America's Top Supermodel
Dec. 4th, 2005 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraEverybody shuttled off to the Sierra to ski this weekend. Thus even on a weekend, Cannery Row was like a ghost town. It was very cold. A school of dolphins swimming very close to shore kept me entertained on frequent cigarette breaks. That annoying guy from San Jose who somehow mistakes customer service for deep abiding personal interest came into the store and jabbered for half an hour but did not buy anything! I felt like a dance hall girl: asshole, if you want me to flash you some conversational tit, you're gonna have to spring for that watered-down 7&7. Eventually, he left. We made the bare minimum to keep this week's round of bills paid. Nonetheless, I came home in a lousy mood so there was only one thing to do:
Tune into VH1's America's Top Supermodel marathon!
How come I never knew this show existed before?
Now, about three hundred thousand years ago – shortly after the glaciers left downtown Manahattan but before the arrival of Donald Trump – I was a model for an agency called Wilhelmina. Never a contender for Top Supermodel: like poor Sarah with the big pouty lips, I could never walk down a runway in high heels without tripping. Also as management never got tired of pointing out, my bottom teeth were crooked and even when I got down to 120 pounds (on a diet of Dexedrine and M&M's), my legs were way too fat. This was in the days before scientific advances in smile technology had swept the dentist industry. Management's solution to my crooked smile? "Have your teeth pulled and get dentures! You'll give better blow jobs too!"
Even with these cosmetic flaws, my bone structure was compelling enough to command $50/hour for photo shoots – Big Buck$ in those pre-Cindy Crawford days. Somewhere in my voluminous mess of files, I still have clippings (if they haven't been peed on by dogs or crumbled by time.)
I modeled for about six months, saved up my money and took off for Paris where I lived marginally for two years on my savings. I never saw it as a career option. But then I've never seen anything as a career option: it's just something you do till you do something else. In the meantime, you write about it.
I want more America's Top _____ shows! America's Top Garbage Men! America's Top Long Shoreman (hosted by a digitally resurrected Marlon Brando!) America's Top Human Resource Directors! America's Top Bodyguards – Vin Diesel, the obvious choice as host, featuring driving contests, trips to the shooting range, tuxedo modeling.
And isn't Tyra Banks grotesque-looking? I mean, try to ignore the conditioned response – "Bleep! This is beauty! Bleep! Buy the push-up bra!" – and analyze the woman feature by feature. She looks like a cgi alien.
Tune into VH1's America's Top Supermodel marathon!
How come I never knew this show existed before?
Now, about three hundred thousand years ago – shortly after the glaciers left downtown Manahattan but before the arrival of Donald Trump – I was a model for an agency called Wilhelmina. Never a contender for Top Supermodel: like poor Sarah with the big pouty lips, I could never walk down a runway in high heels without tripping. Also as management never got tired of pointing out, my bottom teeth were crooked and even when I got down to 120 pounds (on a diet of Dexedrine and M&M's), my legs were way too fat. This was in the days before scientific advances in smile technology had swept the dentist industry. Management's solution to my crooked smile? "Have your teeth pulled and get dentures! You'll give better blow jobs too!"
Even with these cosmetic flaws, my bone structure was compelling enough to command $50/hour for photo shoots – Big Buck$ in those pre-Cindy Crawford days. Somewhere in my voluminous mess of files, I still have clippings (if they haven't been peed on by dogs or crumbled by time.)
I modeled for about six months, saved up my money and took off for Paris where I lived marginally for two years on my savings. I never saw it as a career option. But then I've never seen anything as a career option: it's just something you do till you do something else. In the meantime, you write about it.
I want more America's Top _____ shows! America's Top Garbage Men! America's Top Long Shoreman (hosted by a digitally resurrected Marlon Brando!) America's Top Human Resource Directors! America's Top Bodyguards – Vin Diesel, the obvious choice as host, featuring driving contests, trips to the shooting range, tuxedo modeling.
And isn't Tyra Banks grotesque-looking? I mean, try to ignore the conditioned response – "Bleep! This is beauty! Bleep! Buy the push-up bra!" – and analyze the woman feature by feature. She looks like a cgi alien.
