You ever wonder why it is that people say something is “spankin’ new?” I mean, it’s obviously not literal, since you can’t spank something to the point in which time is reversed and the object of the spanking suddenly becomes brand new. I suppose, however, if you are spanking a rump, you could theoretically spank it the point in which the epidermis peels off, after which you technically are spanking a “new” outer layer of flesh. Ew.
Speaking of spankin’ new, my friend TG posted some of her favorite movies on Facebook (aka Internet crack), one of which was “Something New,” starring the incredibly handsome (and Australian) Simon Baker. In defense of the movie’s irresistible qualities, TG mentioned a scene in which Baker kisses Sanaa Lathan in the rain outside, then proceeds to take her into her home and kisses her again despite Lathan’s request that Baker leave. In TG’s words, that really was “the hotness!”
But this got me thinking about how the hotness of a scene like this really is in the eyes of the beholder. Allow me to explain. Below is picture of Simon Baker.
Image from Livejournal
Now, for those who’ve seen the movie, Baker plays a landscape architect. Take a look at the picture below, which is what I typically imagine when I think of landscapers.
Image from Flickr
What is my point here? Well, the aforementioned scene of a man kissing a woman in the rain, and then continuing to kiss said woman in her home after she asks you to leave — depending on who the man is, it’s either “the hotness” or just plain sexual assault. And that can be said in a number of situations. In college, I remember my girlfriends and I would go this 18+ club, as none of us had fake IDs. The male clientele at this club was quite varied, from 18-year old frat boys (Sigma Pi, What a Guy!) to 40-year old nasties. In any event, there was an inverse relationship between a man’s hotness and whether that man’s actions were considered “flirting” or “sexual assault.” For the nasties, a simple leer from across the entire expanse of the dance floor could lead to us seeking assistance from club security. But if you were a hottie, go ahead and do whatever you want, honey.
This has me thinking — does the same inverse relationship exist for comedians? For someone like Tina Fey, whose career has supplied her with a wealth of goodwill, does she garner laughs simply by opening her mouth? And what about yours truly, being a self-described amateur comedian, am I the equivalent of the 40-year old nasty in the middle of a crowded college dance floor leering at girls who are younger than my 3 kids with 3 different baby mamas? I have to think that there must be some middle ground in which I reside. Perhaps I’m the comedic equivalent of the 30-year old, moderately attractive and professionally successful person, who did not realize that said club attracted 18-year old college kids? Alas, accurate assessment of my own comedic abilities may not itself be an ability I possess. But if Tina Fey loves my script, I’d probably run streaking across town screaming, “I’m funny! I’m really funny!”
Discover me, Tina Fey!