career was a sad thing to witness. As soon as his hair went flat so did everything else.

Jason Priestley: Tru Calling? Please, at this point he’s nothing but an aged gay.

Johnny Depp: Still insanely hot, but he has proved to be more of an artisté than a hunk.

Edward Furlong: Where oh where did you go? Although the guy who replaced you in T3 was pretty hot.... After marrying his 27 year-old on set tutor Eddie just disappeared. Or was it Pecker that did him in?

Anyway, the point is Brad has outlasted them all and those dimples that perma-tan just jump right out at me every time I see that add for Troy. Brad Armpit I heart you.