Gerta: 1) I can't stand those Mentos commercials! They look as if they were shot in Europe, clearly using annoyance potential as the prime factor in casting, and are set to an insipid, upbeat jingle sung in English. Words cannot express my reaction to the Mentos promotion machine! 2) Women who mistakenly assume I have psychic powers and both fear and hate me as a result! 3) Oodles of Noodles et al. have buttloads of fat. Give the working poor something healthy to eat! 4) Adding to Trixie's fourth outrage, I wish the Gourmet Brothers would put up or shut up! In other words, I'm talking about going head to head in a cook-off, with the losers revealing all: birth name, astrological sign, beauty secrets and toilet habits! 5) I am a stereotypical single woman with cats - no outrage there. This past holiday season, every single relative went all out and gave me something related to cats - unattractive, cutesy jewelry, stupid books and toys with which my lazy ass cats will never play. This is more outrageous than all the Mentos commercials put together!
Harriet: I found strange pubic hairs on my toilet. Dirty, dirty!
Prudence: I have several outrages, but they're are too outrageous to be printed!
Scorecard:
Karaoke: success
Sharp axe: inadvertent failure
Overall: success!
Resolution for 1994: I'd like to make 1994 a year to accessorize. Also, to get my blender fixed.
Harriet: My New Year's resolution of 1993 was a big success. Not only did I resist the urge to perm and frost my hair, but I also didn't cut my hair at all or even enter a beauty shop (but Daisy is still nagging me to frost my hair).
Scorecard:
No perm: success
No frosting: success
Overall: success!
Resolution for 1994: My resolution is to be a musical guest at the next.Superclamp prom. I also vow to stop picking my nose in public.
Trixie: The Year in Review
My official resolution for '93, getting my Jandek records back, was easily accomplished since the person with the records reads Superclamp and took the hint. January is not the only time for resolutions however; they popped up frequently in 1993 and here's a brief run-down. I resolved in '93 to seek out extra-relationship companionship; nothing came of this against- the-Zeitgeist desire and I had to content myself with reading Kundera novels and watching Rohmer films for perspective. Throughout most of '93, the Clampettes had the desire and, at times, the wherewithal to enter phase six of our multi-media overthrow - - the on-going network series - - but we never got our butts in gear enough to film even a practice episode. During the summer, I resolved to establish good credit by applying for a VISA card. Alas, it's too late for my credit already; I was turned down for the VISA. In September I decided to start saying "get out of town" more. I easily worked that into my repertoire. In October, establishing an ongoing relationship between Wifflefist and Superclamp was a priority; this can be counted as a partial success at best (though the prom was a resounding success). Related to this, my plan to learn to play "Popcorn" on the Moog synthesizer also failed through lack of practice. In December I developed the most interesting resolution of the year - to log in more quality hours sitting on the Zen Frisbee couch. This plan burned within me until I asked one Frisbee how he'd like it if I did this. His answer ("I'd love it") thrilled me so deeply that I felt any further contact would be anti-climactic and dropped my plan then and there.
Scorecard:
Jandek records: success
Affair: failure
Film-making: failure
VISA card: failure
Saying "get out of town:" success
Playing the Moog: failure
Living ZF lifestyle: failure
Overall: failure!
Resolution for 1994: This year I resolve to branch out as a Stay Free! writer, and plan specifically to rival Dave from Trash as a reviewer. (I couldn't help but notice that last year's "Dave's Oscar Picks" wasn't very prescient).
Gerta: The Year in Review
My one and only New Year's resolution for '93 was to make the vibraphone connection. Unfortunately this was a complete failure, but only due to finances and opportunity, not for lack of desire. I have since altered this resolution to making the vibraphone connection in my lifetime. In the spring I vowed to recommence running as a form of exercise and now I log about six miles a day - success! I did not vow to have sex in '93, nor did I have sex in '93 (although Prudence thought maybe I did). Nothing ventured, nothing gained - failure! At Harriet's baby shower in May, I realized that my non-pregnant status gave me free reign to expose myself to any number of chemicals, thus I resolved to fulfill my dream of being a red-headed vixen. I spent the next five months as the aforementioned vixen, receiving compliments on my lovely tresses left and right (although my grandfather, who never even saw me as a redhead, said he thought that shade would be particularly unflattering on me) - success! My desire to attend a prom led to the Superclamp/Wifflefist prom in November with mixed results. I avoided my prom date, Skip, and so angered him that he told "everyone" in Raleigh never to date me. Clearly an unadulterated success. Though I did manage to lure a boy I found most appealing to the prom, this experience only lent credence to a sad truth: sometimes the huntress gets captured by the game. Disaster, heartbreak and failure, failure, failure! Also in November, I became determined to see Frank Sinatra in concert no matter what this entailed, a trip to Vegas, Atlantic City - anything! Soon afterwards, I procured tickets to see the Chairman of the Board closer to my usual stomping grounds (Wilmington, NC) in 1994. Success, but only as long as Frank doesn't die first. In December I decided to throw a dinner party and get drunk for the first time in 16 months. Three glasses of wine later, I was unable to distinguish my driver's license from my teller card. Success! I finished off '93 by exercising my ability to introduce melodrama into family situations, forcing my relatives to keep the conversation light while thinking to themselves, "why won't she get out of bed?" Success!
Scorecard:
Vibraphone: failure
Running: success
Sex: failure
Vixen status: success
Prom date 1: success
Prom date 2: failure, failure, failure
Date with Frank: success probable, but not certain
Pathetic drunkenness: success
Melodramatic flair/crying in bed: success
Overall: success!
Resolution for 1994: Perhaps I have focused only on the positive, but it seems to me that 1993 was a very good year, as opposed to 1994 where already I have found myself with a new reason to cry every single week. Even so, I'm forging ahead with my one and only resolution for '94: public nudity. More specifically, bare breasts. I must confess that I have had second thoughts since recently flashing my lace-encased derriere in front of local legal hero Big Al McSurely (this was of course at a party, not during a private consultation). Oh well, like Edith Piaf (the immortal little sparrow of France) says, "no regrets!"
Dear Superclamp,
I've read your little publication only a few times, so I can't say too much about you due to my lack of knowledge. But from what I've read, you all are a bunch of way past college age girls who think they are just the shit. First of all, from what I can tell, you are all way past college age. The paper that your feature appears in deals with UNC a lot, and the clues that I have picked up, i.e. "I watched Square Pegs," "in my mid-twenties" lets (sic) me know that some of you are older than the average college student. Secondly, your constant put downs and ridiculing of males shows me that you must have a hard time finding dates. For example, the "Win-a-Date Contest." Due to your obvious lack of male attention, you have to resort to a contest to force guys to go out with you. This hole in your life obviously creates the anger that causes you to be so hard on guys. The K.O.F. instinctively knew your plight and hence used and abused you to his and his friends' delight. The intellectual smugness your articles are riddle with is merely a cover for your insecurity and deep longing. I hope this letter puts all of you in your place.
Sincerely,
Cameron Chilton
P.S. Who gives a shit about Zen Frisbee?
They suck!
Gerta: I clearly understand Cameron's point: that the Clampettes are greater than, but not equal to, the age range of 18 to 22. However, I do not understand why this is a pertinent issue, particularly since we Clampettes have never stretched the truth where age is concerned (unlike other subject areas broached in these pages). Furthermore, he does himself a disservice by being so redundant, making me suspect this is one college-aged boy who is not taking advantage of all his educational opportunities! I must take issue with Cameron's charge of intellectual smugness on our part - not so! Now if he'd postulated that we Clampettes have too damn much savoir fair for our own good and should hustle our butts on over to the next Mentos commercial shoot*, I'd give that boy a big fat bravo. As it is, even I am hard pressed to classify our writings as intellectual, but I'll grudgingly concede points for smugness. My final critique concerns the lack of dates/hole in life/anger diatribe. It is a well kept secret that most of the Clampettes are married or living in sin. We all receive plenty of male attention, however those of us who are single or are seeking extra-relationship companionship do suffer from a lack of attention from specific males (or too much attention from the wrong males). As Dean Martin once sang, "ain't that a kick in the head!" More than anything else though, I worry about young Cameron and his fragile illusions. Just imagine what's going to happen when he finds out how old the Trash staff is!
*In the style of Cameron, I do not explain the logical connection between savoir faire and Mentos commercials. So as not to leave anyone in the dark, I am implying that Mentos commercials appear to be shot in Europe and that Europeans have savoir faire, hence the inter-relatedness of two seemingly disparate elements.
2. Have you entered the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes?
Prudence: As a toilet-paper-on-the-seat (two layers) person since early adolescence, I've had to conceal that reality from my mother (a squatter), and so it is a method I've come to associate with a certain degree of guilt. I envy women with the stamina and control necessary to avoid splattering all over oneself, however, I wish they would lift the seat... No, I did not enter the Publisher's Clearinghouse or any sweepstakes.
Trixie: I don't squat unless the toilet seat is especially dirty or, well, visibly dirty at all. It's the squatters of the world who ruin it for the rest of us, since it's impossible, while sitting normally, to tinkle on the seat. My squatting is particularly hazardous to others, since I am so constructed that my urine flows markedly to the left. I would never squat at a friend's house. No (to question #2), though I did recently fall prey to a door-to-door sales pitch (not magazines).
Gerta: I can answer both squatting questions with a resounding NO! Quite frankly, I never even knew squatting existed, and now that I do know about this practice I've come to the conclusion that it is stupid, pointless and messier than the mess squatters are attempting to avoid. While home for the holidays, I polled my female relatives and discovered that they all squat when using public restrooms. Since all of these old gals took me to the bathroom when I was young, I wondered why I never picked up on this hallowed tradition (but then again, why did my mother never talk to ma about menstruation or sex?!!) Obviously at that time I was too short to manage a squat, thus my female kin taught me the old toilet paper on the seat routine. As an adult, I rarely perform even this sanitary ritual. In light of the fact that I've never had a single infection, disease or parasite anywhere near my nether regions, I just can't bring myself to worry over this issue, although certainly I draw the line at plopping my butt and thighs down on somebody else's waste product! Honestly, I'm more vexed by my recent bout with the flu which left my nose stuffed up, thus impairing my ability to smell my own end product for at least two weeks! Last but not least, I did enter the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, and two times no less!
Harriet: I always squat in public restrooms because my mother raised me to believe that toilet seats are dirty, DIRTY! So whenever I'm in a public restroom and go to squat I can hear my mother's voice, "dirty, dirty!" I don't squat at girlfriends' houses, but when I pee at guys' houses and don't squat I still hear "dirty, dirty!" In response to question #2, I entered just because Tom Brokaw was going to announce the winner on TV, but then I forgot to watch.