Tuesday, December 9, 2008

If I had a rich man II

I am not sure what excites me more: the rich-man-beautiful-young-woman phenomenon, or saying "you are not a meat" with a fake Eastern European accent. Thankfully, this post will allow me to do both - to sit with one ass on two chairs, as they say in Magnitogorsk.

First, please read this stunningly funny piece from Vanity Fair. Uncertain how to qualify it, I decided to call it hyperbole. Period. Be sure to use the proper accent: it's just not the same if you read the tale of Svetlana Egorova in your pretentiously proper waspy tone (grrr, pronouncing all the t's!). TRY! And if you fail miserably at immitating Georgy Petrov, call jumco and ask him to read the article over the phone to you - the man is a closet ruski.
She is buying so much of the Valentino and Prada for that every day is a fashion show in her dressing suite for the stylists to show her what is coming in new. She is exhausting but she is always thinking how must it be for women who are not sample sizes and have to tailor?
Moving on.

In the wilderness of the interweb tubes I came across the following list of the Top 10 Trophy Wives (and one husband): "...not all trophy wives are empty vessels or with much older men. They are, however, the better-looking half. [...] note that we excluded athletes' trophy wives because there are just way too many to choose from." I think I should call this fantasy, for however hard I might try, I am never making it onto any Trophy Wives list. Not that I don't want to, but my legs and my temper are too short, and there are waaaaay too few millionaires in my surroundings. Which is truly sad, because I really could use a bottomless pocket. And if the depth of the pocket is directly proportional to the length of legs, then I should at least be getting something... I'll just assume that all the bankers are slightly preoccupied with a financial crisis of some kind, and have to postpone proposing to me.

Moving on.

It seems to be time to face the harsh reality. Ready for the headliner? This is the one! It's coming, and don't tell me I didn't warn you!

As previously established, not all gorgeous girls (read: self) end up with spending accounts and rich husbands. Some of them get crappy paying office jobs, blog, and live out their days in boring mediocrity. Others, however, reach for the stars and actually make something of themselves. Read on and be inspired, my friends. Dare to live and be useful! Start your own party! End discrimination! Make a difference! Make a movie! Make love! Especially if it's well paid. For further instructions, below please find an interview from the summer issue of Russia! - an NYC-based English language magazine that happens to 1) make fun of Motherland, 2) be edited by my newly-devirtualized friend Michael Idov (find him on Amazon and NYMag). This interview lifts up a corner of the curtain* and gives the reader a glipse into the mysterious and misunderstood real Russian soul. And even though "[s]he’s a strong and independent woman", to quote the heroine, "without a man, she probably isn’t too happy." I beg you to read to the end.
R!: Why do you think American men have such a thing for Russian women?

LB: Oh, we’ll be here all day if you want me to explain that one, but really there is that idea that the most beautiful women in the world are in Russia. But it’s more than that. Russian women know how to feel their men. We know what our men want and what they need at each moment. We’re more attuned to our men.
I think now I can begin writing my dissertation in women hating. As soon as I find someone to sponsor me and my closet for the decade it will take me to finish my masterpiece.

Thank you for listening. Over and out.

*blame Magnitogorsk for all these translated idioms


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