January 3: Naked
Naked girls aren't sexy. How's
that for a thesis statement? How's that for an awful way to apply for a
job at Maxim Magazine? Sounds harsh, sounds puritanical, sounds like
the antithesis of what any hot-blooded heterosexual man (albeit one who
turned 41 this very day) would think. But God help me, it's true. If you
want to turn me on, don't take your clothes off. At least not in
public.
*
Strippers don't do it for me. Porn doesn't do it for me. The girls in mini-skirts and cleavage-flashing tank tops funneling into Foxy Skanks Shooter Bar don't yank my crank either. Ladies, if your goal is to look hot then don't come knocking on Shteevie's door. If your goal is to look pretty then maybe I can fit you into my calendar so we can enjoy some Dr. Pepper and play some Othello.
*
There is a difference between pretty and hot. Pretty says "I am unique and worthy of your time and respect." Hot says "I'll have sex with you tonight if you're big enough or rich enough or whatever I'm into at the moment."
A woman's greatest attribute is mystery. If you're willing to disrobe for a group of paying customers or dudes at a frat party, you have no mystery. Nudity is best when it's for one person's eyes only. (My hero, St. Augustine, would agree.)
A girl acting in a pornographic movie is about as erotic as watching an elephant shit on a clown.
*
I just did a google image search for "pretty girl" and my screen is now filled with photographs that are as lovely as flowers. Looking at them does not inspire lust. It makes me think of what God might have been thinking when He created Eve. In the past, I've been accused of worshipping women so looking at these images could be a gateway to idolatry (ooh look there's Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift.)
Google image "hot girl" and I see a bunch of naked girls or girls in lingere. The point of 95 per cent of these pictures seems to be "Hey everyone, I have boobs!"
I would much rather get to know a girl who is dressed modestly. Seriously, the girl in the blue jeans and the red Beaver Canoe sweatshirt will get my attention before the chicky in the black lingere set.
Mind you, if a woman was dressed as Wonder Woman or a flight attendant, that would probably be a game changer.
*
I supposed I should write about the Playboy magazines I found on the roof of St. Gerard's Elementary School when I was 11. I have written about it several times and have come to think of it as one of the defining moments of my early adolesence - a talisman on the harrowing journey of losing my innocence.
There was a rumor that there were Playboys on the roof and I, being the most agile, was elected to climb up there to see if the rumor was true. The rumor was true and my search yielded not one or two but three Playboys and one Penthouse. I brought them down and certain male members of the Grade 6 class retired to my parents' house about a block away for a viewing frenzy.
There was something scary about those naked ladies - most of them incredibly old at the ages of 21 or 22. Though the nudes were photographed "in a tasteful and respectful manner," they were - to our young eyes - brazen in their nakedness. It was impossible to think of these naked ladies as good girls. I got the impression that if I were to meet them in a dark alley, they would stab me in the stomach and steal my money and then burn all of my Space Lego.
I'm glad there were no Hustler magazines on the roof of St. Gerard's. I would not have known how to deal.
*
St. Augustine once said: "Lord, grant me celibacy, only not yet."
*
Once at a Flames game, a naked guy ran around on the ice.
It was early 1998 and I was watching the Flames play the Panthers with Dessi. Halfway through the third period, a naked person jumped over the boards and started running around the ice, waving to all the people. Dessi found it hilarious. Then a security guard came out and forced the man to leave. The naked guy's picture was on the front page of the Calgary Sun the next day.
Later, Dessi said: "It's too bad he wasn't more hung."
*
Once I worked at a newspaper that did a feature on a nearby nudist colony. There was a picture of a couple, standing naked in their doorway, fully exposed. The next day, someone had sent us a copy of the page the picture was printed on. There was a handwritten note with it that said: ABSOLUTELY DISGRACEFUL. CANCEL OUR SUBSCRIPTION IMMEDIATELY.
*
I used to work at a hotel that had an adjoining strip club. Part of my duties included driving the shuttle bus to the airport to pick up flight crews that did their layovers at the hotel. Once I picked up two pilots, all in their 50s, who were complete pigs. As soon as they were in the van they were fountains of profanity, talking like a couple drunk high school seniors. They saw a young woman outside the hotel, having a cigarette.
"Is that one of the strippers?" one of the pilots asked.
I told him I believed it was. I actually knew it was because earlier that day, she had asked me to take her downtown so she could buy a Greek salad. She tipped me ten dollars. In coins.
"I want to see her naked," the pilot said. He was wearing a wedding ring.
The other pilots said the same thing.
Later, while I was working the front desk, the pilot called down to order a pay-per-view movie. It was one of the erotic ones.
Unfortunately for him, the pay-per-view movies were not working. I told him that and he promptly blew a gasket.
"WHAT TYPE OF MICKEY MOUSE ORGANIZATION ARE YOU RUNNING HERE?!" he yelled. "GET UP HERE AND FIX IT!"
I went up there to look at the TV and I had no idea what to do and the guy yelled and screamed at me some more and suggested that I was the stupidest person who ever lived. I went downstairs and reported what happened to Anna, the frumpy lady who managed the front desk. She laughed at me and ate a Twinkie.
Later, I had to drive the pilots to the strip club. The one pilot's attitude had changed. He was no longer livid but he didn't apologize to me. He didn't tip me either.
Probably needed all his money for the stripper.
I hope she used it to buy a Greek salad.
Inspiration: Dalmango Tondino.
*
Strippers don't do it for me. Porn doesn't do it for me. The girls in mini-skirts and cleavage-flashing tank tops funneling into Foxy Skanks Shooter Bar don't yank my crank either. Ladies, if your goal is to look hot then don't come knocking on Shteevie's door. If your goal is to look pretty then maybe I can fit you into my calendar so we can enjoy some Dr. Pepper and play some Othello.
*
There is a difference between pretty and hot. Pretty says "I am unique and worthy of your time and respect." Hot says "I'll have sex with you tonight if you're big enough or rich enough or whatever I'm into at the moment."
A woman's greatest attribute is mystery. If you're willing to disrobe for a group of paying customers or dudes at a frat party, you have no mystery. Nudity is best when it's for one person's eyes only. (My hero, St. Augustine, would agree.)
I would, actually.
A girl acting in a pornographic movie is about as erotic as watching an elephant shit on a clown.
*
I just did a google image search for "pretty girl" and my screen is now filled with photographs that are as lovely as flowers. Looking at them does not inspire lust. It makes me think of what God might have been thinking when He created Eve. In the past, I've been accused of worshipping women so looking at these images could be a gateway to idolatry (ooh look there's Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift.)
Google image "hot girl" and I see a bunch of naked girls or girls in lingere. The point of 95 per cent of these pictures seems to be "Hey everyone, I have boobs!"
I would much rather get to know a girl who is dressed modestly. Seriously, the girl in the blue jeans and the red Beaver Canoe sweatshirt will get my attention before the chicky in the black lingere set.
Mind you, if a woman was dressed as Wonder Woman or a flight attendant, that would probably be a game changer.
Wow. This is the first time in history my picture has appeared with St. Augustine's.
*
I supposed I should write about the Playboy magazines I found on the roof of St. Gerard's Elementary School when I was 11. I have written about it several times and have come to think of it as one of the defining moments of my early adolesence - a talisman on the harrowing journey of losing my innocence.
There was a rumor that there were Playboys on the roof and I, being the most agile, was elected to climb up there to see if the rumor was true. The rumor was true and my search yielded not one or two but three Playboys and one Penthouse. I brought them down and certain male members of the Grade 6 class retired to my parents' house about a block away for a viewing frenzy.
There was something scary about those naked ladies - most of them incredibly old at the ages of 21 or 22. Though the nudes were photographed "in a tasteful and respectful manner," they were - to our young eyes - brazen in their nakedness. It was impossible to think of these naked ladies as good girls. I got the impression that if I were to meet them in a dark alley, they would stab me in the stomach and steal my money and then burn all of my Space Lego.
I'm glad there were no Hustler magazines on the roof of St. Gerard's. I would not have known how to deal.
*
St. Augustine once said: "Lord, grant me celibacy, only not yet."
*
Once at a Flames game, a naked guy ran around on the ice.
It was early 1998 and I was watching the Flames play the Panthers with Dessi. Halfway through the third period, a naked person jumped over the boards and started running around the ice, waving to all the people. Dessi found it hilarious. Then a security guard came out and forced the man to leave. The naked guy's picture was on the front page of the Calgary Sun the next day.
Later, Dessi said: "It's too bad he wasn't more hung."
*
Once I worked at a newspaper that did a feature on a nearby nudist colony. There was a picture of a couple, standing naked in their doorway, fully exposed. The next day, someone had sent us a copy of the page the picture was printed on. There was a handwritten note with it that said: ABSOLUTELY DISGRACEFUL. CANCEL OUR SUBSCRIPTION IMMEDIATELY.
*
I used to work at a hotel that had an adjoining strip club. Part of my duties included driving the shuttle bus to the airport to pick up flight crews that did their layovers at the hotel. Once I picked up two pilots, all in their 50s, who were complete pigs. As soon as they were in the van they were fountains of profanity, talking like a couple drunk high school seniors. They saw a young woman outside the hotel, having a cigarette.
"Is that one of the strippers?" one of the pilots asked.
I told him I believed it was. I actually knew it was because earlier that day, she had asked me to take her downtown so she could buy a Greek salad. She tipped me ten dollars. In coins.
"I want to see her naked," the pilot said. He was wearing a wedding ring.
The other pilots said the same thing.
Later, while I was working the front desk, the pilot called down to order a pay-per-view movie. It was one of the erotic ones.
Unfortunately for him, the pay-per-view movies were not working. I told him that and he promptly blew a gasket.
"WHAT TYPE OF MICKEY MOUSE ORGANIZATION ARE YOU RUNNING HERE?!" he yelled. "GET UP HERE AND FIX IT!"
I went up there to look at the TV and I had no idea what to do and the guy yelled and screamed at me some more and suggested that I was the stupidest person who ever lived. I went downstairs and reported what happened to Anna, the frumpy lady who managed the front desk. She laughed at me and ate a Twinkie.
Later, I had to drive the pilots to the strip club. The one pilot's attitude had changed. He was no longer livid but he didn't apologize to me. He didn't tip me either.
Probably needed all his money for the stripper.
I hope she used it to buy a Greek salad.
Inspiration: Dalmango Tondino.
Comments
Post a Comment