Results tagged “Jean Naté” from Overlooked
Why, yes, I am curious. What the hell is that smell?!
Britney Spears (or rather, her people) have been pushing a lot of merchandise lately. She's got a documentary, a new album, the covers of several magazines, and as we all remember from those innocent early 2000s, two perfumes: Fantasy and Curious. Though I've never sampled Fantasy myself, I have definitely borrowed some of my tween sister's Curious hand lotion in a pinch. My thoughts? That it's appropriate that Britney's new album is called "Circus" since she apparently smells like one--this stuff could only be described as "essence of cotton candy." Not that cotton candy smells bad. Quite the opposite. But though it does smell quite yummy, I will not purchase Britney's signature scent for three reasons:
Few people know that "Curious" is actually liquidized cake.
- When I wear perfume, I want boys to feel lusty, not hungry.
- Isn't a scent supposed to be indefinable? I don't want people to start guessing when I enter a room. "Omg, is somebody eating a Twinkie?" "No, sorry, that's my perfume."
- I'm cheap.
That's right. I don't want to spend spend $50 on an aroma I could achieve by tucking a cookie down my bra. The good news is, you can solve a multitude of these problems with "Curious" by not buying it--and investing in these alternatives instead.
- Opium. I don't think this smells anything like Curious, but I'll bet my bootlegged copy of Blackout that it's sexier.
- Jessica Simpson's Dessert line. At least this way when you smell edible, you actually are. No false advertising!
- Juice Bar. That's right, you can smell EXACTLY like something (no mystery here!) for a very low price. Seriously, a couple of bucks in a drug store. Cotton Candy, Gummi Bears--go nuts. Well, if they even make this stuff anymore. It's been a while since I was in junior high and now I'm not sure.
Anyway, here's to you, Britney, and your lowest common denominator products! Teenaged girls and middle class cougars alike will love you for it.
I won more than the game that night.
I'm sitting here now, in my changing room. I can hear the audience. They're restless. They're impatient to see the greatest Marlene Dietrich impersonator that ever graced the stages of Off-Broadway. It seems so long ago, that night that changed my life forever.
It was a hot and sweaty summer night, the kind where everyone's drunk and cruising in their pickup just to stay cool. Drunk driving wasn't a problem there because if you passed out, you'd just wake up in the morning and walk into town to get gas.
I went into town with a couple of the farm hands, Red and Tex. Red was a hard man: he'd spent most of his life traveling from farmstead to farmstead digging out stumps and working over livestock. Tex was different. He looked as young for 42 as Rex looked old for it. Tex was supple and gay, like the first springtime shoot. He always had a joke in mind and always managed to get the ladies to dance. Tex was a tractor driver; he could maneuver a tractor like he was leading a town-lady at an Oklahoma two-step. We were all men. Bronzed, rugged, American.
We walked into the arcade with pockets full of change. We'd spend what was left of our foldin' money here after hitting up ole man Jenkins' hooch shack.
As soon as you walked in the smells hit you: the cigarette smoke heavy in the air, the smell of fried taters and hot dogs from the eat-shack, the stale sour sweat of the high score. Rex slapped me on the ass and pointed over to a new game - Big Rigs: Over the Road Racing.
There were a couple of Riverdale kids hanging around it, dressed in their varsity jackets and smelling of the latest French perfumes from the town drug store. We hated them as much as they hated us. We derided them for being in their cage of a town, and they looked down on our boundless wandering in the country.
One of them laughed out loud and gave the game a kick. "This thing sucks!" he yelled out, his freckled face turning red, looking for a dummy to tackle. He glanced over at me and signalled to his team mates. "Hey farm-boy! Here's a game for ya! Ahoo hoo hoo! Shyeeeeeeeet!" His friends joined in the merry-making and they huddled over by the Dance Dance Revolution console.
I gritted my teeth. Tex held my wrists and whispered in my ear in that soft country drawl, "It's all right sweetheart, don't let them get to you. Let's just have a good time". Rex slapped my ass again, "Let's check that game out, maybe Tex can get the high score on it?" He grinned and winked at Tex. "No, I'll do it, I'll show them," I walked proudly over to the game and sat down in the seat.
I dropped in two quarters and changed my life.
There were no boundaries, no limits. I could do anything I wanted. I was free. I didn't have to stay on the road, I could go wherever and through whatever I pleased. I could even go beyond the edges of the map. I drove for hours that night, and I was always a winner. That night changed my life forever. I was beyond the arcade, beyond the town, beyond the farm. I was beyond the world. There was nothing to stop me or slow me down. I had broken through.
My mother sobbed as she hugged me goodbye. My father shook my hand and told me to do the right thing. Rex held me long and hard. We swayed back and forth on that train platform before Tex tapped him on the shoulder. Tex pressed his wet cheek to mine and kissed it softly. I'll never forget how his mustache was wet with tears. He whispered the line from the game into my ear:
"You're Winner".
