The title comes from a delightful song that goes, I wanna be a cowgirl, but ooo I'm scared of cows, oo oo oo how they scare me! I don't remember who sings it. For some reason my mental B-side for this is another song from the yonks ago of my late teens, listening to public radio:
Iiiii... want... to be... the first! dyke! on Dynasty! I want a lavender Mercedes-Benz, so I'll be the envy of all my f*ggot friends!... (several verses including something about having a Joan Collins on the rocks)... and just before she kicks, I'll be the last of Barbara Stanwyck's tricks! First dyke on Dyna-nothingcouldbefiner than to name a fragrance for me!... First dyke on Dyna-I'll kill all my kin off and I'll star in my own spinoff!... First dyke on Dyyyyy naaaa styyyyy!
I'm not sure how we swerved from charming to semi-tasteless so quickly, but let's just say it's a well-worn path.
To again make a Vanna-gesture at Bossy, her link yesterday to "Cows and the Classical Positions of Ballet" is worth the click. Especially if you ever used to spend grim hours practicing fifth position, left hand on back of chair, chin inclined and face composed to reflect the haughty suffering of a Bolshoi hopeful, telling yourself that the stand-in for Flashdance didn't even start dancing until she was 15.
Did I ever tell the story about how in high school my friend Marjan and I were so enthralled with White Nights that we resolved to come to school the next day wearing white sweatshirts and band-aids on our foreheads? (If you've seen the movie, you understand.)
We did, and we spent the day being very pleased with ourselves, not to mention cautiously hopeful for our prospects of getting out of Siberia and not breaking Helen Mirren's heart again. Strong Russian accents were utilized all day with true Brezhnevian passion (it was still a world where Gorbachev was just the latest commie), and I'm sure these accents were very accurate and pleasing to hear.
However, as I recall, our classmates and teachers were mostly concerned with our head injuries. Sigh. People! People who didn't think crocheted bun-snoods would replace jelly wrist bracelets. They Just. Don't. Get It.
P.S. 11 rubles? 45 cents.
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