aka Chesty LaRue

When I Grow Up I Want to be a Call Girl!

Hah!  Now you're really interested in what I'm about to say, aren't you?  And for the record, as per my kindergarten worksheet, I had these future plans:  "I want to be a pizza maker and help animals."  Didn't quite turn out that way, though.

However, I did not become a Call Girl.  Not that this was never offered to me as an option.  There was a point when I was freshly out of the Army, moved to a state I had never lived in before, and was running out of savings.  Couldn't find a job in Fayetteville to save my life.  I finally was offered a job at the local Comedy Club as a cocktail waitress, where I was to wear tight hot-pants and my shirt unbuttoned to HERE and where I could have made "extra money" if I so chose.  Which, incidentally, was not originally mentioned in the job interview.

I lasted 3 hours.  The other waitresses were cold, indifferent and efficient around me, (probably since I was only 20 and in excellent shape compared to everyone there who was likely GASP in their 30s...) and the idea of wearing so little clothing while being paid to flirt with people was more than I could handle.  The coat check woman just shook her head at me and she nodded when the bartender looked at me and said, "Honey, this place isn't for you."  I remember tearfully submitting my resignation to the boss who just looked pissed at having to find a replacement, and returning back to my apartment to my best male friend who held me while I cried and then took me out for fries and a root beer at the local burger place.  I got a job a week later at the local college as a secretary and never looked back. 

The irony is that if I was the person then that I am today?  I would have been great at being a cocktail waitress.  Its amazing what a little maturity and attitude can do for a person.  And yet I still wouldn't sleep with someone for money.  For me, it just isn't an option, married or not.  Just not something I would ever be comfortable with.  And yet, I will not look down at another woman who makes her living that way.  (But only if it is HER living, and not in response to some pimp's instructions.  Is Wayne Brady going to have to choke a bitch?)  Just like I have no problem with strippers, or with El Jefe seeing strippers at a club.  (Which typically happens in Vegas for bachelor parties and no other, otherwise it would take away from his poker time.  A man has to have priorities, you know.)

Why am I discussing all of this?  Where is this all going?  Well, I kept seeing ads on the computer for the "Secret Diary of a Call Girl."  Turns out this is from the book which is from the blog of Belle De Jour.  I found Belle's blog awhile back (when she was still working and blogging about it and before she got her book deal) as a link off of Petite Anglaise (who also has a book deal, but is not a Call Girl, and who recently got married - Congratulations Petite!). 

Belle, Petite, Dooce and Mimi Smartypants are really the original bloggers out there, and it almost seems like everyone is descended from them.  A kind of 6 degrees of blogging, if you will.  (Incidentally, I am a little shocked that "Dooce" and "blogger" are not in my spell check.)

Anyway, Belle was just fascinating to read.  And it wasn't necessarily the salacious details she would share about the Things She Had To Do, but rather her writing style.  It was like reading a letter from a friend with a Very Different Job. 

When I saw the ad for the show (and we all know I rarely watch TV, but love to Read About It) I thought I would skip directly to the source, and check out her book.  Turns out that Belle has been busy lately (get your mind out of the gutter) working at writing  - she has published several books and written a column for a newspaper in London.  Unfortunately for those of us across the pond, only one of her books is available over here. 

It is eye-opening.  Yes, there are explicit details.  Yes, it can be a bit shocking to those of us who have led a sheltered existence.  But I find it fascinating from a sociological/psychological perspective. 

How does one become a Call Girl?  What are the requirements?  Seriously.  Because it is a much more social and personality driven job than you would imagine.  You have to be savvy and smart.  For instance, she wears men's deodorant so that the wives don't smell perfume on their husbands.  Not really something that would have initially occurred to me.  And many of her clients want to talk as well - and they want intelligent talk.  Which Belle can provide, as she is college educated and well-read.

Which brings me to the next thought I had - what would cause a girl like Belle, with a college education and many connections to become a Call Girl?  And how does this affect her relationship with her boyfriend? 

Like I said, the complexity of it all intrigues me.  Its not necessarily Community Poolside Reading, but it is well-written and interesting. 

There is also the big mystery of who Belle really is.  There has been much speculation in the UK as to whether it is this specific writer, or that specific blogger.  Men, women, old, young, there is a large pool of people that have been accused of being Belle.  Turns out that people think that it is more plausible for an experienced journalist to fake being a prostitute than it is for an experienced prostitute to be believable as a writer.  I'm not sure what I think, but I am more inclined to believe she is a real person.  Its the romantic in me.

If you are looking for something a little titillating, a little exciting, and a little different than your regular life, I would recommend checking it out.  But be warned - the sex starts within the first 5 pages - Belle is no shrinking violet. 

I do think I might read a little Laura Ingalls Wilder next - just to put life in perspective.  Because Laura Ingalls Wilder?  Not likely to have been part of a threesome.  Just sayin'.

Oh Honestly, Angela! and Other Classic Literature from the 80's

As so often happens, I was out the other night shopping with The Cheap Chick.  I was looking for fabric and jewelry, and she was looking for a winter coat.  Neither of us was particularly interested in expanding our minds via literature.  Not when you can get your Jane Austen fix watching Colin Firth walk out of a pond soaking wet in period garb. 

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You can thank me later.

At my particular Savers, the books are over near the changing area.  A cover caught my eye and I went over to look at it.  It turned out to be a book I have wanted to buy, yet did not want to spend $25 on a hardcover.  This copy was the hardcover, marked down to $2.99.  I love being cheap. 

For some reason this book had been placed in the Children's section.  Chick and I started browsing the titles and suddenly it was like we were in 1986 again - there were so many large permed heads and Ken Doll Guys on the covers I kept expecting someone to start playing "Jesse's Girl" (and she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it) or "St. Elmo's Fire." (Gonna be a man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels... and holy crap, everyone looks so young. Remember Andrew McCarthy's coffin? And when Emilio kissed Andie?  Good times.)

I decided that I needed to purchase some of these books and tell you people about them.  Because they are truly very funny, and very representative of what we all read back in the Decade That Should Be Forgotten.  First up:

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This is a classic novel about Gwen and her romance with a guy named Jack who she meets at the beach.  The tag line is:  How do you know when you're in love?

Turns out Gwen knows pretty fast.  And it didn't require me to read the whole book.  I did the same thing I did with "Giants in the Earth" (WORST BOOK EVER) - I read the first chapter, a middle chapter, and the end chapter.  And that was all I needed.  Turns out Jack is kind of an idiot.  He gives away a gift his mother gave him, a bracelet with his name on it, to this other girl who hates Gwen.  And this is it for Gwen, who decides that although they love each other, they can no longer be together.  So she breaks up with him in the hallway at school.  And then:

""I broke up with Jack."

"I'm sorry," Manda said softly.

"Why?  You didn't even like him."

Manda started the car.  "But you did."

"No," Gwen said loudly.  "I didn't like him.  You're using all the wrong words.  I love him.  Right now, I love him."

Then she stopped talking and began to cry, loud sobs and keening wails that racked her body..."

And she vowed never to forget him, this guy who was such a jackass, apparently, to her and to others.  They had such great messages in the 80's for girls in regards to boys. 

Next up is this little classic:

This one is a sequel.  Tina wants to raise money to "adopt" a needy child through the Rescue the Children program, and her little brother is going to help her.  (Anyone remember Sally Struthers on those late night infomercials?)  Her sister Angela (of the "Oh, Honestly") clearly has no concept of this, as she can't get past the concept that these children don't have toys.  According to the back of the book, "Tina thinks Angela has a lot to learn about what's important..." 

I didn't even need to read this one to know the ending.  Angela has some epiphany that causes Tina to view her in a new light, and Angela also somehow manages to come up with the rest of the money.  Perhaps through a donation from someone who thinks she is spunky, I don't know.  And she donates her stuffed elephant to a needy child. 

I would have eaten this stuff UP when I was in middle school.  (I was reading Barbara Cartland in Junior High.  Romance, you know.)  Little siblings, Christmas, a stuffed elephant, helping others, its a cornucopia of plot.

And then:

Just LOOK at that cover.  I think this one is my favorite.  I was that girl in the striped shirt.  I freely admit it.  And holy crap people, DARCI IS IN THE BAD LUCK CABIN!  This could be serious.  Especially since, like most other books from this decade, this was a sequel.

Darci has never been to camp before, and likes the people in her cabin.  ALL of the popular girls get put in another cabin, of course.  Maybe they were called to it by the siren song of Aqua-Net.  Who knows?  Either way, Darci's cabin is NOT cool.  And naturally there is a trophy involved.  And Darci gets poison ivy.  And the two cabins get tied in the competition.  (Of course.)  What do you think happens?  Will they cheat to win?  Do cheaters ever win?  And naturally they don't win the big trophy, they win the "Girls Who Tried the Hardest Trophy," and that is enough for them.  Which is kind of lame.  What happened to killer instinct?  Particularly since there is a hot guy named Greg she has been mooning over who finally talks to her at the end of the book. 

I don't know about you people, but my camp experiences were never like this.  The only boy at camp was Seth, the grounds-keeper's son, and MY GOD was he hot.  Poor guy spent all summer being chased by prepubescent Girl Scouts.  Somewhere at Camp Ruby Lake it is written "Seth is Hot" on the ceiling of Cabin 5.  My roommate was just a tiny bit obsessed with him. 

Otherwise?  We never had competitions.  And camp wasn't like the Parent Trap either.  Maybe East Coast camps that cost $1,000's of dollars were like that, but I spent my fair share of time scrubbing dishes, rather than taking fencing lessons.  And something quite funny - when G went to camp for the first time, she wound up in the same cabin, in the same bunk as when I was there, many, many moons ago. 

The Chick's favorite books from this time period were of course Sweet Valley High:

Ooh!  Deceptions!  Who didn't secretly want to be a perfect twin?  With a great, hot-looking older brother?  And with their own convertible?  And a hot boyfriend?  And be editor of the Newspaper, or head of the Cheerleaders?  Years later, I can still rattle off their names:  Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield, Bruce and his Ferrari, Lila Fowler, Enid the best friend...  These books were like tiny little bits of crack for Junior High girls who lived in a SLIGHTLY less wealthy suburb than the Wakefield twins. 

But let's think about this for a second.  Why was Jessica such a bitch to Elizabeth?  And why was Elizabeth such a doormat?  What were their parents doing in all of this?  Although the clothing descriptions were classic.  There is a new set of these books that have come out, all gussied up and brought into a new century:  The Fug Girls Tell All. 

You know what these books remind me of?  One Tree Hill.  Before they all grew up and Chad Michael Murray started to take himself so seriously as an actor.  Heh. 

But MY favorite books were The Girls of Canby Hall series:

I LOVED these books.  What girl doesn't have boarding school fantasies?  Of course the best would be if it was a British boarding school, but this was East Coast, and just as good.  Of course their definition of diversity was to make sure that one girl was always African-American, and from a working-class family.  Really progressive of them. 

But the tales of Preppy clothing, boys from the local colleges, townies, and getting along with the other snobbier girls were just so much fun to read.  And I did get a chance to go to boarding school in my junior year of high school, briefly.  I feel that I can honestly say that other than easier access to drugs (no Mom, I didn't inhale) and everyone living in the same environment all the time, there is really not much difference than regular high school.  It was fun, and the ceremonies that they had and the beautiful old buildings, and walking into town to go to the bakery on the weekend, and hanging out with people from all over the world and with house parents was very cool.  But ultimately the dynamics were still the same.  The homework load was heavier.  There was scheduled study time.  And somehow I wound up with a single room with the largest closet in the building.  But deep down, it was the same.  Which was a bit of a let-down after all those expectations.  But it is an experience I am glad I got to have.  Remind me to blog about it and my Prom some time.  The Horror.

I do admit that I love those books, though.  I would love to have the entire collection again.  And I would make my children read them and wallow in the the sweater vests, Polo shirts, little tartan wool skirts and knee highs.  OOH!  And the penny loafers, with the penny in them.

Wasn't childhood grand?  Aren't you glad Harry Potter came along?  I feel like sending a Thank You card to J.K. Rowling right now after having read (kind of) these books. 

What were your favorite books from your childhood? I ask because I care.  And hey!  Children's books at Savers are only $.69 each.  So you can buy back your childhood for very little money.  Let it be a salve on the wound that was your High School years.