(Not so) easy on the eyes…
Hawaiian has not been himself lately, and apologizes deeply for neglecting his blog and his three regular readers.
And because I’m still not fully myself, this post is more likely to show than tell. But that’s ok, really, because a picture is worth a thousand words (except for those that leave you speechless.)
Anyway, after leaving everyone alone with the Hingis, it was pointed out by a friend that I left many of my other favorites off of that list, and that perhaps others might “enjoy” getting an eyeful of some more women who can easily bring a tear to mine. So here they are, a handful of women who to, at times, make everything about TV hurt so good.
Patricia Arquette
This pint-sized star of the big hit Medium has a super-sized effect on me, so I have to go in from the side.
Svetlana Khorkina
Olympic gymnast Khorkina has been a favorite for a very long time, and while commentators refer to her as some kind of Russian beauty, she’s really always reminded me of a meerkat. I love Khorkina and I’m sorry that she and her hyperextensive limbs have retired because now there’s no one left to bark at the other girls when they screw up. Rumor has it that she’s trying to become an actress and there are supposedly topless pics to prove it, but I’m afraid her best chance at screentime these days will be as a mail-order bride in Florida on one of those Discovery Channel specials.
Jodi Lyn O’Keefe
Consider this post a plea for someone to give Jodi Lyn a job. That recent bad USA movie and the 3 Doors Down video just aren’t enough for me. In fact, I’m writing a screenplay with a role for her just so I can have her in my DVD collection. Actually, I’m not even sure I could watch a series with Jodi Lyn on a weekly basis, but I would still be comforted by knowing it’s there.
Nicolette Sheridan
I think it’s safe to say that Nicolette is totally redefining the word “bombshell” these days. From the neck down she really couldn’t be any better, but every closeup during Desperate Housewives leaves me looking around my living room for shrapnel. Honestly, I don’t believe she’s had a lot of work done — I can’t imagine how one would actually manage to do some of that surgically.
I’d also like to give a shout out to my girl Chrissy from G-String Divas. For some reason(and it’s probably a very good one) still pictures of Chrissy are very hard to find and don’t really do her “justice.” The HBO series, however, captures Chrissy in all of her glory. I don’t really know what it is about Chrissy that makes her so special, but my longstanding love of strippers clearly has something to do with it. And a deep love it is at that. In fact, in second grade a chubby girl named Kristy held my hand as we walked around the playground at lunch one day, and she is now apparently a stripper in Fresno at some place called JonJon’s. That afternoon was really as close as I would ever get to dating a woman. Seriously. Second grade.
I guess I should be grateful that I got to make skin-to-skin contact without having to give her a tip.
February 26th, 2006 at 8:43 pm
[...] In honor of this new era, I considered a Pucker Up and Blow theme for my birthday, with gift bags of party favors to include my favorite lip balm, Sour Patch kids, some Big League Chew, Blow Pops, $100 bills edged with powdered sugar, a kazoo, and a framed copy of my favorite picture of Nicolette Sheridan, but it turns out that I’m too lazy for that. In fact, it’s possible that I still have a few thank you cards to send out from Christmas, so the only giftbags at my birthday party should be ones with my name on them. And since 30 is really the last year it’s even remotely acceptable to expect or accept gifts from people who don’t share your bed, your DNA, or know things about your past that allow the two of you to blackmail each other in perpetuity, I’ve decided to put together a wishlist just in case some of you are feeling generous, have connections that you’ve been hiding from me, or need to be entertained. [...]
March 7th, 2006 at 2:43 am
[...] No, these movies do not belong on either of these lists. These movies are like trying to explain my love for Curb Your Enthusiasm or Wesley Willis. (If you don’t know Wesley, Chickencow and I Whooped Batman’s Ass are two personal favorites.) My relationship with these movies could be as inexplicable as my love for Nicolette Sheridan, as deep as my affection for Project Runway, or as shameful as my true appreciation for any bad picture of Ashlee Simpson. Which, I suppose, means that each of these is, in its own way, a little glimpse into the inner workings of my own little Hawaiian-shaped soul. [...]