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...a sweatshop of moxie

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Rosetta Stoned

Poor old Michael Phelps. Not only has he totally let himself go (noes!), but he was recently outed as a stoner by a South Carolinian snitch who sold the photo to that guttersnipe tabloid, News of the World.

When I was a wee girlie, about 12 or so, I got it into my head that I wanted a huqqah collection.

I even dragged one back from a trip to Turkey, where my mother had performed one of her magic haggling acts at the famous Istanbul souk, to buy me a beauty in blue glass for just a few dollars. You can imagine the sight of a pre-teen girl lugging a bong from an airplane, alongside her two glamourous parents. Try that in post-9/11 airports.

In time, I think I had about 8 of them, which I lined up in my very big girlhood bedroom, next to the princess four poster bed, decked out in Hello Kitty pillows and Pratesi sheets. I had a nightlight which I turned on before sleeping, and I loved to look at the sparkly reflections they cast all over the walls, reds, greens, blues, ambers -- a carousel of iridescence.

I loved those huqqahs, which sadly I lost sight of in my many moves.

The thing of it is, like many many people in this world (far more than popular society would have you believe), I have never actually done any drugs in my life -- including that charming gateway drug, Mary Jane.

Mind you, I probably qualify as a second-hand smoker, like that first snowboarding gold medalist sheepishly claimed once, so I'm leaving myself that out.

But no, in real terms, your humble Sundries blogger is a weed-toking virgin.

This is why Phelps' photo above leaves me completely untouched with either outrage, or approbium. I look at it like others would a vintage car rally. Potentially full of fun, just not my scene.

So I went in search of bong photos which raised more emotion in me, than a gentle shrug of the shoulders. I think I found some beauts!

Let me walk them through with you.

It's the second glance that kills, because the first has you mesmerised. The contrasting textures: that dark wood, the whiteness of the sweeping calf, the matching seafoam green everywhere else just makes this photo leap out at you.

Then you notice her footsie ring (sooo Goa 1996), the pseudo-hippie paint on her feet, not to mention those hip-hugging Pucci pants, just before you ugh loudly at the blue Bic resting on her boob. I mean, at least get a Ronson.

This is what I imagine Claud Rains would look like if the Invisible Man were a stoner.

You know what I hate most about bong photos? That most of the people in these photographs are surely no strangers to the activity -- but almost without exception, they and the people around them look like they're seeing one of the great wonders of all time, for the very first frikkin' time. That look of delight mixed with amazement and near reverence should really only be given when beholding the Sphinx, or a child's smile.


Also, that gal's bra strap is showing. THUNDEROUS DISAPPROVAL.

This is either that girl's father, dragging the embarrassed Chloë Sevigny wannabe for a hit of the bong alongside dear old dad, or one of those school counsellors we all had in high school, who wanted nothing more than to hang around with the kids to show how cool and with-it he was.

And yes, I did take note of the Dolphins hat. Go Fish...

Sorry. I got nothing. It's just a crazily hair-dyed Oregon girl inside a messy kitchen, toking on a bong. You've seen one, you've seen the entire Pacific Northwest.

Anyway, I'm much more interested in her espresso maker in the back. Paging Chickenlittle!

No, it's not Nana McCain. I checked.

I Dream of Jeannie with the long bong hit.

She looks like she's in some kind of trance [edit: oh yeah, it's called "getting high"], and I actually love this photo because it only shows you half of her face. If she were about 20 lbs chubbier, we could assign her Odalisque status, minus the hovering black Sudanese mammy, and the bleeding dove, obviously.

Also, me like the colour of her duvet, though I am saddened to see no hint of Hello Kitty anywhere.

Stop the presses!! This is THE BONG PIC to end all bong pics. There is just so much there.

Okay, I'll go first. Impressed that he has a photo on his wall of Al Capone, and not the requisite one of Che Guevara. But that's about it as far as thumbs uppage goes.

If it's not the boom box with the Jack In The Box antenna fob (don't let Jack die!), it's the Schlitz bottle shading the root beer next to it, not to mention the tawdry awfulness of his graffiti-laden couch. You gotta know they must practise their drawings on it first.

Poor guy, he must live in a studio apartment with at least two other guys who think taking another bong hit will make the rat nest sounds go away.

...there but for the grace of God goes Michael Phelps though. He looks bloody awful in that photo above.

Message to Mike: When you start looking like Ben Roethlisberger even without the bong, it's time to sort yourself out, mate.

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  • First, you must go here:


    Greatest blog masthead ever!

    Plus, the dude in the Capone pic does have a 3D Mohawk and is wearing the Classic DK's T-shirt. His couch though, is Upchuck in Mauve...

    If "Genie" wants a hit off my bong, she'd better say "Yes, master", if you see where I'm goin' here...

    With the "red haired girl" that looks more like a Kitchen Aid Mixer than a coffee machine, though I could be wrong.

    By Blogger Ron, at Sun Feb 08, 02:54:00 am GMT-5  

  • http://www.kittyhell.com/

    Hey Ron! Haven't seen you too much of late. Thought about you tonight when I caught bits of Singin' in the Rain. :)

    Thanks for the tip, too! Hold that kitty thought, though. I have something ALONG those lines planned for Monday.

    Hey remember Barbara Eden had a sister played by herself on that show? What was her name? Serena? Sabrina? Quick, to the IMDB cave, batman!

    (Yeah, you're probs right about the Mixer. Oh well. She's just a skank then)


    By Blogger vbspurs, at Sun Feb 08, 03:04:00 am GMT-5  

  • Vic, I miss our chats!

    had a good birthday...

    By Blogger Ron, at Sun Feb 08, 03:58:00 am GMT-5  

  • I'm afraid I'm not much help with that coffee/juicer machine- I doubt these folks care either.
    I'm a happy Saeco camper--makes the best push button at-home espresso ever (if you can afford it).

    You are amazing Victoria! hugs and smooches!

    By Blogger chickenlittle, at Sun Feb 08, 04:17:00 am GMT-5  

  • Another non-rec-drug user, eh? Er, wait, no, that should be a rec-drug non-user So there are two of us, at least. (I'm also a non-rec-drug non-user.)

    Hello, Kitty? No, Hello, Cthulhu!

    By Blogger blake, at Sun Feb 08, 04:20:00 am GMT-5  

  • "That look of delight mixed with amazement and near reverence should really only be given when beholding the Sphinx, or a child's smile."

    Maybe by a woman, but it's a sad, sad man who no longer flashes that expression upon seeing...

    By Blogger JSU, at Sun Feb 08, 04:47:00 am GMT-5  

  • Yeah, there's an argument to be made about standards and Olympic athletes, then again, weed seems to be among the more benign drugs many of them use (see Doping for Gold some time) and how old is the guy? 22? 23? That doesn't excuse him from all consequences but I think he deserves just a little bit of leeway.

    Herro Kitties Lounge Taoyuan Airport, Taiwan. They also have a Hello Kitty airplane.

    By Anonymous Starless, at Sun Feb 08, 09:10:00 am GMT-5  

  • Did you forget to resurrect the picture of Rose Kennedy Schlossberg and her bongy pal which I discovered on this very sweatshop of moxie?

    By Blogger Ruth Anne Adams, at Sun Feb 08, 10:39:00 am GMT-5  

  • ...Rose Kennedy Schlossberg

    LOL Ruth Anne

    By Blogger chickenlittle, at Sun Feb 08, 10:43:00 pm GMT-5  

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