This song, the box of tissues on my lap, this joint dangling from my lips and the shot of whiskey I’m about to pour are pretty much all that’s keeping me together at the moment.
Abide with me here awhile, dudes, and once we get through the next week or so, I’ll be just fine.
“In the early days, people always used to tell me that I’d be taken more seriously as a songwriter and singer if I didn’t look so gaudy and outrageous. I’ve become known for the tits, the hair, the big mouth, and it all became part of who I am.” —Dolly Parton
SPIRIT ANIMAL 4 LIFE
Off for an impromptu birthday party with my pal Joey’s musician friends at the local legion. I believe tonight is karaoke night, so out comes the Dolly Parton!
Speaking of royalty… I would straight up worship at this shrine on a weekly basis. Especially because even though I suck at video games, pinball doesn’t care that I’m a button masher.
From Jane Fonda’s Facebook page
Things I will say when you start talking about 9 to 5: “Why don’t they make movies like 9 to 5 anymore? I’ll tell you why: the patriarchy.”
(One of my resolutions for 2011 is to see 9 to 5: The Musical when it visits my town.
FUN FACT! I went as Jane Fonda’s character for Hallowe’en the year 9 to 5 came out, complete with curly wig and eyeglasses on a chain. None of the kids in my 8th grade class got it. Maybe because the only glasses I was allowed to borrow were mesh-sided safety glasses, which ruined the secretarial illusion just a little.
Maybe my fave pic from Halloween (well, that I can show you).
Although it wasn’t my costume, I suppose I was kind of CokeTalk adjacent. And anyway, my homages are a little more discreet, you dig?
This movie is amazing. Dolly Parton’s silhouette is just out of this world. Nothin’ dirty goin’ on!
The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas (1982), directed by Colin Higgins
Starring Burt Reynolds, Dolly Parton, and Dom DeLuise
One of my FAVORITE musicals. The score is amazing. I prefer the Broadway version but damn, this is good. I recommended it on the Daily Beast last year, too. Love.
CONCUR. Just watched it again a few nights ago, actually. Hard Candy Christmas is still in my head. (I don’t know about you, Sklar, but it always makes me want to get drunk on apple wine.)
Because I know how much you all want to see me and a bunch of bachelorette party chicks at the table next to me power back some blow job shots and then start acting the fool to “White Wedding,” but I think that’s a privilege reserved for the brave souls like OJF who come out and have to put up with my drunk ass in person. Suffice it to say, the video is excruciatingly hilarious. (Especially when OJF says “That’s free of charge, America!” SO BEST!)
The video he sent of my Dollyoke is also hilare, if only for the vaguely MJ-styles jimmy leg thing I seem to have going on. If Dolly were a spazzy, shitfaced MJ impersonator, my homage would be SPOT ON. If only I could rerecord the vocal track so you can actually hear it, because at least that part was half-decent. (Thx OJF for the
blackmail evidence memories!)
Things I aquired in Asheville so far do not include discounted incense. However they do include a friendship bracelet, The Second Sex, the collected Doris zine, purple sparkly heart-shaped earrings, a woodblock tshirt that says The Great Smoky Mountains, a zine about fermentation, and a small tie-dyed silk pouch.
Kinda sorta couldn’t want that Great Smoky Mountains shirt any more than I do. Fuck.
Like, verging on face-stabbingly badly.