Saturday, May 29, 2004

Ahhhhh....

The first Saturday Night Barbeque is over. The only brief excitement was the maintenance department forgetting to turn off the timers to the automatic sprinklers. The ones next to us came on, giving us half an hour to figure out how to turn them off or put on a happy face with a wet t-shirt contest.

More trials with the girl who won't work. I clocked in watching her try to take an empty golf cart to go "check out the scene" while the bartenders were trying to haul their stuff out. Golf carts are a precious commodity. Tonight she "went to the bathroom" and came back twenty minutes later...with the score of the Lakers game. Then she went to put on her makeup -- half an hour. After Anjie and I loaded the entire wine station, hauled it out to the poolside and set it up, here she comes half an hour later with two wine racks she's just polished....on a slow day it takes 10 minutes a rack, and we already had plenty. She took a 25 minute dinner break, then came back and asked "shouldn't we start clearing glasses?" We'd been DOING that for quite some time. She decides to go follow the food cart back to fill up to go boxes for her family. (That alone is worth a write up -- they're very strict on take home food. Official quote: "We don't mind feeding you on the clock, we just don't want to feed your entire family, too.") Then Anjie and I break down the wine station, take two full golf carts back, and she wants us to bring back the golf cart so she can put three trays and a rack of glasses on it....I don't think so. You can carry that and save yourself a trip. I spoke to a manager. It really irks me that I haul myself around doing my work and hers, and she gets four evening shifts next week. I. Work. The. WAGONTONGUE. All week. It takes a lot of milkshakes to make up for not working in the dining room at fifty cents gratuity a shake....

Thursday, May 27, 2004

Another night at Fess Parker's soiree. I'm going to see and be seen, and see if I can schmooze enough to get someone to recommend me to an agent. I've sent a letter to the one who was interested in me earlier reminding her of that fact. Maybe if I bug her enough she'll take me on just to get me to leave her alone. The old Shawshank Redemption trick. But I only have until September 6 to get the ball rolling. After that I'm moving somewhere...if I have an agent here, LA seems prudent. If not, I have a mutual student of my voice teacher who could give me lessons in NYC. That seems prudent too. I've been over a year without lessons (except for those I got in January) and could use a tune up.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop...

Last week Chloe was ill and to the tune of $47 I was told by the vet that she needed to eat different food. Last night I came home and Cai was sitting on my chair...surrounded by blood. For $56.50 I found out that he'd been in a catfight, the puncture had abscessed, and last night it burst. (Cai is not a chin scratcher, so I didn't feel the abcess before). I now have pills that I can't force him to eat...

Doesn't bad news usually come in threes? Great....

I got bit again...

By a milkshake machine this time...

Monday, May 24, 2004

Two days ago was bad at the alisal. How bad was it? The YPO's were the nicest people here. That's saying a lot. Even Wendy, the eternal optimist, the last person to lose her patience, the one who tries to find something to like about everybody, declared over a bottle and half of wine (shared with three people) that "People suck!" I'd already drawn that conclusion three days earlier. And then in devotions I came to that verse about it not being any credit to treat people well who are nice to you. Every day before work I remind myself that, but three hours in my patience is again shot, and I've failed miserably in the Charity department. Eye rolling on the way to the bar would have cost me my salary by now (my parents used to charge a dollar a roll). At least C. S. Lewis admits that charity doesn't mean trying to convince yourself they they aren't such bad chaps after all...
Quote of the day:

"I can't wait until I'm my age!"

I'm having trouble again with my blog...will try to delete the multiple postings.

I worked today at the golf lounge. It was very slow. I read the entire first Harry Potter book, save one chapter.

I spent the rest of the shift listening in to the golfers' conversations. Whoever said rich people don't talk about money aren't quite correct. They'd never stoop to discuss a new deal, but they spend a great deal of time talking about real estate and the stock market. I tried to listen for good tips while reading the business section of the paper. Dry reading, that. Except for an article on the recent collapse of the airport wing in Paris. And a trapese artist in Wisconsin fell without a net and died. I don't know why that counted as business, but oh well.

Saturday, May 22, 2004

The every changing standard of women's beauty:

A girl walked through the bar today. She was today's perfect Hollywood standard; tallish, thin, no hips, no butt, no chest. She wore terrycloth boy shorts rolled down futher, and a bikini halter top. She didn't have an ounce of fat on her body -- we would have known. There was no place to hide it.p> Female beauty is constantly evolving. Before the industrial revolution, apparel (and thus the preferred physique) changed about once every century. The industrial revolution pushed the revolving standard to every twenty years. This past century revolved about every decade. And of course women's looks have altered much more drastically than male , I think. The suit, for example, has remained remarkably the same since about the late 19th century.

C. S. Lewis, in his book "That Hideous Strength" talks some about how every new fashion change alters a woman's role. (He is referring mostly to the Edwardian Period, where restrictive clothing encouraged women to be inactive and helpless, and the following Jazz age, when women wanted to be youthfull and boyish)

In the 12th and 13th century, the dresses were long. An underdress was covered by a tunic with arm openings below the waist, and a hip belt. (Think Eowyn in Lord of the Rings) Women were to be thin, tall, and stately. The next fashion was high waisted dresses. The skirt was tightly gathered just beneath the breasts. To be a virtuous woman, one was to look pregnant.

The 17th century (I hope I'm getting my centuries right. All of my costume books are in a box in Waco), bodices were tight, skirts long, and a large ruffled collar was vogue. (think Elizabeth)

In the eighteenth century, whalebone corsets were introduced as high fashion. Bucket panniers held the dress away from the body, and breasts were pushed high and exposed. To be in fashion, women took baby steps, and breathing was so restricted that any exertion was liable to bring on a faint.

Possibly the least restrictive clothing for women in 2,0000 years was the neo-classical period. (Think Jane Austen) The skirts were above the foot; dresses were made of cottons instead of heavy velvets; women were encouraged to have "correct" figures, usually referring to greek statuary.

From here on in history, the "ideal woman" becomes impossible and absurd. (From my perspective, at least in the 19th century a woman had corsets to help her assume the correct shape. Now we have no recourse but to diet, lift weights, or stuff) The mid-19th century favors plump women with sloping shoulders. Ten years later tight bodices emphase the waist, breasts, and hips. Then, the S-silhuete comes in. You've seen the pictures of the Gibson Girls with the wasp waists and large busts. The twentieth century favored, in this order: trim, geisha, boyish, glamourous, trim and boxy, hyper curvy, slim and leggy, stick thin, (who the heck knows for the eighties -- that was the worst of all possible fashion decades, and those who seem determined to bring it back ought to be shot), unisex, and now -- boyish again.

Where is all of this leading. Right, the girl in the bar. This isn't a lecture on the evils of fashion. I like fashion. I like costume history. I think it's fascinating to read how closely current events are mirrored in the change in clothing. (From about 1500 on, it was preferable to be overweight. It was also vogue to have white skin. Why? Because that meant you had enough money to eat, and didn't have to work outside in the sun to get it. Why is being thin and having a tan vogue now? Because it implies you are rich enough to exercise hours every day, and spend the rest by the pool/golfing/at the beach.) What disturbed me about this girl was how young she is, and how well she's bought into the Hollywood standard. You know the type. Brittany Spears, the Olson twins, any number of underweight stars. (They do have the excuse of fifteen pounds. Everyone knows the cameras add that much. But, given that excuse, they should look "normal" to us until we get up close) This girl is walking around, probably starving herself to achieve an ideal look that is going to change in another couple of years. After that, she will likely be out getting implants when butts are back in, liposuction when they aren't. Silicone, and collagin, and the latest diet. All for what. The advantage our predecessors had was that beauty then WAS only skin deep. The body shape was altered by external means -- through fabric and boning and alterations of style. Now our fashions mean changing our metabolism and diet, excersize, and very shape. It doesn't give us much room for error.

Where can fashion go from here? Well, unless Star Trek is right (look out ladies!) the next move should be a swing in the opposite direction. We'll rediscover that clothing is a good thing. The more the better. If not, start the Atkins diet. Because we'll be walking around naked next.

This one's for you, Dad.

A gentleman walks into the bar. "I want a smoothie that is predominantly orange and banana."

So which do you want to predominate; the orange, or the banana?

;

Quote of the day:

From Have His Carcase by Dorothy Sayers.

Background; Lord Peter Whimsey and Harriet Vane are making a list of all the suspects in a murder case.

"Henry Weldon.

Things to be noted:
1. Personal characteristics: tallish, broad, powerful, resembles hi mother facially; obstinate, illmannered, countrified; apparently not very intelligent.

Things to be done:
1. Kick him. (P.W.) Well, no, that woudn't be politic. String him along and see if he is really as stupid as he makes out. (H.V.) All right, but kick him afterwards. (P.W.)"