Ok. So enough angry politics for a moment. I need to take a deep breath and enjoy some Pretty Girl Therapy.

This would be Jane Birkin, and it would be courtesy of a wonderfully eclectic 60’s color gallery at discosantigos.com (via BoingBoing, of course).

Here’s another favorite.

There. I feel a little better. And if that doesn’t do it, I’ll go for this or this or this or this or this or this or maybe this

Ever have a moment where you look at someone and they look familiar, and you think, if you were naked, I would know.

Or is that just me?

It’s been a few times lately.

My friend Andrea waits tables at a local, upscale restaurant, a wine and cocktails type bistro. She often comes over to my house after work with friends and co-workers, so I have several times wound up in the hot tub with naked, inebriated restaurant staff.

I was sitting at the bar one night, my bachelor week a couple weeks ago. I was sipping dirty martinis and people-watching; writing a story in my head that was being narrated by someone very like Marv in Sin City.

I was also watching waitresses. I love waitresses. And I kept thinking, I know that one girl but I could not dig up how.

It hit me. I think I’ve seen her naked. I could remember her full, luscious breasts.

If I could get her undressed, I thought, I could be sure.

Then there was another friend. I’ve seen her web cam photos, but when I met her in person, she was dressed. I didn’t recognize her at all. Thne later, in the hot tub, I realized, I’ve seen those tits before. And it hit me. I’d know you if you were naked.

The last time was, of course, another waitress. A mexican joint not far from me. I used to eat there weekly, but not so much in the last year, for no reason other than shifts in dining habits. They have a new waitress, and as usual, I took a liking to her on first site. She looks youngish, brunette. Short, with great thighs in a too-short skirt. Pierced nose, pony tail. She smiled at me in a way that made me want to growl.

And I kept thinking, I know this girl.

In fact I don’t, I finally realized what it was. She looks like a combination of a couple women. A stripper from some club I was at not long ago, and a girl I’ve seen on a porn web site. My brain fused them together and this cute little waitress was just similar enough that she pinged my sense of familiarity. And again, I had that thought. If you were naked, I’d know how I know you.

Maybe it’s just that I know bodies better than I know clothes. People I’ve seen naked a lot, I know in my mind’s eye every mole and scar and curve, every hair. Close friends, I could not tell you what they had on the last time I saw them, but I could tell you exactly what bruises they had the last time I saw them naked.

Wearing nothing is devine, naked is a state of mind
I take things off to clear my head to say the things I haven’t said
I live inside the elements the the earth and sky are my best friends
Water is the evidence that washes me from end to end

Ever have a moment where you look at someone and they look familiar, and you think, if you were naked, I would know.

Or is that just me?

It’s been a few times lately.

My friend Andrea waits tables at a local, upscale restaurant, a wine and cocktails type bistro. She often comes over to my house after work with friends and co-workers, so I have several times wound up in the hot tub with naked, inebriated restaurant staff.

I was sitting at the bar one night, my bachelor week a couple weeks ago. I was sipping dirty martinis and people-watching; writing a story in my head that was being narrated by someone very like Marv in Sin City.

I was also watching waitresses. I love waitresses. And I kept thinking, I know that one girl but I could not dig up how.

It hit me. I think I’ve seen her naked. I could remember her full, luscious breasts.

If I could get her undressed, I thought, I could be sure.

Then there was another friend. I’ve seen her web cam photos, but when I met her in person, she was dressed. I didn’t recognize her at all. Thne later, in the hot tub, I realized, I’ve seen those tits before. And it hit me. I’d know you if you were naked.

The last time was, of course, another waitress. A mexican joint not far from me. I used to eat there weekly, but not so much in the last year, for no reason other than shifts in dining habits. They have a new waitress, and as usual, I took a liking to her on first site. She looks youngish, brunette. Short, with great thighs in a too-short skirt. Pierced nose, pony tail. She smiled at me in a way that made me want to growl.

And I kept thinking, I know this girl.

In fact I don’t, I finally realized what it was. She looks like a combination of a couple women. A stripper from some club I was at not long ago, and a girl I’ve seen on a porn web site. My brain fused them together and this cute little waitress was just similar enough that she pinged my sense of familiarity. And again, I had that thought. If you were naked, I’d know how I know you.

Maybe it’s just that I know bodies better than I know clothes. People I’ve seen naked a lot, I know in my mind’s eye every mole and scar and curve, every hair. Close friends, I could not tell you what they had on the last time I saw them, but I could tell you exactly what bruises they had the last time I saw them naked.

Wearing nothing is devine, naked is a state of mind
I take things off to clear my head to say the things I haven’t said
I live inside the elements the the earth and sky are my best friends
Water is the evidence that washes me from end to end

An ode to the girl who cleans my fish tanks.

Read more “Tank Girl”