Recently, I was staying over with my best girlfriend and we were getting ready for a night out together, like we were in high school. (We are not in high school, or, at least, I’m not. I wouldn’t ask her age, because that’s rude, but she never seems to do any homework, and she drinks, so she’s either an adult or a bad student.)
“And I haven’t waxed my bush in weeks, so, you know” she said, pulling a high ponytail through an elastic, “that keeps me from going home with anyone.”
I couldn’t keep my face from scrunching up as I asked her, “What? Why?”
“Oh, you know…”she said, “I just wouldn’t want anyone to see it like that.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“You know. It’s a mess.”
“Well, you know,” I replied, a little annoyed, “my bush is so old-school it once beat Billie Jean King at tennis, and nobody has ever complained about it.” She looked at me with a look of shock and disbelief, but it’s true. I’ve been naked in front of lots of people, I mean a lot, (sorry mom), and the response to my hair has either been positive or no stated opinion, according to the exit polls.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Body hair is 100% a personal decision and whatever you choose to do with it is A-OK, but there was a cultural moment when it felt compulsory- I understand that if you do sex work, deforestation is part of the uniform, but does every barista and blogger HAVE to go full Vin Diesel? But it is, no pun intended- a touchy subject.
In the 1900’s, only art models and prostitutes (and let’s face it- many times the same people) got rid of their pubic hair, and because of this, the pre-Raphaelite artist John Ruskin was totally unprepared for his wife’s hair on their wedding night and was unable to perform sexually. She went crying to a doctor, was told that she was perfectly normal and lovely, and left her unconsummated marriage and married another painter friend of his who thought her pubis was nice.
It’s been in vogue for so long, it seems like the Brazilian has always been the dominant geographic region affecting our areas-but the fact, Americans left their sites untouched for years and years, until the bikini was introduced in the 50’s. The swimsuit was named after the A-bomb testing site in the Bikini Atoll, and it was like a bomb was dropped on natural bush.
In the 70’s, women burned their bras and let themselves grow free, but in the 80’s we had maillot one-pieces and Donna Karan bodysuits and women adopted the “landing strip” look- flattering for lots of fashions, but still delineating one from a prepubescent. Hard-edged, graphic, it was probably what the ladies in the Nagel drawings had, if we ever saw a naked one.
It’s Springtime, when the earth renews itself and mating season begins for many animals!
People go on dates and remember that sex and dating can be hard.
It can wear you out emotionally.
But at least you can physically survive it- not like in many parts of the animal kingdom.
Here’s a list of animals that die for sex- to remind you that things could be worse!
Oftentimes, the female praying mantis bites the head off her mate while they have sex, and apparently the male thrusts more vigorously after he’s dead, making the sex more likely to generate progeny. (This is probably not true of human men.)
Remember that the next time a woman you’ve exchanged a week of flirty text messages with flat doesn’t show up at an Italian restaurant and won’t call you back- you might leave with your head hanging down, but at least it’s still attached.
This very cute ratlike Australian marsupial, goes on a mad sex parade with multiple partners for up to 14 hours and then drops dead of exhaustion. There are advantages to this, for example- he doesn’t have the opportunity to get in trouble with any of the multiple cute ratlike partners he had sex with in the same half-day, but on the other hand the Antechinus never meets his children, nor coaches them in Soccer, which he would call Football, because he’s from Australia.
That’s better than the time you went on a drinks-filled double date with your best friend Allison and your boyfriend’s roommate, and she came home with him, but after you’d left for your house, she snuck into the other bedroom and did your boyfriend as well. Right? Still better than the cute little dead sex rat. And you don’t have to speak to Allison ever again.
The Dark Fishing Spider
He dies of natural causes after he mates with his lady- ejaculating makes his blood go bad. Nature wants him to die immediately after he has sex, which is one reason insects don’t masturbate.
This helps you understand that you’re still better off than a dead spider, even after you’ve been seeing someone you’re crazy about for a couple of months and came to find out he was also dating most of the women you know, and you were all in a weird sad sisterhood of women getting identical flirty text messages and photographs from him, which is why they were always non-sequiturs.
Furcifer Labordi Chameleons
These Chameleons mate furiously and violently, then after the eggs are safely inseminated and laid, they both die. No-one is left to tell the tale of their passionate romance, no-one is left to mourn their death or wear black, or just turn black, because they are a Chameleon.
That means the time you stopped hearing from someone you’d been seeing for six months and thought you were in love with, and you couldn’t get him on the phone or online, and you assumed he’d gone to prison or rehab and cried anxious tears and couldn’t concentrate on work, and two weeks later you saw him on Facebook tagged in a picture at a bar from that day and you realize you’d just been garden-variety dumped, that’s better than dying postcoitally as a couple. Probably.
Male Orb Weaving spiders
These spiders die while still joined with the female, so that while she is pregnant with his offspring, other dude spiders can’t have sex with her because she has another dude’s body sticking out of her. It’s desperate, but effective.
That puts into perspective the time you went on a work trip and brought your husband along and realized he was having an affair as he smiled into his phone and went to the bathroom to have whispery conversations as you tried to stop crying long enough to go to professional events and network. It was pretty bad. You might remember the hurt and humiliation of it sharply. But at least your dead body wasn’t hanging off his junk, being dragged through the snowy cobblestone streets of Boston!
– See more at: http://www.lovetv.co/til-death-do-us-part-noir-humor-of-sex-dating-and-the-animal-kingdom/#sthash.vbeJ5qlB.dpuf
Laugh it off
The trial-and-error comedy of Virginia Jones
By Robin Bacior
This article was published on 04.06.17.
Virginia Jones, one of 50 comedians coming to the Chico Comedy Festival.
PHOTO COURTESY OF VIRGINIA JONES
Chico Comedy Festival, April 8-9.
April 8: Early evening shows, 8-10 p.m., at Duffy’s Tavern, LaRocca Tasting Room, B Street Public House, Has Beans and Trucker. Late-night shows, 10 p.m., at The Pageant and Blue Room theatres.
April 9: Headliner show at Sierra Nevada Big Room, 7:30 p.m.
Tickets: Free to $20 (depending on event)
More info at www.standupsantacruz.com
The life of a comedian can be glamorous, but often it’s far from that. Lately, comedians have started to shed some mainstream light on the latter reality, such as Mike Birbiglia in his film Don’t Think Twice or Pete Holmes and his new HBO series, Crashing, both centering around how endlessly challenging it can be to tell jokes for a living.
“I had a conversation with a musician friend of mine a couple years ago,” said comedian Virginia Jones during a recent phone interview. “He said, ‘You know, when you’re playing music at a bar, people are at least gonna clap, they’re going to do something in between songs. And when you’re doing comedy at a bar, you not only need a response, but a positive response a couple times a minute.’”
Jones, originally from Texas, got her start doing comedy in Portland in 2006.
“It had always been a bucket-list thing,” Jones said. “For a year I just wrote down anything that I’ve ever said that I thought was funny, and then tried to edit that down. It was a really long process.”
She now lives in L.A. (where she’s been since 2012). The move allowed Jones the opportunity to sharpen her skills in one of the industry’s hubs, and a more competitive community.
“I felt so much truth in La La Land: [Emma Stone’s character] puts everything into one show and nobody shows up and it breaks her heart,” Jones said. “If you do that times 600, that’s what doing stand-up in L.A. feels like. I knew that struggle: Something you do resonates with someone and you don’t even know why, and you didn’t know why the other things don’t work. It’s maddening.”
Jones delivers jokes with slow, deadpan ease, often with a confessional tone. She has toured the West Coast several times, including performances at Portland’s Bridgetown and All Jane comedy festival
s, and the San Francisco Comedy Competition (in which she was a semi-finalist in 2013).
“Stand-up is where my heart is. It’s an art form that I’ve always had a lot of passion for, and I’m out here doing it,” Jones said. “If I do get national recognition, if I ever get to headline clubs on the road, no matter what happens I know that I’ve really worked on my craft and really committed to it, and that’s a really good feeling.”
After she performs at the Chico Comedy Festival (doing sets at Duffy’s Tavern, LaRocca Tasting Room and the Naked Lounge on April 8, and at Sierra Nevada Big Room on April 9), Jones will return to L.A., where she’ll continue her pursuit. It’s not always easy, but at the very least, it’s comical.
“In real life, Pete Holmes lives in my neighborhood,” Jones said. “On Saturday night, I was doing a show—I have a nightclub act where I’m a goth girl and sing songs. Anyway, I’m going to the show and I’ve got a big pink wig on, and the one white Marilyn Manson contact in, and I’m driving down the street and I kind of notice this guy who’s wearing a hoodie that’s pulled all the way around his face. He’s got it all closed up like a kid. I realize it’s Pete Holmes and he’s trying to go incognito, and I stare at him and he’s staring at me and I thought, ‘No, I’m not the weirdo; Pete, you are the weirdo. Nobody does that with their hoodie.’ That’s L.A. life.”