New Years Eve - and I haven't got a thing to wear!
Hey, it's me again. Avanta. I'm the chick who comes on here occassionally to vent about my stupid, stupid parents. It's been a while tho. I guess they haven't done anything too anal for the last few weeks. Either that or it's getting close to Christmas and I don't want to press my luck.
Not that I ever get what I really want for Christmas. My old man is always bragging about how he once met Prime Minister Chretien. So for the past five years I've been after him to use his influence to reunite my favorite band, Our Lady Mother Peace. But he never does. He just smirks and makes some comment about how Rainey is no John Lennon.
But I've got other problems. More important ones than my parents. Them, I can handle. But there are certain things in this life that I have little control over. Like what in the world do you possibly wear to a "James Bond-themed" New Years Eve Party?!? This boy from school? Billy Dunkenfield? He's a senior, you know. Anyways, he asks me out for New Years Eve. And then after I say, sure whatever, he tells me we're going to a James Bond party at Cindy Marshall's house.
So, I'm thinking - James Bond? I've never even seen a James Bond movie in my entire life. Hey, I'm only 17 fukkin' years old! And then - Cindy Marshall? You mean, like the head cheerleader at school? The one who never speaks to me - or people like me? The one we all refer to as "the Prettiest Girl in Puppet-land." She's also the one with the big sweaters and is always bragging about how rich her father is because he's not only head of the Parks Department but owns a car dealership as well. Billy says this party is going to be catered and kind of formal and to be sure to dress up.
Yep, nothing like being under a bit of pressure. I mean, if you are a woman, just what do you wear to a fancy party like this? I may not have ever seen a James Bond movie, but I have heard of 'Bond girls' before. And I know that every girl there is going to be dressed like some kind of sex-goddess skank. I've looked up the credits to Bond movies and the names alone say it all - Xenia Onatopp, Pussy Galore, Ursula Undress. Nope, nothing too subtle there. Leave it to good ol' Cindy Marshall to come up with an idea like this. Her and her big pom-poms.
So the girls will all be dressed in micro-mini's. The guys will all be wearing tuxedos. And if last year's prom was any indication, most of them will look more like Austin Powers than 007. Let's face it, there's a real lack of choice of what to wear to a party like this.
So for advice, I did what I really don't like to do unless I have to - I went to my dad and asked him. He claims to be a James Bond expert. He's read all the books. Has bubble-gum cards from the 1960s. Has a vintage toy gun (which is actually from a TV rip-off of Bond called The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) And he's seen all the movies, "Except for the ones with Roger Moore. You don't even want to go there."
After he insisted that I be home by midnight (on New Years Eve!) he sat me down and put on an old James Bond movie, From Russia With Love - starring the first Bond, Sean Connery. And that's when I decided what I wanted to wear to the party. I'm going to go as Rosa Klebb. She's this Russian spy who is an expert on torture and killing people. In the movie she's middle-aged, kinda ugly, never smiles and just might be butch. But I won't pay any attention to that part.
What was cool about Rosa Klebb was her shoes. Right near the end of the movie, there's a scene where she's disguised like a maid and comes to James Bond's hotel room to kill him. He knocks the gun out of her hand and then she clicks her heels together and this poisoned razor-sharp dagger comes out the toe. Just like a switch-blade knife. And she starts trying to kick him. I know it sounds dumb but it was really pretty exciting.
So that's what I'm going to do for the party. Rent a French Maid's costume (and Cindy and all the other girls are thinking that they're going to look so sexy in their micro black or silver cocktail dresses - well, wait till they get a load of me,) And then glue a cardboard "dagger" painted silver onto the tip of my right shoe. I'll look hot - and I won't look exactly the same as every other girl there.
Not only will I save many $$$ on a dress - but anyone there who actually knows their Bond will applaud me for making an obscure pop-culture reference that will be over the heads of everyone else. There's nothing cooler than letting people think you're the hippest person in the room.
Either that or I'll just rent a tuxedo. borrow my dad's toy spy-gun and go around all night introducing myself as "Bond. Jane Bond." That would be cool too. Some guys like that kinda thing.
Not that I ever get what I really want for Christmas. My old man is always bragging about how he once met Prime Minister Chretien. So for the past five years I've been after him to use his influence to reunite my favorite band, Our Lady Mother Peace. But he never does. He just smirks and makes some comment about how Rainey is no John Lennon.
But I've got other problems. More important ones than my parents. Them, I can handle. But there are certain things in this life that I have little control over. Like what in the world do you possibly wear to a "James Bond-themed" New Years Eve Party?!? This boy from school? Billy Dunkenfield? He's a senior, you know. Anyways, he asks me out for New Years Eve. And then after I say, sure whatever, he tells me we're going to a James Bond party at Cindy Marshall's house.
So, I'm thinking - James Bond? I've never even seen a James Bond movie in my entire life. Hey, I'm only 17 fukkin' years old! And then - Cindy Marshall? You mean, like the head cheerleader at school? The one who never speaks to me - or people like me? The one we all refer to as "the Prettiest Girl in Puppet-land." She's also the one with the big sweaters and is always bragging about how rich her father is because he's not only head of the Parks Department but owns a car dealership as well. Billy says this party is going to be catered and kind of formal and to be sure to dress up.
Yep, nothing like being under a bit of pressure. I mean, if you are a woman, just what do you wear to a fancy party like this? I may not have ever seen a James Bond movie, but I have heard of 'Bond girls' before. And I know that every girl there is going to be dressed like some kind of sex-goddess skank. I've looked up the credits to Bond movies and the names alone say it all - Xenia Onatopp, Pussy Galore, Ursula Undress. Nope, nothing too subtle there. Leave it to good ol' Cindy Marshall to come up with an idea like this. Her and her big pom-poms.
So the girls will all be dressed in micro-mini's. The guys will all be wearing tuxedos. And if last year's prom was any indication, most of them will look more like Austin Powers than 007. Let's face it, there's a real lack of choice of what to wear to a party like this.
So for advice, I did what I really don't like to do unless I have to - I went to my dad and asked him. He claims to be a James Bond expert. He's read all the books. Has bubble-gum cards from the 1960s. Has a vintage toy gun (which is actually from a TV rip-off of Bond called The Man from U.N.C.L.E.) And he's seen all the movies, "Except for the ones with Roger Moore. You don't even want to go there."
After he insisted that I be home by midnight (on New Years Eve!) he sat me down and put on an old James Bond movie, From Russia With Love - starring the first Bond, Sean Connery. And that's when I decided what I wanted to wear to the party. I'm going to go as Rosa Klebb. She's this Russian spy who is an expert on torture and killing people. In the movie she's middle-aged, kinda ugly, never smiles and just might be butch. But I won't pay any attention to that part.
What was cool about Rosa Klebb was her shoes. Right near the end of the movie, there's a scene where she's disguised like a maid and comes to James Bond's hotel room to kill him. He knocks the gun out of her hand and then she clicks her heels together and this poisoned razor-sharp dagger comes out the toe. Just like a switch-blade knife. And she starts trying to kick him. I know it sounds dumb but it was really pretty exciting.
So that's what I'm going to do for the party. Rent a French Maid's costume (and Cindy and all the other girls are thinking that they're going to look so sexy in their micro black or silver cocktail dresses - well, wait till they get a load of me,) And then glue a cardboard "dagger" painted silver onto the tip of my right shoe. I'll look hot - and I won't look exactly the same as every other girl there.
Not only will I save many $$$ on a dress - but anyone there who actually knows their Bond will applaud me for making an obscure pop-culture reference that will be over the heads of everyone else. There's nothing cooler than letting people think you're the hippest person in the room.
Either that or I'll just rent a tuxedo. borrow my dad's toy spy-gun and go around all night introducing myself as "Bond. Jane Bond." That would be cool too. Some guys like that kinda thing.
posted by Sonny Drysdale at 1:29 AM
4 Comments:
Three words:
Gold. Body. Paint.
Thanks for the ideas, dudes. That's like a cornucopia of awesome.
Hey fishface, backoff! Sonny and I have first dibs on Sugar Cube.
Hubba Hubba, Goodyear Wubba!
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