January 06, 2007


Either there was no traditional rehersal dinner, or we just weren't invited to it. We didn't sweat it. We arrived at 3, checked in and succumbed to truly revolting food delivered from a place that offered "snackitizers" on the menu. My mom has not been to this place in 27 years, and I have been here tons but all I know of it is the hospital, that no place in town sells the Times, hours on the ice cream place, which Catholic church I prefer and that supposedly there is gay cruising at the Fort Sackville monument though all I ever see is historic re-enactors, not "queers" laying in wait amongst the tall bushes. Which means I know about nothing going on that might be of interest to my mom; we picked up a brochure in the lobby for the schedule of tours of the home of Americas 9th president (Um, Dr. Zhivago? Senor Wenceslas? No idea.) and instead we opted to watch the tail end of a a reality show marathon on COUNTRY MUSIC TELEVISION in our motel-room. The reality show was a contest to find the ultimate Coyote Ugly girl. Coyote Ugly, I learned from this show is like Hooters as a biker bar for frat trash and tourists, and is a chain of bars nationwide that are often in malls. Being the "ultimate" means you have to dance like a stripper to "Devil Went Down To Georgia", "Cherry Pie" and "Pour Some Sugar On Me", look like you sleep in a tanning bed, exude bad-cheerleader pep, sing bawdy country songs, dress like a dorm slut and make drinks--all at the same time. The judges kept calling this ability "the triple threat", but it's like a six part inverse actually-threatening threat, and looked more like a way of turning that lost post-college party year into a life style. The girls would cry and cry when they'd get yelled at for clogging wrong, and cry again when they got the boot saying they knew in their heart that they are in fact, THE ULTIMATE, that working at a bar, dancing in chaps and fishnet body suits is what they were meant to do and having all the men in the place giving them attention is their life long dream: it was the patriarchies dream come true. That said: Having an on-TV competition for who can be the hottest singing dancing pro-fesh bar trash at the hee-haw mall bar is a really genius idea whose time has come.

Posted by Jessica at January 6, 2007 01:05 AM | TrackBack