As promised, today’s topic is “skanks.” Yesterday I brought the latest copy of Rolling Stone into work for a coworker who recently admitted to me that he found Mariah Carey to be incredibly sexy.
“Oh,” he said, “to be a bead of sweat . . .” This prompted a discussion among our group on the topic of skanks and why men find them sexy. The three women of the group all expressed nothing but contempt for the vacuous tart (though I admit I find the movie Glitter to be outrageously entertaining).
Two males of the group agreed on a few key points. One, that Mariah is, in fact, hot. Two, that her seemingly complete lack of intelligence or sanity increases her desirability. Three, that the first two facts should never, ever be repeated in front of a girlfriend or wife. You see, Mariah is a skank. There’s something appealing (so says my male coworkers) about a skank.
I peppered my coworker with more questions. If he had the chance to fulfill his Mimi desire and his wife gave the okay, would he? Yes. Even, I asked, with the idiocy, and the craziness? He replied, “I said I’d do her, not have tea with her.”
“What if your wife didn’t know,” I asked. No. “What if you weren’t married, would you want to date Mariah?” No. “What if Mariah weren’t crazy, would you still want to sleep with her?” No.
He told me that if Mariah was a nice, smart librarian, he’d have no interest at all. He said that objectively speaking, she really isn’t that fantastically hot — it’s her lowered intelligence and weirdness that really makes him want to hop in bed with her. To prove his point, he turned to another guy and said, “Come on, which is hotter: Angelina Jolie now, or Angelina Jolie seven years ago when she was making out with her brother and carrying around vials of blood?” Before he could respond, the office erupted into a fiery debate over whether or not Angelina Jolie is hot (three women and a man said no, one woman and two men said yes).
Finally the discussion turned to male skanks, and whether or not women were equally as drawn in. I climbed atop my high horse and stated that I was most attracted to men of wit and intelligence, and would never be interested in a skank. The other women nodded their heads.
“Come on,” my friend said, “there must be one.” We shook our heads and sat for a moment in silence.
“Okay,” said one female coworker. “The guy from Aerosmith.”
I was horrified. Steven Tyler? “No,” she said in disgust, “The other one, Joe Perry.”
She went home at lunch and brought back this photo, which she hung in her cube.
Mariah Carey? Joe Perry? Couldn’t they at least pick people with talent? But it was explained to me again that the entire point is that they’re completely vacant. They are objects to be observed, studied, and fucked. That is it.
I went back to my desk, convinced that I would just never understand.
And then it hit me.
“Who’s the Irish guy, with the dark eyes? The one who trashes hotel rooms and has never starred in a movie I’ve actually seen?”
“Oh, yeah,” said a female coworker, nodding her head. “Colin Farrell. Good one.”
Huh. Okay, maybe. Maybe.
Please note the use of pictures in this post. See? I read your comments and emails and I take action! Customer service at its best.