First, Maroon 5 appears to be stalking me. They were the lead entertainment at the Global Green party, and then they showed up again in my email today. Two occasions for interaction in a week—it’s clear they are now following me 😉 The email was part of a casting call for their new music video. They were looking for someone hot (um… strike 1 for Kate), someone tall (ha!… strike 2 for Kate) and someone exotic (well, that’s me—if you find Laura Ingalls exotic). Needless to say, I won’t be lining up for their video any time soon. But they are still stalking me. That much is clear.
Second, according to the ads I keep seeing on myspace, Boyfriend Season is right around the corner. My immediate thought was, “Shit, as usual, I have nothing to wear”. Is Boyfriend Season like Oscar season? Do I need a dress for each event? Or is it more like the holidays, where there are parties involving copious amounts of food, drink and resolutions for the New Year? Who exactly gets the gifts during Boyfriend Season?
Or maybe it is more like hunting season. It makes sense now why I haven’t been able to pick up one of those boys in a great, long while. I didn’t know there was a season, and I must have been hunting out of season. Everyone knows you can’t hunt off season—boys are hibernating off-season. You can only get a license to date during those specific, pre-ordained, federally-mandated times.
My fear is that Boyfriend Season (from here on known as B.S.) is actually designed to be more like bathing suit season—which in Los Angeles is approximately 10 months out of the year of pure torture. I can see the similarities now: unappealing lighting, feeling fat, desperately trying to keep my top on…. I imagine trying to get a boy that fits is every bit as challenging as finding a suit that fits my ass, with all the attendant expectations that the magical “one” will make me deliriously happy (or at least make me look fitter, tanner and more engaging).
Much like bathing suit season, I fear I’ll have to work out in order to be ready for B.S. here in LA. Apparently, I’ll need to be plucked, waxed and buffed for B.S. My nails will be done. I will be lotioned. And though it could end well (or at least without incident), I will look upon B.S. with much trepidation.
So, get ready ladies, B.S. is coming 😉
Kate, prepping for B.S. in LA