There’s a first time for everything and I have rented Courting. If you want to skip the story preceding the mandatory introducing of the blog renter, Bone, the click to the blog is on the right sidebar. Read it!
I always wonder why people want to read the ramblings of a female, Jewish, Upper West Sider, originally from Long Island, who has compared herself to all four main characters on Seinfeld, plus Newman, on several occasions.
My best college friend Shelby had a roommate, Maggie, in the mid 1970’s who was the wildest girl ever to come out of a certain city in Alabama. I have many relatives there and as Maggie wasn’t just the wildest girl but the richest girl, they knew her well. She had a mad crush on my cousin Danny that I found weird as she was three years older than us, so I totally didn’t get her having a crush on a Ninth Grader when she was a Freshman, but Danny was handsome, smart, star football player, incredibly nice, and Maggie was so not his type.
Maggie’s room was decorated in various skins that her she said her daddy shot on his safari’s in Africa. Though Maggie’s family was mega rich she was a stew and would get him the family rate, the tax $25. When Maggie was on a flight I would stay in her room, and Shelby and I would try to understand the mind of somebody who could live with six different types of skins. It was unnerving.
Shelby and I fought, loudly and often, but were loyal to one another. Though one Halloween we were supposed to wear maid’s uniforms that were way too short, with Fredericks of Hollywood cut out-underpants. I didn’t find it funny, cute or anything like that, and probably came in a vintage velvet gown from the 30’s.
And it was almost the height of the feminist era, just before the truly sickening dress for success suits with white sneakers and socks over pantyhose years. Sorry, only black Reebok’s or Nike’s would do with black socks and black pantie hose. I took points off for bow ties.
I had many vintage gowns and rayon day dresses from Bogie’s in The East Village. When Shelby would come with me, I wouldn’t have to tongue kiss Bogie and would get two dresses for ten dollars, instead of one for five. I would go with her to the lude doctor at the edge of Brooklyn because if I let him touch my breast, bra on, he would give Shelby a huge prescription. I was pot all the way, but she was my best friend.
Maggie did end up marrying her first cousin and they moved to the Florida Panhandle. Don’t know the ending as I haven’t spoke to Maggie in over 20 years, Shelby since 1990, nor have I spoken to any of my Alabama relatives in recent years.
I’m endlessly fascinated by people from the deep South. My favorite Southern writers are Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams, Eudora Welty, Willie Morris yes, My Dog Skip, is close to my heart, and Margaret Maron the mystery writer.
Love becoming friends with people from the South because invariably, sooner rather than later, I will learn about a cousin who married another cousin. That’s not the only reason, I’m not that superficial. Maybe…
This was a prelude to introducing my first ever blog renter, Bone who I once described as “the sensitive, straight male, who knows everything there is to know about Seinfeld and football, and eats at the Cracker Barrel, and is forever trying to figure out what girls like, and what girls might like about him.”
That was in the beginning of January, and I could add a lot to that description. I won’t except to say that Bone’s a truly good writer. So read his blog. And I now know from other peoples blogs what the Cracker Barrel is.
Would also like to say that I miss his synopses of General Hospital, a show I hate to watch but love to read about. When Bone does them they’re a hundred times better than the ones on Soap Opera Digest
If you would like to rent my blog please send an email and $5,000 American dollars; in my dreams….It’s raining, again.
Waiting for Rove to be indicted is like waiting for a sunny 85 degree day, on the beach, when somebody will pay $5,000 American dollars to rent my blog.
My mind, on the eighth or so day of full or partial rain is a horrible thing to behold. I have a long dental appointment tomorrow that I know will be painful, but soon I will be counting down the days toward dental freedom. It feels so weird:
“What have you been doing for the past two years?”
“Going to the dentist.”
“No really what have you been doing for the past two years?”
“Going to the….”
And on it goes. Finally I add:
“Oh yeah, I began a blog….”
“You and 39* million other people.”
Ain’t that the truth.