Thursday, October 21, 2010

"Turn a sky black into a sky blue...

...turn a close shave into a 'woohoo!'" 40 Dogs (Romeo and Juliette) by Bob Schneider

Hello, loves!

So in the next week or so we are moving into our townhouse!!! I'm so excited to be getting out of the dreamland. It's been a cramped little month, but it was good to have a place. I think Irony will be glad to get out of it too!

We did our final walk-through today to decide if we wanted it and overwhelmingly we decided we did. :) There was one moment where my husband stood in the living room with his arms open wide and said, "This room alone is bigger than the space we've lived in the last month!"

Ahhhh.

Soon you will get my breakdown of the ideal usage of our new space, along with my inspiration board pictures. :) But for now, here is the quaint blue-and-yellow exterior of our delightful townhouse!



Love!

Monday, October 18, 2010

"Created for a place I've never known...

...this is home, now I'm finally where I belong." Home by Switchfoot.

My precious husband took me on an adventure during his days off, our little "weekend" which was actually Thursday and Friday last week.

In his ongoing campaign to endear Kentucky to me, he took me out in all the autumn splendor to see Cumberland Falls and Arch National Park in the Daniel Boone National Forest.

It was splendid.

We drove through lovely woods that were just turning yellow and red.



We got to the lodge and saw the river amidst the turning colors--it was so pretty, and it couldn't have been a more perfect day--cool and crisp and sunny.



And then we got to the falls! They were so pretty and ethereal--the pictures simply don't do it justice. It's known as the "Niagra of the South" because it's the biggest waterfall southwest of Niagra and East of the Rockies.


And Ryan and I found a heart-shaped leaf. <3

That made us get all mushy and kiss in front of the falls. :)


Then we made our way over to the Arch, about a 20-minute drive from the Falls.


Ryan found a rock to perch on and terrorize other hikers.


We walked through lovely woods for about 10 minutes to get to the Arch.

On the way we were "lost in the wilderness" off the trail. :P


I held the Arch up, once we got there. It's very delicate, according to the literature.

The "dark side" of the arch. :) We walked all the way around the outcropping, then went on to the overlook.


The Arch from the overlook.


Slightly distracted from the view.



Fun day off. :)

Love!

Sunday, October 17, 2010

"Are they laughing at or with me...

...aw, baby, those are such great shoes." At Or With Me by Jack Johnson.

This is a blog about cats and dogs and Michelle Obama.

Randomly, I was made aware of Michelle Obama's new haircut. Ever since our current president entered the national scene, there have been parallels drawn between the current first lady and the legendary First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy. Indeed, in the feminine circles where I run, Jackie is held in fashion and charm esteem only surpassed by the likes of such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. There is a long list of beauty and fashion icons, but beauty paired with the manners and breeding of such as these three keep them on a pedestal. Jackie well earned her place on our list. Take the whole Marilyn Monroe issue--a horrible scandal, yet Jackie maintained a gracious charm. The current first lady does well to try to follow in her footsteps.


In the picture above, (from Obama's inauguration) Michelle wore a clearly vintage-inspired jacket and dress set, which we can only speculate was intended to remind us of Jackie. I have to admit, with all the hype for Michelle's "fabulous" fashion sense, I was disappointed. Not that it wasn't attractive--it was fine. It simply wasn't as good as she could do--yellow probably isn't her best color, nor is that boxy cut the most flattering for her body type. And while I like teal shoes as much as the next person, it was out of place with the occasion, the dress, the mood...I was disappointed.

But this is old news. For a current look at First Lady fashion, the New York magazine has conveniently compiled a 2010 Michelle Obama Stylebook so you can see her latest fashion statements, including her new haircut which, not surprisingly, is very similar to Jackie's classic cut. I have to admit, I really liked the pink Talbots dress and chunky necklace she wears on the campaign trail for this November--but even a chunky necklace can't blind me to the Obamas terrible politics and policies, and the frankly disgusting misuse of American taxpayer dollars with her lavish vacations (notice, "vacations" in the plural) earlier this year. A second parallel that could be drawn is between Michelle and another political-fashion-icon with a spending problem, Marie Antoinette (and I'm not the first to draw this parallel, btw).

But that is enough politics for the moment.

I was sent this op-ed by a friend recently, who knows that I love cats, and I was enchanted. It is so true! Even my husband has made comments about how it's a good thing I didn't get Irony until after I was married to him, or I'd be that crazy, single cat lady. I was insulted, and so was Irony, but both of us were too nicely-brought up to respond rudely. (Ok, maybe I smacked him, but we're all good). Why can people who adore dogs gush about it and go crazy without any fear of social disgrace, while those of us who love cats need to hide it like a nerdy, immature (or premature) obsession with Star Wars?

Think about it. Dogs are messy and loud and large, and unless you have a large yard (which, frankly, most of us don't!) they are high maintenance. And yet so many people, my dear husband included, see nothing hypocritical about saying, "Aw, der's a good boy, sucha good widdle boy!!!!!!" in a ridiculous voice at the sight of any old dog, while he mocks me mercilessly for saying, "Pretty girl, you love mummy don't you, yes darling?" in baby-talk to my cat (at least she's MY cat!).

I'm just sayin'.

And don't get me wrong, I like dogs.

I don't like them on me or in my face or licking me or making me or my things smell, but I like having them around, and I love all the attributes that made them "man's best friend." Once we have a yard, I definitely would support my husband in his desire for a dog. I just had some bad experiences.

There were the big dogs next door who were probably completely harmless, but at age seven, I was terrified as they romped and rolled all over me after knocking me down, and I didn't move till they got distracted (several minutes later) chasing my cat.

Then there was little Pumpkin, the dog I pet-sat, who was fat and constipated, and yipped incessantly, and was unable to wet outdoors, regardless of setting, length of walk, or any other kind of encouragement, but had absolutely no trouble wetting all over the one, single rug in the downstairs tiled area. (Pumpkin's owner, by the way, spent a great many of our conversations informing me of the folly of owning an indoor cat, and how it decreased the value of real estate, while an indoor dog did nothing of the sort. Ha.)

Hmm, maybe we'll see about getting a dog...

No, but I've had good dog experiences too--my in-law's family dog, Ginger, is a dear, and of course there was our old farm dog Bowser, from my childhood. (I called him "Bow" and my sister would always get upset and tell me that it was "Bow with a 'ZER' on the end!")

Ok fine, but I am not walking it. Or cleaning up after it. I'll feed it.

But back to my original point. Cats are self-cleaning (I've had four and cat-sat several more, and I maintain this statement--I have yet to meet these "slob" cats people claim exist), cats are naturally house-trained, and their personal waste is contained, easy to clean, and their bathroom habits need not control the owner's life. Cats are quiet, entertaining, and intelligent. In other words, cats are the perfect pet for a lady, or any other fastidious individual looking for animal companionship.

I am not alone in loving cats--lots of great people agree with me, and by "Great People" I mean people of note, of historical, artistic, literary, or political importance. Off the top of my head:

General Robert E. Lee
Mark Twain who said, "I simply can't resist a cat, especially a purring one."
Vanna White
Andrew Lloyd Webber
Cardinal Richelieu
Queen Victoria
Edger Allen Poe
Florence Nightingale
Charles Lindbergh
John Lennon
Several Popes, Benedict XVI, Leo XII among them
Marie Antoinette (while we're talking about her...)
George Burns
Lord Byron
Presidents Lincoln, TR, Wilson, Ford, Hayes, Kennedy, Coolidge, Carter, Clinton, and W. Bush
Einstein
Dickens
TS Elliot
HG Wells
and of course...Marlon Brando


In fact, I'm pretty sure it was these pictures that convinced my husband that having a cat isn't all that bad. :)


Isn't it ironic?

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

"The sun is rising and I think that's good...

...just now realizing some things you never thought you would." Love The World You Find by The Flaming Lips

Speaking of good, the Cafe on the Square, which is my new favorite hang-out and place to work (since McDonalds, though totally awesome in its own way, is full of creepy people) has won me over completely for this reason:


Yes, that's a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip scone with whipped cream!!!! One of the things that's been a gaping hole in missing home, silly though it is, was the chocolate almond scones from the Coffee Boothe in Los Alamos, and the refillable coffee, and warm, cozy atmosphere, and running into everyone I know...and now I have a little taste of that. And is the whipped cream not a stroke of genius? My coffee-man today just heated up my scone, paused, and dolloped it on there, and handed it to me saying, "I just thought of that. Tell me if it's any good!"

Ha. It's good. Is whipped cream ever NOT good?!?!?!?! Maybe on, like, a hot dog!

But the scone is good on its own, light and fluffy and deliciously fresh. I can live here.



That's where I am these days! Now I just need to make friends so I can run into them at the coffeeshop--though the truth is, most of the people I have met are the people here in the shop (though I haven't learned names yet :/) or at Betty's OK Country Cookin', where my waitress buddy, Sweet-Pea, works. She's got an adorable two-year-old, and I ran into them at Walmart and had a little visit yesterday--that's the sign of true friendship, right?

And now, a little shout-out to Gem, who's celebrating her birthday today!!!! I got to give her first gift of the day, a little mani-pedi set to ward off the "black foot" from the Dreamland's ancient carpeting. :) Happy Birthday, Gem!

Soon (hopefully today) I'll post to let ya'll know what's up with our house-hunt. We've got a pretty sure place, so you'll hear all about it soon! Thanks for your prayers, it's helped a ton!

Love!

Monday, October 11, 2010

"She fills up every corner...

...like she's born in black and white." Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall

Just found A Lovely Being blog, with lots of lovely things. I love in her "about me" section, how she describes herself with this quote:

"She's quick and curious and playful and strong. She is a voracious reader and a fantastic dancer. She saves old scrapbooks and loses her umbrella. Her emails pile up but she never forgets to call her grandmother. She has $7 dollars in change at the bottom of her handbag."- kate spade

Lol, sounds sort of like me!


Also, my favorite is having Ryan home every day. Love!

Saturday, October 09, 2010

"Now it seems...

...I've got my head on straight." Stay Home by Self, off the Shrek Soundtrack

My sister and I had a little miscommunication the other day.

Fred called me up with a work question (we have the same job, reviewing the work of individual actors and actresses for family-friendliness, so we often consult one another when we hit a new issue).

"So, I'm rating this girl," she says, "who has a role where she's a girlfriend to some guy in the military--National Guard or something."

"Ok," so far I was tracking.

"So the girl tries to make him desert. How high would you rate that?" she asks.

I was confused. "She made him dessert? I wouldn't rate it at all."

"No, really!" She thought I was kidding. "Would you give it more than a 3? Her boyfriend was supposed to go to Iraq, so she kept trying to make him desert!"

"Ummmmmm," I tried to buy time, my mind racing to figure out why my sister thought baking cakes for soldiers going to Iraq was not family-friendly.

"To Mexico," my sister added helpfully.

"Oohh," it all came clear. "Well, not only is it morally wrong, but it's also illegal. I would probably give it a 4 like any perpetrator of a non-violent crime." Then I explained my confusion.

We had a good little laugh over that.

Loves!

Thursday, October 07, 2010

"By order summer lingers through September...

...in Camelot." Camelot performed by Richard Harris.

Hello, friends!

So here we are, in our new little town. It's sweet and friendly and quiet.

We (My husband, myself, and Irony) are staying at a quaint little motel ("little," is a key descriptor) which we will call "Dreamland" for the purposes of this blog. All the new troopers who needed temporary housing for this post are here, which ended up being Gem and her husband (who we will call "Sterling") and two other guys who graduated with my husband, (Sig and Sandyman), and are also working this post. Its been kind of like college all over again, having buddies next door and always something happening. :) We each have different pieces of kitchen equipment (I have a mini-fridge, a microwave, a hot pot, and a coffee-pot.) and ideally, we would switch back and forth so that we can all eat reasonably normal meals...but we usually end up missing each other at meal times and just using what we've got (which in my case isn't half-bad) or we are all so tired and sick of "in-room" food, we all go out to Betty's Ok Country Cookin'. So good--and the waitresses all know us already.

The motel certainly isn't ideal (tiny rooms, old furnishings, no 3-prong plugs, no non-smoking rooms, no wireless, and did I mention small?...) but we're doing good, and the biggest issues have been living with the cat in such a small space. She's getting pretty stir crazy. Other than the lack of wi-fi (which was a big disappointment to me) the other imperfections at the hotel have been easily overcome--via candles and febreeze and our own things to make it homey--and the ladies who maintain and clean are just precious. Except for the carpet and normal wear that comes with age, our room is up to even my standard of cleanliness...and ya'll know that's saying something! And as for wi-fi, only one block (walked or driven in a matter of minutes) is the Cafe on the Square, which boasts delicious handmade drinks and sandwiches, a spacious seating area, soothing atmosphere and...wireless! Also McDonald's has wireless, and I have actually been going there to sit in the little "cafe" area, which has comfy tall chairs and tables, FOX news on 24/7, and now they have the monopoly game, which entertains me greatly. Oh, and I work, with the wireless. Sometimes. Other times I just bask.

In other news, the house hunt is going well. We found a five-bedroom, two bathroom townhouse that is supposed to have ridiculously wonderful utilities. "Five bedrooms," you may ask, "is that really necessary?" Not really necessary, but delightful in all it's possibilities? Yes. Here is my ideal layout:

1 - Master bedroom, for which we already have lovely furnitures. The main question here is decorations, which I am looking forward to with great anticipation.

2 - Guest bedroom, for which we also already were given lovely furnitures (Decorations not at all in question here. I'm quite excited about how cute it's going to be--I have a quilt and everything!).

3 - Office/equipment room for Ryan--you have no idea how much stuff he's got for this new job. And it's all bulky and official and in some way unsafe for the cat to be around. And this can be a nice, quite man room, all void of touches of femininity and with nice manly fixtures and paraphernalia, which he already has, but has nowhere to put. I'm pretty excited about this, too.

4 - Office for me, since I actually could work from home. Again, decorations are a question, there are simply so many options!

5 - Media room, similar in to the movie room in our old house.

Also the kitchen, though rather small, has a nice counter-layout, and there's the aforementioned living room, as well as a balcony and back porch. <3>

Anyhow, we are officially moving in tomorrow!!!

Updates and pictures soon!

Friday, October 01, 2010

"You and me could write a bad romance...

...caught in a bad romance." Bad Romance by Lady GaGa.

Hey friends. Before we get started, be warned. I'm going to bring up human trafficking again.

This is an in-depth description and analysis of Lady GaGa's music video for Bad Romance. It is long. It is detailed. The beginning is my analysis, so that you can get the benefit of my opinion without having to wade through a lengthy detailed description of the video, including some racy stuff (especially for my sweet readers who are of a more sensitive disposition). But for those of you who want to see a break-down of what flashes by quickly on the video (there's a link to it in Part 2 if you simply want to see what I'm talking about) or would rather read a description than actually see the writing bodies, I'll include it. But my analysis is here in part one, because I think a social and (though it pains me to call this "art") artistic phenomena of this caliber deserves attention. Below is a brief synopsis and my analysis, then I will warn you before I go on to the description of the video.

The storyline of a the music video can be put in one sentence: GaGa is drugged and kidnapped by supermodels, and then sold as a sex slave to a member of the Russian mafia, whom she horrifically murders prior to her going to bed with him. In an unsurprisingly post-modern surrealist vogue (with a hint of Where the Wild Things Are), the story is depicted, featuring motifs of zombies, strippers, starvation, drug overdosage, torture, human trafficking, rape, and murder.

I realize that this sounds like an extreme reaction to an albeit extremely bizarre music video made by a bizarre artist for a bizarre song. After all, what kind of music video do I expect to go with lyrics such as, "I want your ugly/I want your disease/I want your everything/As long as it's free"? Indeed, a close look at the words to this catchy song would make any non-masochistic person cringe, if they have even a single wholesome bone in their body. Perhaps most people, like me, heard only, "I want your love...something something...you and I could write a bad romance...la la la...I want your love..." with well-timed rhythmic changes and a technicized, moody, upbeat melody. My obsessive compulsive need to know all the words to a song led me to looking up the lyrics...which promptly ruined the song for me. It glamorizes a "bad romance," and equalizes "love," with revenge and sex, and explicitly separates "love" from any closeness outside the physical by saying, "I want your love/I don't wanna be friends." What does that even mean?


It also should come as no surprise that a pop-culture music video would practically be soft porn, including strip-tease dancing, a lap dance, and a lot of near-naked, apparently pain-ridden, writhing bodies. Sadly, we're hardly surprised at this anymore, and possibly especially from someone as "edgy" as Lady GaGa.

For the clothes that ARE featured, this music video has taken the most grotesque and, frankly, ugly aspects of haute couture (which, truthfully, isn't really that hard, considering the current trends of the couture industry today) and utilizes them as I suppose they are intended, to sear our sense of beauty and style even further from the traditional, and make us that much more accustomed to tolerating, nay, celebrating the horrific. People have mixed feelings about the morbidity of wearing entire dead animals (such as a fur stole with the head still on--which GaGa does, a polar bear) but at least a form of beauty can still be found in the pelt of an animal. This video takes a mutated, deep-cave dead bat and wears it as a hair bow. How can we watch this and not be sickened?

Sexual promiscuity is clearly a "given" in our society today. Even to those of us who loathe that lifestyle, it comes as no surprise. It is also already acceptable (apparently even applaudable?) to portray prostitution, eroticism and stripping such as was formerly constrained to so-called "gentlemen's" clubs and the grimier sides of town. Porn is commonplace now, and fashion and pop culture have long glorified such things, and again, to be shocked at the broad acceptance of such things is now antiquated.

What this music video does (and again, I realize this is not by any means the first video to do this) is add to those "acceptable" vices the likes of human trafficking, rape, and torture. Fashion has long favored the inordinately thin body of a model, but this shows an absolutely emaciated and obviously unhealthy body, celebrating the pain and the death and agony surrounding it. The "prettiest" (by which I mean the nearest to traditionally acceptable beauty) scene in the whole video is when GaGa is dancing in black sheer lingerie with crystals and black beads strewn and flying through the air as the Russian Mob sit around her and apparently "bids" for her. It is clear through the video that she's a prisoner, and this is not a case of where she's selling her body because SHE chose to--which ought to be disgusting enough--but she's being sold in the most despicable trade known to man!

I could continue, but I will stop my analysis here. Below is the description of the video.
****************
WARNING: DESCRIPTION IS TRUE TO VIDEO, AND THEREFORE CONTAINS VERY ADULT THEMES.

Every scene takes place in the same large, white-tiled room, with booths and cages along one wall (apparently for cage dancers) and stark lighting. It’s usually smoky.
Queen & Cronies:
This scene is brief and creepy. The music is highly distorted in the tradition of the “mad genius” at the organ or a Halloween scary mansion. The camera focuses us on GaGa, surrounded by black clad thugs in various stages of undress with strange piercings, masks, and many tattoos in evidence and gogo-booted leggy dancers with white masks and surrealist white leotard-like costumes strewn about the floor with legs on display, some on the floor, some draped against walls, one or two in a bathtub. There is also a dog (reminiscent of the “Pokerface” video intro) and various touches of gold here and there—apparently beer cans, chunky necklaces on the women, and GaGa herself, dressed in a mini-skirt, long sleeved coat, seated on a white throne with bizarre glasses that become the close up of the shot, and we see they are made of razor blades.
No one moves as the camera moves in and we look at the strange “evil mastermind” –esque close up of GaGa with these glasses and her chain-metal type coat, and heavily powdered face. The room is slightly smoky and everything is stark except the touches of color—any skin, hair, etc. is powdered into a grayish version of itself, except the black and the gold.
If we look for any beauty in this sickeningly eerie scene, it is only in the details—pearls on one dancer’s neck, intricate designs on the throne, in the masks, and GaGa’s strange finger decorations—a sort of gold netting over each black-painted fingernail. The distorted music is interrupted as GaGa hits a button on her ipod player (mounted ipod, large black speakers and some sort of controller and next to the throne in the scene) and the music of “Bad Romance” begins.
Zombies:
Light slowly filters through slit-windows into a white-tiled room that looks like a mix between a morgue, a crematorium, a gas chamber, and a tanning room. We see coffin-like space-age structures lined up against a wall, one labeled with a red cross and “Monster.” We see a window as of a door that labels the room “Bath Haus of GaGa.”
The coffin/tanning beds open and out climb vinyl clad dancers and GaGa, entirely covered except chins and mouths, with cartoonish crown/spikes in place of hair (part of the vinyl suit). The light evidentially disturbed these zombies, as they begin a jerky, bothered dance as the music builds. The scenes begin to break up and be interrupted with shots of other scenes, and each successive shot shows the zombie dance to becoming more choreographed and regular, with unified clapping. Shots of a single zombie here and there show them creeping around and twitching like insects scuttling from the light. Very clearly visible backbones—grotesquely emphasized.
As the camera cuts from this scene to the OD scene, The zombies seem to writhe more and more in unified pain with the OD GaGa.
Overdose Prisoner:
GaGa is alone in a large, white-tiled room. The light is painful, and the only fixtures other than high slit windows in the walls are a starkly geometric bathtub and a strip-dancing cage and poles against the wall. Slightly pinkish hair very mussed and tangled and standing out like she just woke up, a distorted pair of stacked very high heels, and a white stripper sheer shirt and shorts with opaque crosses over her nipples, GaGa emerges from a bathtub, lifting her let to show the water streaming down, with ear-buds in and dancing in a similarly jerky fashion to the zombies, with washed out powdered skin and face and lips. The only darkness in this scene are her eyes. She has huge contact lenses in that make her irises seem to cover much more of her eyes than usual. (These lenses are illegal in the US, btw.)
Every consecutive cut to this scene shows GaGa staring at the camera with fingers twitching and not blinking except with an exaggerated jerk. It becomes clear that the jerky movement is not the same as the “zombies” but more reminiscent of an overdose of some kind. Eventually two women come in wearing nurse-like tunics, sleeveless, also sheer, and they pull GaGa struggling from the bathtub. GaGa is held sitting on the side of the tub, her shirt and dress sheer enough we can see even her tattoos visibly through it. They rip her shirt from her, and she covers herself (we don’t see anything) and they stand before her as she writhes for a moment, exposing herself to them (but not the camera).
They force GaGa’s head back and hold her mouth open, forcing her to drink some clear liquid out of a crystal goblet. From other camera shots of various bottles, we can assume it is vodka. They hold her head in such a way as she is forced to swallow. It is apparently painful to drink. When we cut back to this scene again, she’s back in the bathtub, still writhing.
Black Crown:
In the white room, but not starkly lit is GaGa looks almost normal, with slightly scrunched hair, down, large black sunglasses, and a tight black body suit, with a mini-skirt over top. The only skin showing is her hands and face under the sunglasses. She is looking into an ornate, white-framed mirror, and an tilted crown is on her head, also black, similar to the one the zombie costumes have. It is something like Alice in Wonderland or Where the Wild Things Are would have.
Naked Tears/Caged Dancer:
This storyline begins as the OD victim is apparently writing in pain after her shirt is ripped off. It shows a completely nude, hair simple and short with what looks like an oversized bow in it, and little or no makeup except a slightly smeared visage as would be if she had cried all her makeup off. Her eyes are bloodshot. The scene fluctuates between being a well lit close up, and heavily shadowed or backlit shot with her body literally looking like a naked caged emphasized backbone (looking emaciated). We see in a close up that what appeared earlier to be a bow on her head (her only decoration other than tattoos) is actually a dead, flesh-colored bat. She screams and weeps in brief close-up shots.
Human Trafficking:
A group of the white-leotard and pearl draped female dancers from before (remember the go-go boots?) are ripping a seemingly burlap cloth off a crystal-bead crowned GaGa, who is also wearing boots now. She is fighting them, and the cloth/coat is covered in bold black scribbled words, like “Kill,” “Fetish,” “Please” and other things we can’t read. They finally rip the coat off her, and we see by the lining that it’s actually a Burberry designer jacket, and GaGa is wearing nothing but a crystal-beaded tankini-type front and sheer and silver panties. She and the women begin a provocative dance in front of a group of men who appear to be Russian Mafia. At one point she is thrown to the front of the group and she crawls to a man with a metal jaw-cover and she performs a lap dance on him. Various shots of the man pouring a glass of vodka on ice as the women perform in front of the group. One of the men has a furless cat that we see close up growling as GaGa dances, now without her crown, with eyes unobscured for the first time, and her hair flowing loose. The man she did a lap dance on apparently bids, a price showing up on a row of computers, and he apparently “buys” GaGa.
Black Lingerie and Crystals:
GaGa is in the center of a circle of the men (still apparently Russian Mafia) wearing black lingerie and black and crystal bead necklaces. Her hair is loose and in soft curls, and she wears a metal mask that obscures the sides of her face but not her eyes or her features. Crystals are suspended in the air as she dances in the middle of the circle and the camera spirals around her. She is literally draped with strings of large, chunky crystals.
Black Lingerie and Silver Metal:
In the same black lingerie as above, but now with a silver metal structure that grips her body and then is a frame for five metal circles that encompass her body reaching from the top of her head behind her, circling to her knees in front of her, she stands unmoving in the center of the white room. She has on large sunglasses. The circles switch up positions in different shots, like an orbit model.
Fashion: Haute Couture:
In the same white room, but not as starkly lit, GaGa has a weird two-bun matted hairstyle, and wears one of the bizarre 2010 structured dresses that has high shoulders, shaped sleeves, and balloons from her waist but only comes to the top of her thighs. Her legs are covered in the same glittery gold and silver metallic as the dress, and her shoes are the same material, strangely molded and high, being high-heels but coming up to her calf in their shape. In this costume she lies strewn against a wall and struts across the floor, and as the camera zooms in we get more detail of the costume, seeing it looks almost snake-skin in design, and there are tints of green and copper in the creases and shadows.
Polar Bear and White Lingerie:
She struts across the white tile room toward an ornately white-framed bed set against one wall and lamps and side tables. The metal-jawed man, still in his black shirt and suit and with his glass of vodka waits for her. White antelope heads are mounted on the wall behind him. She pulls off her long draping dress that is apparently a whole polar bear skin (the head was dragging close to the camera as she walked across the floor) He begins to take his shirt off and swigs his vodka. GaGa is wearing white frame sunglasses and starkly burgundy lipstick.
She pulls her coat off, getting the full attention of the man, and we see a white sheer thong and bra set from the back and she pauses, spreading her hands to invite him to look at her. Standing back to the camera in the white thong and bra, with hands on her hips, she watches as the bed and area around it, including the man, suddenly catch on fire and burn. She carelessly looks away and has the coat draped over one shoulder as the fire behind her burns the bedroom scene. The coat and everything burns around GaGa.
Red-Clad Strippers:
GaGa and a group of dancers lay on the floor, all facing the camera, all with one arm extended in the same direction. They pound on the floor and begin to dance provocatively as the camera cuts back and forth between their writhing, sensual dance and GaGa approaching the man on the bed. Their costumes are variations on red stripper-style outfits, with lace, vinyl, and cutouts, all in the same bright red. Some of them are wearing black patent leather gloves or boots. Everyone but GaGa is wearing a mask. The dancers begin to mimic the white zombies from earlier and do the same jerky-clapping dance.
Burned:
Lying across the charred remains of the bed and bedroom, GaGa calmly smokes a cigarette as the music from the song ends and the creepy music from before begins again. She is now in black lacy lingerie, and speared with soot. Mounted on her bra is apparently a flame-thrower, and she looks bored, staring at the ceiling as she reclines next to the charred body of the man, only recognizable by themetal jaw. Her flame-thrower shoots out sparks as the camera fades to black.
****************
Where has any sense of right and wrong gone in America? What can possibly possess our culture that they find this, even this, beautiful?