Kimopolis

My kind of town.

Archive for January, 2009

« Previous Entries

Beauty is in the Eyebrow of the Beholder

Posted by kimlno on January 23, 2009

manray-tears-1930Being a woman requires a certain amount of maintenance. Even ladies who consider themselves “low maintenance” still require a few basic touch-ups on a regular basis. These usually involve shaving, hairstyle up-keep, manicures/pedicures, and the use of cosmetics. Some women, usually those who have oodles of free time on their hands for one reason or another, go to much greater lengths to keep themselves beautiful. Such activities include facials, massages, waxing or anything else that can be ordered off the Burke-Williams menu. I mean, who doesn’t like a nice massage now and again? However, there are a number of aesthetic procedures I abhor, and I don’t understand anyone who thinks that the following items make you more attractive to the opposite sex. They are (in no particular order):

Acrylic Nails. And no, a French Tip manicure does not make them any more classy.

Hair Extensions. I don’t care if they’re weaved or glued or just an extra piece you clipped in to give your hair more volume, you look like a cheap whore. Hair problems? Wear a hat.

Spray-on Tans. With the rising popularity of “Dancing with the Stars” and, to a lesser extent, “The Real Housewives of Orange County,” more and more people have become a slave to the spray tan. True, the spray tan is a healthy alternative to tanning beds or sun worshiping, but some people go too far. I’ve witnessed both men and women go so far as to apply subtle shading techniques to accentuate their six-pack. Others carry their own spray tan kit and take it with them wherever they go.

Look, I understand if you don’t want to have tan lines for your wedding or some other auspicious occasion that will be documented photographically for all time. But getting a spray tan on a regular basis is dangerous. Not unlike mainlining heroin, the spray tan tempts the user to get a little bit darker each session. You may start with Tahitian Princess, but eventually you will settle for no less than St. Tropic Sun Goddess. Your tanning judgment will be permanently skewed and eventually an intervention will have to occur. This is right around the time when your own grandma doesn’t recognize you anymore, and new friends will not be able to identify you in old family pictures.

Breast Augmentation. Yes, your boobs CAN be too big. And, please for all that is holy, STOP ASKING PEOPLE TO TOUCH THEM. No woman with the boobs God gave her will EVER ask a casual acquaintance to feel her up. So, the whole, “They’re-REAL-Touch-Them Argument” only assures others that you have DEFINITELY had your boobs done. Unless you are a stripper, a hooker, a porn star, or a transvestite, you have no business sporting a pair of fake double Ds.

Botox. Ladies, despite all rumors to the contrary, Botox is not your friend. Botulinum toxin is one of the MOST LETHAL NATURALLY OCCURRING SUBSTANCES KNOWN TO MAN, yet it is still widely used for cosmetic purposes in a purified and isolated form. So, NO, it is not okay to carry around a syringe full of poison just in case you need a quick touch-up. It doesn’t make you look more attractive, it just makes you look like you belong on display at Madame Toussaud’s.

However, putting all of those unforgivable crimes against beauty aside, the single worst infraction that immediately tells everyone exactly what type of woman you are, is your eyebrows. When it comes to eyebrows, there IS such a thing as too thin. At no time should your eyebrow assume the shape of a comma or a tepee. Shaving your eyebrows off and then using eyebrow pencil to draw them on is also not okay. Here are a few excellent examples of what your eyebrows should NEVER look like:

Cat Eyebrow

Cat Brow

Comma Brow

Comma Brow

Flower Brow

Flower Brow

Maybe some of you aren’t aware that the eyebrows are not just ornamental. We have eyebrows for a reason. The main function of the eyebrow is to prevent moisture, mostly salty sweat and rain, from flowing into the eye. The typical curved shape of the eyebrow (with a slant on the side) and the direction in which eyebrow hairs are pointed, make sure that moisture has a tendency to flow sideways around the eyes, along the side of the head and along the nose. Eyebrows also prevent debris such as dandruff and other small objects from falling into the eyes, as well as providing a more sensitive sense for detecting objects being near the eye, like small insects. Eyebrows have an important job to do and messing around with them too much is potentially hazardous to your ocular health.

To be honest, there was a time when I didn’t give a hoot about eyebrows. Heck, I didn’t even notice them. They were a non-entity. I lived in ignorant bliss, and life was good. All of that changed one ill-fated evening at my cousin’s house. My “friend” Kristy casually mentioned that my eyebrows could use some “shaping.” Before the word “OK” had escaped my lips, Kristy began to tweeze. Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in Because I Said So | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Tom Hatten: The Man, the Myth, the Legend

Posted by kimlno on January 18, 2009

Popeye and Tom Hatten

Popeye and Tom Hatten

Growing up, one of my all-time favorite TV show was “Popeye and Friends,” hosted by the wonderful Tom Hatten. Tom was a great host, and he never gave off any creepy vibes like some of his other contemporaries. Mr. Rogers was always smiling, but it felt forced, fake somehow (Tyra would claim he didn’t “smile with his eyes”). Not to mention, he had those frightening little puppets (not a big fan of the puppets), and he always spoke to his audience like we were mentally challenged. The other big Kid’s TV host was Captain Kangaroo. Now, ol’ Cappy was a little less disturbing than Mr. Rogers, but he always seemed to me like he was drunk. Mr. Greenjeans, on the other hand, well, I just never really trusted adults who wore overalls (Deliverance, anyone?).

“Popeye and Friends” aired every Sunday morning on KTLA Channel 5 (thank God my parents weren’t religious, or else instead of sitting in front of the boob tube in my pajamas enjoying a deliciously warm, chocolately Pop-Tart, I would have been in church…LAME). Although the show obviously featured many classic “Popeye” cartoons (the good ones drawn by Max Fleischer), they also featured other cartoons like “Tom Slick,” “Super Chicken,” and “George of the Jungle.”

Between cartoons, Tom would sit at his drafting table, and while sharing ‘toon trivia, he would teach us, the viewers at home, how to draw various characters. It was amazing to watch him create, with just a pen and paper, all the cartoon character stars. He made it look SO easy. This guy put Bob Ross to shame (sorry, Bob…Happy Trees!). Tom always encouraged his young viewers to send him letters and include their drawings, and each week he’d grab his big canvas mail bag and share a few of the letters that he had received. But, by far, my favorite part of the show was “The Squiggle Game.” Tom would dig deep into his Squiggle mail bag, and pull out an envelope at random which contained a squiggle or a doodle sent in by one of his viewers. Then, with what could only be some sort of magical pen, because I could never duplicate anything he drew, Tom would transform that squiggle into an actual drawing. It was so COOL. I told you, this guy was the bomb.

When the musical “Annie” came into town in 1978, my mom bought us tickets. Although, I was excited to see the show (because I had that soundtrack memorized, naturally), mostly I was totally stoked to see Tom Hatten play the role of “Franklin Delano Roosevelt.” After the show, I finally felt like I had a reason to send Tom a “fan” letter. Sadly, even though I watched every week with fingers crossed, Tom never read my letter on the air. However, because Tom was probably the coolest guy on the planet (and, dare I say, still is), he did write me back.

My Letter from Tom Hatten

My Letter from Tom Hatten

I was over the moon. You see, one year earlier, I had a somewhat less successful encounter with a television celebrity. But that story will have to wait for another day. Thank you, Tom Hatten, for hosting an awesome show and for being an all around good guy. You ROCK!

Posted in Sharing Is Caring | Tagged: , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Gunter Glieben Glauten Globen

Posted by kimlno on January 13, 2009

Hysteria

Hysteria

The first, and by far the best, birthday present I ever received from a boyfriend was a pair of tickets to Def Leppard’s Hysteria Tour ’87. Tesla was the opening act. I was totally stoked, and, baby I’M NOT FOOLIN’. When the night of the concert came, it didn’t matter that I had to drive. Or that joining my boyfriend and me was his much younger neighbor, and his much younger friend. I was ready to ROCKET, baby*. To get adequately fired up for the show, we listened to Metallica the entire drive to the L.A. Sports Arena, except for one song, Whitesnake’s “Still of the Night.” My boyfriend, who always rode shotgun and therefore was the official DJ for every car ride, had discovered that if he slipped in the Whitesnake tape when I wasn’t looking (which was often because I was DRIVING), and then, turned the volume dial all the way to 11 (because it’s one louder), he could scare the living shit out of me with the opening chord. He thought it was HYSTERICAL (oh, can you feel it?). I’m pretty sure that was one of the reasons we broke up. Oh, and the fact that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. LOVE BITES. ANYonearmeddrummer, once we parked, it was time to covertly consume all the drugs and alcohol we had managed to scrape together. When we were sufficiently blitzed, we went in. Leppard did not disappoint.

At the time, I was working at Crown Books in the ‘sades. I had some rather interesting (read: creepy) co-workers. One of my co-workers, his name escapes me but let’s call him “Gabe,” was a hardcore metalhead. He listened to bands like Anthrax, Slayer, and Megadeth. And I don’t think he owned a t-shirt that wasn’t purchased at a concert. They were always black and usually had some terrifying image of a skull or a corpse emblazoned across the front, along with the band’s name, and the name of the tour or album they were promoting. So, aside from having horrifying imagery, his t-shirts had words like “bloody,” “Satan,” “death,” “gore,” and my personal favorite, “doom” spattered boldly across his chest. Gabe didn’t smile much, he smelled like an ashtray, and he always had suspiciously dark circles under his eyes.

Mostly Gabe hid in the stacks, checking inventory. His affinity for tour tees freaked most of our customers out, so it was a rare occasion that he worked the register with me. However, it was the beginning of the holiday rush, so all hands were needed up front. During a lull, I took the opportunity to tell Gabe about my Def Leppard tickets, and asked his opinion of the band. In my defense, I was only 16 and he was probably in his early 20s, and I honestly believed that telling him about the tickets would make me look COOLER. Instead, he looked at me like I had just pulled out a 10″ Bowie knife from under the register, and started stabbing him repeatedly in the chest. His expression morphed from shock to disbelief to rage and finally to acceptance. I know now that he took pity on me when he replied, “I don’t know much about them. Photograph is a good song, though.”

And with that, a Metal Chick was born.

*Maybe it’s because they are British, but Def Leppard has some of the most unintelligible lyrics of any band, ever. For instance, the lyrics for the song “Rocket” are: “Rocket, yeah, satellite of love.” Up until the moment I wrote this, I had no idea “satellite of love” was what they were singing. I improvised something different every time I sang along, but mostly it resembled “say de lie dee loo-oo.” I know, it makes no sense, but then again, neither does satellite of love.

Posted in You Don't See THAT Every Day | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

I’m A Barbie Girl, In A Barbie World

Posted by kimlno on January 11, 2009

The Barbie Styling Head

The Barbie Styling Head

Way back when I was a little girl, when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth, I wanted a Barbie Styling Head more than anything in the whole wide world (think Ralphie’s single-minded pursuit of an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle and multiply by a million). For those of you not familiar with the Barbie Styling Head, allow me to attempt to capture the awesomeness that is the BSH. Essentially, it’s the single best element of Barbie (aside from her wardrobe) without any of the other distractions, her hair. Plus, the BSH was about, oh, I don’t know, ten times bigger than Barbie’s real head. Bigger head = MORE HAIR. As if that weren’t enough to curl any little girl’s toes, she came with oodles of hair accessories, jewelry, and cosmetics that you could use, too. I get a little lightheaded just thinking about all the different ways the BSH could be transformed. As far as I was concerned, the BSH was the best toy ever invented.

To be honest, and anyone who knew me back then can attest to the legitimacy of this claim, I had a LOT of Barbie paraphernalia. I had the Barbie corvette (pink, natch), the Barbie Dream Home (which was so large it took up a third of my bedroom), the Barbie Pool (sadly, after the accidental flood of ’78, I was no longer allowed to fill with water), the Barbie Camper (not the good one, but the original cheap version that was basically cardboard covered in plastic so the door would never stay closed*), not to mention at least 10 Barbies, a Ken doll, and a Skipper. Why only one Ken, you ask? Well, Ken just wasn’t as much fun as Barbie. His clothes were pretty lame, and you couldn’t brush and style his hair. Besides, my Barbie fantasy world only required one Ken to satisfy all the ladies.

Admittedly, I was a Barbie-aholic. So, when I put the request in to Santa for a Barbie Styling Head, and I didn’t get it, I was shocked and saddened. Why? Hadn’t I been a good girl? Didn’t I deserve that Barbie head? When I asked my mom why Santa was being such a stingy asshole, she informed me that Santa thought the Barbie head, sans body, was kinda creepy. Plus, she pointed out that since I had a reputation for cutting off all of my Barbie’s hair, once I had done that to the head, it would be of no use to me anymore. I think it had more to do with the fact that the Barbie head came with makeup and for some reason my mom thought that it was inappropriate for an 8-year-old to play with makeup. Funny, grandma never seemed to mind if I played with makeup at HER house. But then again, grandma also let me pretend to be a waitress and serve her beers and Better Cheddars while she relaxed on the chaise lounge in the back yard. Hey, it was MY idea.

Anymygrandma’ssocoolshedrinksbeerstraightfromthecan, I never did get a Barbie Styling Head. No one knows for sure how much irreversible damage was caused by the absence of the BSH in my life, as it cannot be measured with today’s existing technology. However, I’d be willing to bet it’s right up there with everyone thinking I was a boy because I had short hair until I was 10 (including once when I was wearing pearl earrings…what boy wears PEARL EARRINGS?!?), and not being allowed to own a pair of jelly shoes unless I swore to wear them with socks (I ask you, who wore jelly shoes with socks?!?). Who knows what kind of woman I would be today if Santa HAD granted my wish? No one will ever know, but it is my cross to bear.

*Note: On Christmas morning of 1976, both my cousin Cathy AND my cousin Mandy received the new and improved Barbie Camper, and I did not. This is still a point of bitter contention between Santa and me, and I have never forgiven him.

Posted in I'd Buy That For A Dollar | Tagged: , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Stalker? I Barely Know Her!

Posted by kimlno on January 4, 2009

The Original Lillolman.

The Original Lillolman

I have a bona fide stalker. Sure, he’s a septuagenarian, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. Night or day. Summer or winter. Rain or shine. He is there. I see him whenever I leave the house on foot, which is frequently because it would be ridiculous to drive. I only live about a block away from every major store, market, gas station, restaurant, and bank in the Palisades. Besides, if I didn’t force myself to go out of the house now and again, I’d be a shut-in.

AnyIhavenolifebutlet’spretendyoudidn’tnotice, if I had a dollar for every time I see this man, I would be a freakin’ millionaire (and I could stop regaling my reading audience with all the silly nuances of my life). The only person I see more often is the UPS guy, and that’s because I am addicted to internet shopping, but that’s a story for another day. Seeing this old guy, without fail, has become so completely ridiculous, that I make little bets with myself, or if I am with someone, with them, as to where exactly I will run into the little old man or “Lillolman,” as I have come to call him.

Now, you’re probably wondering how I know it’s the same guy. Well, the first time Lillolman walked into my life was during a midday lap swim a few years back…when we still had a pool. Anybody who has ever participated in lap swim knows the sheer bliss experienced when you have the lane all to yourself. It’s almost better than sex. Second to having your very own lane to yourself, is sharing or “splitting” the lane. Splitting is only feasible when two, and only two, swimmers occupy the lane, one taking the left side and the other the right side. Never, ever, while splitting a lane, do you swim on the other person’s side of the lane. Not only is it considered rude, and poor pool etiquette, it’s dangerous. I’ve participated in a few head-on collisions and it isn’t pretty. And that’s where Lillolman comes into the picture. Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in You Don't See THAT Every Day | Tagged: , , , , | Leave a Comment »

« Previous Entries