Every Sunday Morning, a place where various things get thrown out, shot at, cut open, and dissected. Topics of interest: psychological, and medical anthropology, privatization, globalization, excess, language, humor, hip-hop culture, jazz, brain and mind, memory, urban space development, Los Angeles, the Chicago Bulls, UCLA Bruins, FC Barcelona, and mankind.
In all seriousness, these are my top 10 favorite females. For me, they all represent something more than just good-looking females. They are each a combo of aesthetic pleasure, intelligence, and strength --- usually relating to and reminding me of a component of my vida.
Before I spill my list, I urge you to read an article recently posted on Alternet. An article about the over-sexualization of our culture. Right here.
Kinda odd, since part of what I write seems like objectification especially in regards to Salma Hayek, Shakira, Mya, and Livia Andrade. Can't say that I'm completely "conscious" all the time, but the hard facts are that these are the women burned into my memory. If it's any consolation, I really really value what the top 2 bring to the media above anything else.
1.Alicia Keys
My boo.
Love her hip-hop, her curves, her smarts.
2.Norah Jones
Single-handedly responsible for my infatuation with Indian women early in college. Daughter of an honorary Banana Slug and world figure Ravi Shankar who performed with the Beatles.
Jazz and blues...country-simple living...seemingly simple person but with lots of complexity and ambiguity. Can't find a super-hot here's-her-ass picture of her, but whatever, it's all good. I love that she doesn't (or at least looks like she doesn't) try too hard at all.
3.Scarlett Johansson
All I can remember was her smile, her legs, and confidence in Lost in Translation.
She's been disappointing in every other context outside of this movie. She could be so much more. I guess I would describe her as the Carmelo Anthony or Tyrus Thomas of women actors.
4.Raven Symone
Love the fact that she's thick and has bags for days, and doesn't give a crap.
5.Salma Hayek
From Dusk Till Dawn.
OMFGGTFO.
The sexiest role I've ever seen played by anyone, ever, in the history of movie-making, play-writing, whatever.
Downside is knowing that the asshead director, Quentin Tarantino of course managed to get himself some of the action.
6.Shakira
This is how the female body is supposed to move. A collection of booty.
Shakira in a bikini.
7.Tea Leoni
When I lived in the townhouse and we used to watch a lot of TV, we used to buy TV guide magazines. The one below we had and we never tossed it into the recycling bin. It was just there.
I guess I looked at it enough to the point where the image burned into my mind. It was an image that showed how nice legs were supposed to be.
Later in life, I saw some Christmas movie with Nicholas Cage. She played his wife or supposed-to-be wife. That's when I noticed her face.
The most aesthetically-pleasing older woman ever.
8.Mya
Completely, utterly, fucking blown away by her It's All About Me Video when it first came out. Was shocked at the skin, the 'tude...wow...
ALWAYS being extremely sexy in every type of media I find her in. That's her goddamn job.
9.Livia Andrade
Other than studying favelas and futbol, she's got at least 3 of the reasons why I need to move to Brasil.
God. Damn.
10.Michelle Branch
There was really one FHM interview she did that really turned me onto her.
She talked about how most of her fans tended to be 12-13 year old boys, BUT, no one, in her own words..."NO ONE old enough to take back to the hotel."
I love the workings of that perverted mind behind the clean face, clean music, and uneven body.
Plus, I love the Game of Love. Was a good, clean, fun anthem for the Super Bowl and other events of 2004. But of course knowing what she thinks about sex too, she probably had perverted sensual images subliminally invoked into that song too.
by B.J. on 10/13/2007 07:04:00 AM
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I feel embarrassed about feeling the way I feel. Maybe I wouldn't be if I sunk into a shithole of extended heroin, meth, and cocaine use. You know the big 3. Just for fun, I could top it off with a side of 'shrooms. I think I'd be so blasted and would have lost everything, that nothing would matter anymore and I could really do anything (aside from paying a large amount of mental, physical bodily rent) !
So I was there about to fail a fucking test. Not just any fucking test. . .a fucking math test.
What the hell was I doing taking a math test ?
Well, it appeared that I needed to complete my math college credits after all, strangely back in my 11th-12 grade teacher Mr. Pascale's classroom, full of students who had attended class.
Right when I walked in, some random white guy who was in a preceding dream (which I've forgotten) asked me to give him the answers to this test via his cellphone as As he settled down in some desk, Pascale yelled at him in that manner that he always had. Though generally an affable guy, Pascale is this big, intimidating guy with the capacity to outyell a lion and a knack for making you feel pretty low especially come testing time.
I walked in feeling guilty because I had ditched class all quarter and here was Mr. Pascale right before the test talking up how hard it was, but in a way that said I-know-you-guys-and-I'm-going-to-give-you-a-boost kind of way to the virtuous students who had attended class regularly.
I'm pretty sure he looked at me and just didn't want to say anything to my class-ditching ass. I was the last person he would want to give a boost to. He was probably thinking, "man what happened to that virtuous, quiet Delas Armas kid who would ask for help occasionally ?" Then that thought was probably rimmed over by "oh well, he's going to run over by this test. . .but much worse than those other kids."
So that's what was going through my mind before I took the test. I was going to turn in the test right away and accept my F and hopefully somehow make it up during the quarter. I was also thinking how I should've dropped the class maybe like I should have dropped the History of Medicine 3D (hopefully that's not the case as my grade is still not revealed to me) rather than take the test.
Right before the test comes up, Piero Gonzalez, fellow OMGCer, Acting Friend, fellow Loyolan, current Brigham Youngin', turns around in a desk to my right in front of me tells me he's going to fail, that he didn't study all the material in the book. I sat there thinking, yeah but you still know worlds more than me cause you've actually been to class and do your homework. Shut the hell up, Piero. Stop rubbing it in.
I opened and took one glance at the book I never opened and it indeed looked really complicated. Each of the problems looked like they had a long process that required deciphering and translating. On top of that, usually I'm not really good at remembering these long processes without long intensive study. To think, all this could have been avoided had I gone to class. At least I would know where to begin. I'm pretty sure there were matrices and sigmas --- just stuff that I really couldn't wing.
Then some kind of Hawaiian Music with Kanye West played and the test began.
4. Me backing up into the driveway of my parents' apartment. It's thinner than Calista Flockhart's wrist.
3. The mentally diseased (I think, with its constant whining and bipolar behavior towards me) dog at the back of that driveway.
2. My diet, you the-will-include-vegetables-any-day-now, just-not-today-so-I-could munch-on-this-triple-cheeseburger-with-fries-and-a-kayoke (surfer way of saying "Coke" )
1. My brain and its ability to keep making useless connections that would propogate fear.
Add me to your reading list.
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