On the way to the 1 train this morning, I tasted the first glimpse of warm weather. I broke out in a sweat on the cramped, smelly elevator, and I started to feel like I was on fire, burning from the inside, sticky, gooey, runny, gross. Aaahhh, the fresh smell of body odor and ripe, unadulterated sweat in the City makes me anticipate the long, hot days ahead.
On the subject of hotness, I received an e-mail from the Hot Enough people last night. Apparently, I was approved in the first round of their so called process. Now, in order to get on the site, I have to get an average of 8 or above after 25 votes. Last time I checked, I had 12 votes and I was at a 7.9. Wouldn't that be shitty if my final score was a 7.9? I missed the Hot Enough opportunity by 1/10 of a point? Makes me think of all those tests in school where I got an 89. Just one point shy of an A. Just enough to fuck up my GPA.
At first, I was excited and a bit giddy to have made it to the next step in this seemingly selective process. But then, it was anticlimactic. Like, winning some contest that everyone wanted to win, but realizing you really didn't give a shit about it anyway in the first place.
Some of the women on the website look like tranny hooker ho's with ginormous, inflatable, hard-as-rock breasts. Do I really want to be associated with that? If I do make it onto the site, which I'm still unsure of at this point, will I be thrown into that pile of women skanks with fried bleached-to-death blonde hair, orange skin and long, claw-like, fake plastic fingernails who would fuck a light pole?
Dirrrty. Trashy. Disgusting. What about the men? Some of the men look like those Chip-N-Dales nightclub go-go dancers who flash those "come hither," corny Zoolander male model poses. They look totally eaten up with themselves with fluorescent oily skin and fang blinding white teeth. And they're probably gay.
Living in a City that places so much importance on Botox, Juvederm and Restylane can be confusing and frustrating. It's hard not to feel like a tiny dot, a small grain of sand on a beach that stretches for millions and millions of miles...
If I just flash my pearly whites, which are a little less white from the nicotine, would I, could I be accepted into the elite groups of Manhattan and a website based on beauty? If I am accepted, would the grain of sand that I am somehow turn into a sparkling jewel, and stand out from the billions of other screaming grains?
I get philosophical. Maybe the heat triggers such gushes of emotion.
If so, then maybe... it's not hot enough. Since I'm not Botoxed up, I can show my emotions.
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