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Tag Archives: beauty

Get On With The Creature!

I had great hopes for Wasp Woman (1959). The title seemed to promise a monster. I knew they might slough me off with a big bunch of insects, but I was willing to take that chance. When I saw Roger Corman’s name in the credits, I felt certain I had made a wise decision.

Spoiler Alert! I will give away some plot developments, but not all. Still, more than I would want to know, so I warn you.

The movie opens with predators of a different kind, in a corporate board room. A hard-nosed businesswoman is putting her board through the wringer on declining sales. A good-looking young man jumps up and in arrogant leading-man fashion blames her. It is a cosmetics company, you see, and she has always been its “face.” Now that the face has changed, customers do not trust it.

Snap! Why didn’t you just say, “It’s your fault, because you got so old and ugly!” Incidentally, she’s neither. She’s not young and chipper, but I should look so good in my 40s (I’m still in my 40s for at least another month, so shut up!). Obviously the movie is setting her up to take extreme measures to look young and beautiful. Naturally this will lead to trouble.

I can’t help noticing that the quest to keep a woman young and beautiful forms the catalyst for a number of horror movies. I like best the ones where they have to kill authentically young and beautiful women to do it. Oh dear, that didn’t sound very nice. I only meant that those were the most horrifying and in general the cheesiest. I think woman’s quest for beauty and man’s role in aiding and abetting is a ripe topic for some serious commentary, if I was that sort of a blogger. Being the sort of blogger I am, I may mine the topic for some half-baked philosophy one Lame Post Friday.

Where was I? Ah yes, with Cosmetic CEO ready to fund some highly risky experiments involving wasps. They provide some background on what terrible creatures wasps are, especially the queen, and the supposed scientific basis for the experiments. I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention. You know in these pictures the science is going to be spurious; I say just get on to the creature.

It takes a while for the Wasp Woman to show up, and she’s a pretty good movie monster. I wish she had gotten more screen time. Before the creature shows up we have to go through the mad scientist (he is actually a rather sweet old man) convincing CEO to fund him, then watch him work, progressing too slowly to suit CEO. Of course she experiments by giving herself extra injections.

She doesn’t see a kitten, previously rejuvenated from an old tabby, go crazy and attack the mad scientist. He gets hit by a car and goes into a coma before he can either perfect the formula or warn anybody about what happened to the cat (he kills the cat, by the way; it might have been fun to have several wasp-infused creatures running around but I guess that’s just me, always wanting more).

The hero — remember, arrogant guy from scene 1? — and his love interest — CEO’s secretary — are, not surprisingly, pretty boring. There’s another guy who always has a pipe in his mouth and gets to have a little more character. My favorites were the two brassy secretaries. I was a little worried over who would end up being wasp food, but the body count wasn’t too high (which could be a good or a bad thing, depending).

It’s a pretty fun movie. I recommend it. If you watch it and have a discussion on the feminist implications, please let me know what conclusions you draw.

Hair Today

Well, today is the day. This afternoon, I get shaved as part of a St. Baldrick’s Day event to raise money for children’s cancer research. I begged for donations and got quite a few. Now I’d like to take a few words to honor my hair while it’s still on my head.

I have almost always disliked my hair. That’s pretty typical, I think. Most of us wish we looked different from what we do. People with curly hair want straight and vice versa. Tall people long to be petite, while us shorties envy the statuesque. Oh dear, now I’m getting into half-baked philosophy and it isn’t Lame Post Friday. I’ll stop now.

As a child I had blond hair, very straight. I remember once when my hair was freshly washed and dry, my mother said, “Cindy has hair like an angel.” My dad replied, “Too bad she doesn’t have disposition to match.” The sad thing was, even my hair was not angelic on a regular basis, but let’s not continue with that memory.

In the ’80s (the 1980s, wise guy) (you know who you are), I discovered the miracle of permanents. I went curly. Recently a high school friend posted an old yearbook picture on Facebook. Look at all that hair! I’m a little sorry I don’t know how to add the picture here, but only a little. Why would I want to remind everybody that I used to be much skinnier and cuter than I am now?

I think my favorite way to wear my hair is short and spiky, which look I rocked from the late ’90s till about a year ago. For the past 10 months or so I’ve been growing it out in anticipation of the shave. I’m quite excited to finally have it done.

If anybody wants to make a last minute contribution in honor of my bald pate, here once again is my participant website: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/642777/2013.

Me and Joan Crawford

The Mohawk Valley experienced some very cold temperatures yesterday. My place of employment became rather uncomfortable.

Regular readers (and WordPress tells me I have a few) know that I rarely blog about my work. It’s not that kind of a blog, and I don’t want to get in trouble with management (go ahead, call me a chicken). Well, this isn’t really about work.

I work in an old building, actually a series of old buildings all kind of hooked together. It is not very well insulated. The temperature varies from building to building and from section to section within each building. Guess which section in which building was the coldest. I suppose I can’t say for sure it was mine, because it’s really too big a place to check the whole thing out, but in my limited perambulations, where I work was cold.

Then I remembered: Joan Crawford. Joan Crawford always insisted that the sets of her movies be kept at cold temperatures, because it made the skin on her face tighter and minimized the appearance of wrinkles. I wash my face in cold water most mornings for that reason. Joan used to stick her face in a sink full of ice cubes, but that would involve a trip down to the kitchen for me and I’m too lazy to be beautiful.

Once I remembered Joan Crawford and her little beauty trick, I felt much better about everything. Of course I had to share my happiness, so I went and found my friend Sally and explained the whole thing to her.

“We’re glamorous!” I assured her. She was suitably impressed. I went back to work refreshed.

A short time later, I heard a voice exclaim, “Hey, isn’t that Joan Crawford?” It was Harry, a mutual friend of mine and Sally’s. “Wow! I thought it was Joan Crawford!”

I burst out laughing. I don’t suppose I’m hideous, but despite my earlier assurances to Sally, it was not one of my more glamorous moments. For one thing, I was wearing my knitted toque against the cold. No lipstick. My blue collar clothes of BDU pants, a t-shirt and steel toed work boots. He kept assuring me he thought it was Joan Crawford and I kept laughing. Afterwards I reflected, Harry is much younger than me. I’m not sure he knows who Joan Crawford is; he may have thought I meant Joan Collins.

The next time I had occasion to talk to Sally, I said, “I have so much in common with Joan Crawford!” She confessed to sharing my remarks with Harry, and told me a few silly things Harry had said about an unrelated topic (subject for another blog post? Watch out, Harry!).

Sometime later, I looked across at Harry and Sally and saw them pointing and laughing. I went over and demanded an explanation. It seems they were in the middle of a conversation when Harry had interrupted himself to say, “Oh my God, it’s Joan Crawford!” and I chose that moment to let out a huge, head-splitting yawn. Like I said, not my most glamorous day.

So today I told both Sally and Harry that I intended to use the episode for a blog post. I said regular readers may remember them as candidates for the role of French maid in a previous post. Harry’s one regret was that he had not picked more imaginative aliases. Perhaps Buttercup and Westley.

In conclusion, I think now we all know why I so rarely blog about my work. Happy Friday, everyone.

More About My Toes

I mentioned in passing a couple of times that I had gotten a pedicure. I thought I’d say a little more about it today.

I’d been wanting to get one for a while now. My last pedicure was self-administered and it did not turn out so well to begin with. By last week the polish was chipped and grown out in a disgraceful fashion, and I was getting an uncomfortable ingrown toenail.

For anyone who is about to scream, “TMI!” Oh, just be quiet. You must know I hate that expression, and why shouldn’t I talk about my toes? This is a personal blog, after all. If you don’t like it, just don’t read me. (Then again, maybe nobody was about to scream anything and I should just get over myself.)

Where was I? Ah yes, calling the Hot Spot Salon and Spa for an appointment. I worked till eleven on Saturday. Claire had an opening at 12:30. As soon as I had made the appointment, I started second guessing myself (what a surprise).

“Shouldn’t I go running rather than get a pedicure?” I asked some co-workers.

“Go for a short run first,” one of them suggested. “The pedicure will feel really good then.”

This was good advice, but I was worried I would not have time to put on running clothes, run, go for cooldown walk with Tabby, shower, find thong sandals (they are not flip flops; flip flops are shower shoes), get to the Hot Spot. However, I felt I did have time to change shoes, take Tabby for a nice walk, shower, find sandals, get to the Hot Spot. Hmm… It doesn’t sound like so much less when I write it, but it felt a lot more relaxed at the time.

I was glad I got the pedicure. I picked a lovely shade of deep orange, a real harvest color. I was so pleased with it, I wore sandals for the rest of the day. And I went for a run on Sunday, so everybody can be happy.

The Hot Spot Salon and Spa is located at 121 E. Albany St., Herkimer, NY 13350, phone 315-866-9113. They are open Monday through Friday from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., Saturday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Sunday from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.