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2006: Scotch, Topless Skateboarding and Midwest Noodling
December 28, 2006
JANUARY
Discovered the joy of Weltschmerz—a kind of sentimental melancholy
caused by the feeling of having known perfect joy and then forever
longing for it—and reminisced about a relationship in Santa Cruz that
had a profound effect on me. Introduced you to Alex, an old high-school
friend, and shared some of his e-musings. Told you about my grandmother
and her famous Scotch drinking then went back home for a visit.
FEBRUARY
Explained how growing up in Palm Springs was decidedly less Rat Pack
and more neon-thongs-on-crotch-rockets glamour, went to a few
gay-fabulous bars on another visit, and said goodbye to Grandma with
her friends at a cocktail party in her honor. Found out who you are by
making you fill out a survey, discovered we have a lot in common,
mainly our "writing music, eating fried chicken, drinking bourbon and
masturbating." Plus, what I've learned in love from watching cheesy
romantic comedies, and the "thrill of possibilities" with dancer David
Ward.
MARCH
Got slammed at Maui Booksellers. Read a lot, including one woman's
experience as a naked human sushi table. Went out on a date—with
myself—to Ray's and then Charley's, where really sweaty men wanted to
hug me and make me buy them drinks. Found out what people were giving
up for Lent and made a list of my own that so did not include
chocolate. Gave you a Bad Girls of Pulp Fiction rundown of my recent
shenanigans, featuring Sasha's unforgettable topless skateboarding down
Main Street.
APRIL
Mourned the tragic loss of my best auto-buddy, Rocky. Gave you my
Top Fives in disturbing turn-ons, unnecessary purchases that made me
very happy, and places I wish I was instead of writing the column, like
in my bed with Viggo Mortensen, a bottle of Scotch, a book of poetry,
dark chocolate, some matches, a Swiss army knife and Josh Hartnett in
red lipstick and black eyeliner. Spent a salacious night in a Hana
cabin with five girls. Told you about my daily soundtracks, including
what I listen to when I'm dancing around my living room in my
underwear.
MAY
Had a week not unlike Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, featuring '80s prom and
cross-dressing parties and more. Made you take a dating quiz where, if
you're prone to nude hunting for wild boar, you win a date w.ith me.
Also, gave some sage advice—to myself—about unrequited love, threesomes
and accepting a new standard for happiness that doesn't necessarily
involve marriage and kids. Struggled with appropriate subject matter
for the column, toyed with the notion of writing about Midwest noodling
and wearing adult-sized duck costumes.
JUNE
Drank to erase memories of cockroaches in my cleavage, watched too
much CSI, and got numbed by the number of payments left on my student
loan. Finished my memoir-ish, pre-Maui Time saga to complete all my
lurid background details about sex, drugs, rock & roll and
scholastics you could ever want. Told you what's new in the business of
breakups, including Revisionist Romance Disorder and Bob's Backburner
Strategy.
JULY
Went to a Sexual Chemistry class, learned to blame everything on
hormones, and discovered that the evil of excess estrogen lies in the
use of Teflon cooking pans and (gasp) chocolate, but that the
aphrodisiacal and otherwise benefits of cacao far outweigh its
malevolence (yippee!). Explained my philosophies on the ole "biological
clock" and how I am not interested in fixing my watch. Confessed that
I've seen every Keanu Reeves movie from 1986 to 2005, without really
trying. Really!
AUGUST
Realized shopping for a car is much like searching for Mr. Right and
that, at least for now, he didn't take the shape of an early '90s gold
Volvo station wagon. Told you of my most secret Sapphic desires and
experiences, which did NOT involve Angelina Jolie or Girls Gone Wild
videos. Answered your most common questions, introduced you to my new
ride—and new man.
SEPTEMBER
Defined my current state of affairs according to Newton's Laws of
Motion then went to New York, where I delighted in cornfields, RV
karaoke-ing, dive bars and upscale sex boutiques, the surreal rural
beauty of Amish settlements in Pennsylvania and the effect of lobster
risotto on Jen's ability to connect with strangers.
OCTOBER
Shocked you—and myself—with my newfound relationship status,
discovered the world isn't coming to an end and that I should work at
McDonald's. Then I really pissed you off by surveying people's very
real misfortunes with sexual injuries, which, in essence, reconfirmed
why I do what I do and write about it, "chafed vagina" and all. Gave
you my Halloween Top Fives, including what things scare me (e.g. Gumby)
and what horror films make me hot (like Hellraiser).
NOVEMBER
Described my first fateful meeting with the man who would soon wake
himself up with thunderous farts in my bed and capture my heart. Went
out solo to Charley's and became enamored with a gay ex-con who wasn't
gay, quizzed you on which Maui Time staffer eats peanut butter and
takes dates to Black Flag concerts. Became a cheerleader for Sweet
Action magazine, a cool new artistic porn rag for girls. Obsessed on
television series generally involving New York City, psychic DA
assistants, and Hollywood's hateful schedule.
DECEMBER
Shared letters from Jen, who'd recently moved back home to
Philadelphia and was having a hard time adjusting, got sucked into an
afternoon of watching Lifetime holiday movies about successful
journalists who fall madly in love with each other, and pickpocketers
who fall in love with department store security guards. Then Krista and
I had double shopping orgasms, and met Jersey Boy. What's next?
Samantha Campos resolves to pray more in 2007. MTW