Coming out of my first yoga class, I was astonished that there were nothing but hot girls there. Just 55 girls, Bobby Shriver, who's a buddy of mine, and myself. I came out of class, I was so high. I been sober 26 years, but I'm an ex-druggie.
Just the desire to play a mom, wanting to play someone actually closer to who I am and where I am in my life. People are used to seeing me play the single, hot girl, which has been fun, but at the same time, this role is more akin to my natural proclivities.
I'm over being a pop star. I don't wanna be a hot girl. I wanna be iconic. And I feel like I've accomplished a lot. I feel like I'm highly respected, which is more important than any award or any amount of records. And I feel like there comes a point when being a pop star is not enough.
Adrian gave the picture a nod of approval before handing me the phone. "Okay, even I can admit that's pretty cute." I found myself overanalyzing the comment. What had he meant in saying 'even he' could admit it? That I was cute for a human? Or that I had just met some kind of Adrian hot-girl criteria?
Hey, a guy can hope. I mean, it’s not impossible that a car full of scantily clad sorority girls might break down outside and need my help.” “That’s true,” I said. “Maybe I can put a sign out front that says, ‘ATTENTION ALL GIRLS: FREE HELP HERE.’” “‘ATTENTION ALL HOT GIRLS,’” he corrected, straightening up. “Right,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. “That’s an important distinction.” He pointed at me with the pool stick. “Speaking of hot, I like that uniform.” This time, I did roll my eyes.
I made sure that instead of people making fun of me, like every comedian probably says, I made fun of myself first so they would get distracted and just laugh. I was pretty brutally picked on for a while growing up. It was always the really pretty girls, the hot girls and then there was me. So I had to do something to get any sort of attention.
I glean a few times a week, and it's all about the subject line. I look for the lyrical, "Billowy Red Scarf Girl" or the funny, "Hipster Chick Who Passed Gas," the unintentionally funny, "Looking for the Hot Girl in Pink Dress," ones that immediately suggest images, "Furry Arms Under a Yellow Umbrella," or the plain odd, "Seeking Girl Who Bit Me Twice..." I don't think I've ever abandoned one... the images usually arrive fully formed in my head as soon as I read the message, and I decide whether to draw it or not.
I think a lot of people, when they think about the house, they think of the print. But when people think about Emilio Pucci, I want them to think about this really, really hot girl, so my biggest job is to give her a face and an identity - and I do that by trying to associate that kind of print that people have in their minds with a kind of girl who is free-spirited, rebellious, a little bit rock 'n' roll, and who has a lot of energy, who is up.
Every weekend the drama department would have parties. The 20 hot girls on campus? All of them were in the drama dept. So we'd have somebody standing guard at the door to keep all the computer science guys out. We had to guard our women at all times.
I got picked on a lot. I was a complete geek in school. I had braces. I didn't have the hot girlfriend. I wasn't ever sought after. I was a stocky, awkward kid who got laughed off the tennis court when I tried that.
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