Greetings, Fellow Libido-philes!
My name is Christopher Easton and I am the President-for-Life of the Official Aida Libido Fan Club. I am thrilled to announce that finally – after many years of BEGGING on the parts of myself and her millions of worshipful fans – Aida Libido has at last given a modest nod of her naturally platinum-blonde noggin and approved the go-ahead for us – the Great Unwashed – to meet, greet, and wallow in all things “Libido.”
This is not to say that “La Libido” didn’t have certain issues about this project. When pressed about her uncharacteristic caution regarding the spotlight, “America’s Beloved” shyly admitted that she feared becoming just a smidge “over-exposed.” This heartbreakingly unfounded reservation brought such a massive inhalation of breathe from everyone in the room – i.e. myself, her extensive staff (maids, chefs, masseurs, manicurists), management (agents, publicists, astrologers), and entourage (a virtual who’s-who of A- list celebrities, athletes, international journalists, and politicians from BOTH sides of the aisle), that the sudden drop of air pressure nearly caused the room’s walls to implode. Paris Hilton wept openly, Larry King tore his shirt, and Pope Benedict fell prostrate to the floor.
It wasn’t until Britney Spears used her forehead to smash the priceless Louie XVI mirror over the credenza and threatened to slit her wrists with one of the tumbling shards, that Aida became aware of the upsetting repercussions of her statement.
Calming the mortified throng with an insistent wave of her jewel-encrusted hand, “America’s Darling” stated that she was “just a-joshin’.” Therein she sighed deeply and – delicately dampening her lips with her iconic shaken-not-stirred dirty martini -- stated that although Time Magazine had crowned her “Most Popular Celebrity EVER,” and although she was winner of 17 Grammies, an Academy Award (for her staggering performance in the Anna Nichole Smith docudrama, “My Life As A Hog”), and Nobel Peace Prize Laureate (for bringing lip gloss to the 3rd world), there probably WAS a tad bit more room for her in the public eye. This praiseworthy understatement caused one and all to break into thunderous applause and thankfully gave Oprah Winfrey a reason to remove the gun from her temple.
But I digress.
In honor of this landmark new opportunity for us – her adoring throngs – to worship her in a more personal way, Our Darling has agreed to answer a few questions regarding her magical life.
What follows is PART I of my ongoing series of interviews with “She-Who-Brings-Light-Unto-This-Dark-World”…. Aida Libido.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
This reporter is led into Aida Libido’s boudoir as the “Queen-of-All-Media” lounges upon a leopard skin couch (faux, I later discovered via a rather formal letter sent by her lawyer/publicist) and daintily sips upon her signature “Aida Cocktail” (a dirty Absolute martini with three olives and a single pubic hair donated by Josh Grobin).
The room seems to breathe with the refreshing oxygen given off by a forest of exotic bouquets of flowers sent from admirers far and wide.
Celebrity “A-listers” and assorted royalty – Hollywood and otherwise – fill the expansive room and there aren’t enough chairs for so much as a quarter of the crowd. It is so ass-to-elbow in the room that Nicole Kidman has to sit on the floor in a far corner with a philodendron in her lap.
Nancy Pelosi huddles on the floor next to Christina Aguilera.
Clive Aiken discreetly attempts to fondle Colin Farrell beside the wet bar.
Elvis Costello sits in a corner with Prince Charles balanced precariously upon his lap.
Jennifer Hudson, Jennifer Aniston, and Jennifer Lopez catfight in an attempt to be the next to enter the room.
Pandemonium would break out if it weren’t for the Zen-like peacefulness infusing this inner sanctum from the direction of our matron’s sofa.
Resting upon Aida Libido’s lap is a collection of her favorite Divaboys Greetings cards that she is famous for sending to family, friends, and fans far and wide. As everyone knows, she signs each correspondence by hand using an albino peacock quill pen. Even from this distance I can make out the spectacularly crisp handwriting that reads, “Dearest Liz, thank you so much for the 100-piece set of Buckingham Palace china. Unfortunately, my current design needs don’t allow me to...”
Aida is resplendent in a silver-sequined Bob Mackey mini dress that shows so much leg it would give Richard Simmons a ‘woody.’ About her shoulders is a pure white wrap of mink (again, faux, I came to learn from Aida’s lawyer), which coordinates perfectly with her whimsically retro platinum bouffant. The soft light of the room is reflected by my hostess’s silver dress, having the effect of casting a virtual halo of starlight about her ample bosom.
I am in awe!
Resting on either side of her are her beloved pets -- “Yogi” the Siamese cat and “Boo-Boo” the Wonder Dog. Neither appears to appreciate this intrusion by what they must deem one of God’s lesser creations. Boo-Boo’s cantankerous growl and nip at my knee support my hypothesis.
Next to the sofa stands Ms. Libidos’s stunningly handsome Guatemalan gardener, Raoul, who appears to have taken a break from trimming bushes outside in order to studiously fluff his employer’s pillows and massage her slender neck. It’s been suggested in the tabloid media that Raoul “trims” inside the house as well. But such disgusting intimations obviously have no validity within these famously sacred walls. In fact, “America’s Beloved” occasionally stroked her arborist’s hovering thigh, undoubtedly in a geopolitically savvy display of cross-cultural fraternalism. Whatever the case, both Aida and her employee seem to enjoy each others’ company immensely.
Aida looks up and her already glowing visage brightens with pleasure at noticing my approach. I blush like a love-struck schoolboy every time she honors me with such generous affection. What red-blooded man wouldn’t?!
Aida dramatically casts her quill aside, hands Raoul her stemware, and opens her arms wide in invitation for a hug. Almost TOO enthusiastically, I cast myself into her satiny embrace. How do I describe the experience? The warmth of her alabaster skin, the rapturous feel of her fur forming a cocoon about my shoulders, the intoxicating scent of Opium by Yves St. Laurent, the rarified aroma of expensive vodka and Double Mint gum on her breath… it all makes my head spin!
Ah, to be in such a presence!
AIDA: My Dear, it’s been ages! You’re a mean old thing for not coming around more often.
Christopher Easton: Uh… the guards at the gate make it kind of hard to --
A: Oh, don’t just stand there! Sit down next to me.
I do so gladly, but not before receiving a jealous little nip on the backside from Boo-Boo.
A: Now, Boo, you stop that this instant! Mr. Easton isn’t going to attack me, are you, Christopher?
CE: Not unless I’m invited.
With this, the lovely creature bursts into delighted laughter.
A: Oh, you are SUCH a flirt!
She retrieves her cocktail from gardener.
A: Isn’t he a flirt, Raoul?
I don’t understand Spanish, so I can only assume that the “Puto” Raoul muttered under his breath means, “Yes, I agree.”
CE: Aida, thank you SO MUCH for giving me this opportunity.
A: Oh, don’t get so formal! You know that after all these years, I feel you’ve become my best friend, nee’ in fact, an almost literal part of me.
I gasp dramatically, hand to throat.
CE: Oh, my God! I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME WAY!!! It’s like we’re one and the same person! We think alike, some folks say we LOOK alike, we’re both GIVERS to a fault. Women want to BE us and men want to be INSIDE us! We --
A: Is there a point to this, dear?
CE: Oh, gosh, I was gushing, wasn’t I?
A: Darling, we must get started. I’m having cocktails with P. Diddy at 8:00.
CE: Just a few questions then. Members of the Aida Libido Fan Club and Blog Site are clamoring to know the latest.
A: Shoot.
CE: Is there anything to the rumor that you refused to become the fourth judge on American Idol because of the overwhelming likelihood that audience write-in votes would always deem you winner even though you never went on stage.
A: Not true. I refused American Idol because Simon Cowell is a putz and Ryan Seacrest is… well... Ryan Seacrest.
CE: So what will you be doing?
A: Oh, it’s quite original. I’m doing a Maury Povich-style Christmas special in which the Virgin Mary asks, “Who My Baby Daddy?” The guests will include St. Joseph, God the Father, and some oversexed trailer park redneck from Arkansas.
CE: The ex-presid -- ?
A: Yes.
CE: Bit of a coup to get Bill Clinton on the list.
She gives me a saucy wink.
A: Not if you like a good cigar, Kiddo.
Suddenly I notice an oddly familiar-looking personage leaning up against a potted dwarf palm tree in the far corner. The lady appears a bit more than just ‘green around the gills.’
CE: Is...uh... is that Princess Diana propped up against that plant?
A: Why, yes, it is! I’ve missed the unfortunate dear so much since the funeral that I asked William and Harry to ship her over. And her patina goes rather well with the carpet, don’t you think? Of course my room deodorizer bill has gone through the roof, but having her near me is worth the trouble.
CE: Is it true that you’re the new Save-The-Children spokesperson?
A: Yes, it is! I just ADORE children. In fact this very dress I’m wearing was MADE by some!
CE: It’s lovely.
A: It is, isn’t it? Anyway, the decision to get involved wasn’t an easy one. I’ve had to take some strong stands on childrens’ issues lately.
CE: Such as…
A: Well, all this ugliness lately about pedophilia and child molestation by priests and Republicans –
CE: And Michael Jackson.
A: Exactly! I cannot watch this go on any longer without addressing the issue.
CE: What are your plans?
A: Well, next week I’ll be addressing Congress about looking into the situation.
CE: Really?
A: Yes. I think it’s a scandal that our spiritual and political leaders – not to mention our pop stars -- are being seduced by all these slutty little eight-year-old boys running around out there flaunting themselves.
CE: You seem quite impassioned.
A: I am LIVID!
Aida delicately downs the last of her drink and hands it to Raoul for refilling. While he does so, she selects another lovely Divaboys Greetings card and addresses it to Mario Lopez.
A: It’s just not fair to the rest of us. Do you have any idea how much work it is for a woman over twenty-nine in our society to stay forever attractive? Think of it -- the time, the expense, the PAIN! Have you ever endured a hot wax?
Raoul presents Ms. Libido with a fresh glass, careful not to spill a drop upon the high-quality, environmentally-friendly stationary.
A: And here are all of these trashy little fourth graders running around with their wide eyes and clear skin. Every single one of them looks like they’ve had a perfect Brazilian wax. I mean, how CAN a post-pubescent girl compete?
CE: I’ve never really thought of it that way… Speaking of hair, is that a real mink you’re wearing?
Here Aida spits a mouthful of vodka across the room, presumably due to a large olive going down the wrong way. And for some reason the room suddenly grows quiet as Pamela Anderson – who until that moment had been busy picking lint out of her toenails behind a flowering guava – looks up at her mentor with a shocked start.
A: Fur? Oh, uh… “natural” fur, you mean?! Absolutely NOT! Why all of God’s creatures are our brothers and sisters. Our Heavenly Father put us here to CARE for our poor flea-bitten brethren, NOT exploit them.
Aida appears to be overheating a bit and hastily removes the amazingly natural-looking fur from around her bosom. She then hands it to her demigod gardener and leans meaningfully towards him.
A: Ixney with the ink-may, chop-chop!
The Diva appears to remember that I am studiously taking notes.
A: Uh… You’ll note that I’m one of the few people who speak Raoul’s native “Guatemalan.”
CE: I didn’t know Guatemalan was a lang –
A: What were we discussing?
Pamela Anderson: Flea-bitten brethren.
Aida pauses a moment before turning towards her mentee.
A: Pam, dear, why don’t you go in the kitchen and whip us up some of that delicious “Tofutti” you’re so fond of? When you get back, I’ll give you another tip on how to attract the boys.
The ex-Mrs. Lee leaves the room, her lower lip visibly quivering.
CE: She looks a bit bewildered.
A: I just love Pam. She’s a lovely girl and does mean well. But, God, can she bum out a barbecue!
CE: Not everyone can be as sophisticated as you.
Aida refreshes herself with another sip of her cocktail and seems to consider. She then leans towards me.
A: Honestly, I WOULD be a vegetarian if cows weren’t so tasty.
I notice that the Dali Lama, who is sitting cross-legged beside the wet bar, is taking copious notes… apparently seeking quotes for his latest book of inspirational quotes.
CE: Beautifully stated.
Aida seems pleased.
CE: Obviously the man/boy love thing really gets your goat. What else are you passionate about?
A: I’m so glad you asked. Have you seen these ridiculous and outrageous so-called info-mercials playing at night offering enlargement of the “male member” with nothing more than a pill or a canned drink?
CE: We all have.
A: Well, I think it’s disgusting. Those people are robbers, I tell you!
CE: You think so?
A: I think that the problem with sexuality today is that sex has gone from being a lovely one-on-one sport to a high-stakes game of who-can-outdo-who! Which lady has the biggest boobies, which man can tear his partner in half? People have forgotten that the best sex takes place ABOVE the waist! What liberated woman out there hasn’t been with a “super-sized happy meal” that couldn’t pump its way out of a wet paper bag?
CE: It’s not a problem I’ve ever had to deal with. You see, I’m considered rather –
A: Don’t brag, dear. Some of my most fulfilling sexual adventures have been because of the quality of the ride, not the size of the car.
CE: You do, of course, know from talent.
Aida takes a sip of her beverage while looking her gardener up and down... undoubtedly to inspect the crispness of his uniform. She appears pleased by what she finds and gives her horticulturist a pointed look.
A: No argument there.
CE: I JUST saw your latest YouTube.com music video. Fantastic, of course! But was that cocaine you and your backup singers -- The Cokettes -- were snorting out of those bottles?
A: I deny it emphatically! Those were antihistamines. We have terrible allergies.
CE: I’ll write that down for the record... Is it true that Barack Obama himself is calling for “Libido in 2012?”
A: That man has been calling for “Libido” since we met at Michael Ayers’ Christmas party back in… Oh, you mean on the ‘ticket!’ Yes, it’s true, but politics are so vulgar, don’t you think?
CE: Definitely. But I understand you’re really upset about the passing of California’s Prop 8.
A: Like I’ve been saying for months, “H8 Ain’t Pretty.” I’m all FOR gay marriage. Of course, I’m all FOR any man who’s willing to commit.
CE: Boy, I hear that.
A: Hopefully the courts will overturn.
CE: I hope you don’t mind me playing Devil’s advocate… but what about those who say the people have spoken, that it was a majority vote? That it’s not the courts’ job to override the will of the people.
Aida sighs deeply and seems to connect with some inner spiritual wisdom. I almost feel the spirit of the Buddha enveloping the room as she sucks the pimento out of an olive.
A: There are valid constitutional questions about the legitimacy of that bill…
I notice that Iran’s president ACKMADINAJAD – squatting on his haunches beside the bathroom door -- is scrawling copious notes on a dried goat skin.
A: …And more importantly, don’t forget it was the Supreme Court that made it legal for blacks and whites to marry back in the 1960’s. At the time, 70% of the voting age population was against interracial marriage. Is there an American today not living in an Alabama trailer park who would say this was a mistake on the part of the Court… that equal protection of marriage rights aren’t constitutional rights?
Suddenly Ben Affleck breaks into spontaneous applause. Alec Baldwin and Terry Hatcher weep openly.
CE: Brilliantly stated!
A: And isn’t it time to question the tax exempt status of the Church of Latter Day Saints who were the primary funders of that bill? I won’t even mention the other wack-job religious institutions that backed that bill. They benefitted a LOT from freedom of religion. When are they going to embrace the “mind-your-own-fucking-business” amendment?
John Stewart and Lewis Black step out from behind a massive bouquet of crimson roses sent my Cardinal Desmond Tutu and jump up and down like deranged cheerleaders. It takes all of my personal strength to stay seated and remain in the moment.
CE: No wonder Al Gore worships you!
A: And remember, fifty percent of all LEGAL marriages in this country end in divorce. It’s my admittedly humble opinion that gay marriage can’t but improve the odds.
At this point a deranged Anne Coulter breaks into the room swinging a flaming cross over her head and rushes towards Aida with the obvious intent of creating a secular martyr. Fortunately Rosie O’Donnell tackles the knock-kneed transvestite to the ground and beats the rightwing harpy to a bloody pulp just before Charlton Heston – in a senile but good-hearted attempt to do the right thing -- causes a scandal by blowing the anorexic nutcase’s head off with a .44 Magnum.
Aida shakes her head in disapproval as Justin Timberlake drags the limp commentator from the room.
A: Goodness, that ‘girl’ really does have the most pronounced Adam’s apple!
CE: Let’s move on to juicier tidbits. Are the rumors true that Angelina Jolie is suing you for the break-up of her marriage to Brad Pitt?
A: Those are typical tabloid fabrications. I would NEVER attempt to break up a happy marri …
Ms. Libido seems to become aware of a certain confused vibe emanating from everyone in the room.
A: Alright, that’s stretching it a bit. But Madonna and Guy haven’t been happy in years.
CE: You’re seeing GUY RICHIE???!!!
A: No, Dear. Madonna.
I nearly choke on my breath mint.
CE: WHAT????!!!!!!
A: But I’ve spoken out of turn. You know I’m not one to kiss and tell. (sipping her cocktail) Oh, Did I tell you about the time in Monaco when George Clooney stuck his finger in my --
CE: You and Madonna are --
A: My friend, she didn’t JUST learn singing and dancing from me…
CE: But… but…!
Aida notices that her beverage is once again empty. She presents her empty glass to her gardener.
A: Strange, I’m feeling parched. Raoul, pour Mama another martini. Just a tiny triple this time.
She turns back to me.
A: Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit... Ms. Ciccone and I diddled a few times. But I had to end it. She kept referring to what we were doing as “clam smashing.” It just didn’t seem ladylike.
CE: Nobody ever accused Madonna of being a lady.
A: Yes, but that IS rather her appeal, isn’t it?
Aida miraculously balances her stemware upon her perfect knee as she addresses a new Divaboys Greetings card to Jay Leno.
CE: You’re doing The Tonight Show?
A: Oh, gracious, no! Jay is SO last Tuesday. I’m just finally getting around to sending the autograph he’s been hounding me for.
CE: Is it true that Barack Obama himself is calling for “Libido in 2012?”
A: What can I say? The man’s a fan.
CE: I understand that Meryl Streep was recently quoted as saying –
Amazing as it sounds, I can swear I see blue flames shooting from Aida’s ears.
A: Oh, FUCK Meryl Streep!!!
Boo-Boo the Wonder Dog begins to snarl and snap in a fury.
CE: Excuse me?
A: She’s evil and we hate her!
I’m bewildered when I see that the gathered crowd all nod in agreement.
A: That rabid little hag thinks she’s hot shit just because she’s taken a few “acting classes!”
CROWD: Booooo!!!
Boo-Boo snaps and foams at the mouth.
CE: Well, not to be devil’s advocate, but Ms. Streep HAS done some rather memorable –
A: That backstabbing cougar robbed me of roles I was BORN to play. “A dingo ate my baby,” my ASS! And “I was the French Lieutenant’s WHOOOOORE!!!” You BET, she was! And half the French Foreign Legion as well!
Aida empties a bottle of large oval pills into her palm and washes them down with a gulp of vodka.
CE: So, there’s truth to the rumor that there’s bad blood between you and Mer –
A: She’s had it in for me ever since I beat her out for “Miss Okeefanokee Swamp” back in ’72.
Indelicate as it is, I can’t help but do a little middle school math in my head.
CE: 1972? But according to your biography you’re only 34 years old. If you beat Meryl Streep back in ‘72, you’d have to be at least --
Aida must be parched because she suddenly gulps her refreshment down in one fell toss. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she is giving me a murderous look. I, of course, decide it must just be ‘gas.’
CE: What projects are coming up for you next?
A: There’s the David La Chapelle spread for Vogue, Playboy in December I think, the MacArthur Prize dinner sometime right after the New Year. Oh, I shouldn’t forget my restaging of The Sisters Rosensweig with Margaret Cho and Kathy Griffin. And, of course, the Staggering Libido Sisters are FINALLY going on the road with our world tour – I’ll do anything to make sure my sisters can pay the rent... poor things. Best of all, I’ve become the spokes model for Divaboys Greetings! My reps have been working that angle for months.
CE: Wonderful! You’re famous for your love of their products.
A: They are adorable. Hilarious and of the highest quality. Unfortunately my people are suing them.
CE: What????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A: Oh, it’s nothing! Just a matter of money. Not that I don’t approve of people getting rich off of my name, you know. But I draw the line at full frontal.
CE: Those bastards didn’t?!
A: Dear, it’ll all work out in the courts. There will be no hard feelings. In the mean time, take a gander at www.divaboysgreetings.com and you’ll see moi everywhere... except between the legs. I’m saving those for Hugh Hefner.
CE: You’re going to do Playboy?!
A: My lips – no joke intended -- are sealed. But make sure you’ve got a subscription for December, 2009.
Despite my fundamental immunity to celebrity ‘news’, this offhanded pronouncement nearly knocks me off the sofa. But before I fully recover and can press Aida for more, she looks at her emerald-studded Tiffany watch and pointedly notices that time is running short.
A: But, yes, I AM the new face of Divaboys Greetings. Their cards are the ONLY way to say hello to the ones you love these days. I mean, email is just so… “Ick.”
CE: Aren’t you worried that “snailmail” is considered a bit retro these day?
The brow of “She-Who-Is-American-Culture” wrinkles with heartfelt concern.
A: Our culture has become so impersonal these days… It’s time for a general reconnect.
I notice that the chins of every celebrity in the room are bobbing up and down in agreement. Bill O’Reilly appears on the verge of breaking into tears.
A: I think it’s time for all educated and right-thinking Americans to do their part for our struggling economy and spend a few measly bucks on loads of high quality, environmentally-friendly, and frankly HILARIOUS stationary products if for no other reason than that family and friends feel like you give a hairy rat’s patoot.
It seems that there is not a dry eye in the room.
A: Every time someone buys a Divaboys Greetings card, Osama bin Laden tears out a clump of his own hair. Each purchase helps to defeat terrorism!
Laura Bush suddenly throws herself onto the ground and begins rolling about in ecstasy.
CE: You are the queen of ‘feel good,’ Aida.
A: Funny, I don’t think Raoul here would disagree.
America’s Darling holds out her drink to her adoring manservant.
A: Don’t be stingy this time, Sweets.
The lusty sound of glugging spirits fills the room.
CE: Aida, thank you so much for sharing your time with us.
A: I live only to give. See you on the red carpet!
………………………………………………
AIDA’S TOP HOLLYWOOD RESTAURANT:
Café d’Etoile (understated neighborhood foodery with a lovely crowd, wonderful comfort food, higher-end international, gorgeous wait staff, outdoor patio, and a horny maitre d’hôtel.)
Try the:
Duck Salad
Onion Soup (unless you’re on a first date)
Scallops and Prawns
Dirty Martini’s
………………………………
AIDA’S BEST RECENT DATE:
Jake Gyllenhal: For those who were frustrated by his cocktease unwillingness to show the goods in “Brokeback Mountain”…………… MMMMmmmmmm!
……………………………………
AIDA’s FAVORITE DESIGNER:
Bob Mackey.
......................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE COSMETICS:
Anything that comes with a spackle knife.
……………………………………
AIDA’S FAVORITE PLACE TO PERFORM:
Believe it or not, Hollywood is only #2 on Aida’s list of favorite places to work a stadium. Note that William Morris should stop hogging all the seats in the first ten rows. Talk about a bunch of cynical tight-asses! She prefers playing to the upper decks.
Her favorite venues are in:
TOKYO (the lovely and tasteful Japanese set aside their usual formality and reserved social selves and go stark raving bonkers when La Libido steps upon a stage. Their excitement only builds as the night goes on AND they really know how to throw an after-party!
....................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE LATE NIGHT SNACK:
Fugu ovaries.
.......................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE DESSERT:
George Clooney.
...................................
......................................
....................................
Vanity Fair’s Proust Questionnaire
As answered by
Aida Libido
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
The “perfect” martini.
What is your greatest fear?
9 to 5.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Modesty to a fault.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Sensible shoes.
Which living person do you most admire?
Vera Wang.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Sequins.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Virginity.
On what occasion do you lie?
When I’m too tired to stand.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
Let’s just say Japan isn’t the only place this girl is big.
Which living person do you most despise?
Meryl Streep.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Make it a double.”
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Jimmy Choo.
When and where were you happiest?
Waking up under the Dallas Cowboys.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Always giving ‘til it hurts.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Climbing Everest in stilettos.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Queen of the Fucking Universe.
Where would you like to live?
The Vatican.
What is your most treasured possession?
My youth and beauty.
What is your favorite occupation?
Afghanistan.
What is your most marked characteristic?
Staggering amounts of raw talent.
What do you most value in your friends?
Supplication.
Who are your favorite writers?
Joan and Jackie Collins.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Mary Magdelene.
What is it that you most dislike?
Fundamentalism. As in “Sean Hannity is fundamentally an asshole.”
What is your greatest regret?
That there isn’t more of me to give, give, give.
How would you like to die?
Botox poisoning.
What is your motto?
“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing.”
Monday, December 15, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
!!! THE OFFICIAL AIDA LIBIDO FAN CLUB BLOG !!!
12/13/2008
Greetings, Fellow Libido-philes!
My name is Christopher Easton and I am the President-for-Life of the Official Aida Libido Fan Club. I am thrilled to announce that finally – after many years of BEGGING on the parts of myself and her millions of worshipful fans – Aida Libido has at last given a modest nod of her naturally platinum-blonde noggin and approved the go-ahead for us – the Great Unwashed – to meet, greet, and wallow in all things “Libido.”
This is not to say that “La Libido” didn’t have certain issues about this project. When pressed about her uncharacteristic caution regarding the spotlight, “America’s Beloved” shyly admitted that she feared becoming just a smidge “over-exposed.” This heartbreakingly unfounded reservation brought such a massive inhalation of breathe from everyone in the room – i.e. myself, her extensive staff (maids, chefs, masseurs, manicurists), management (agents, publicists, astrologers), and entourage (a virtual who’s-who of A- list celebrities, athletes, international journalists, and politicians from BOTH sides of the aisle), that the sudden drop of air pressure nearly caused the room’s walls to implode. Paris Hilton wept openly, Larry King tore his shirt, and Pope Benedict fell prostrate to the floor.
It wasn’t until Britney Spears used her forehead to smash the priceless Louie XVI mirror over the credenza and threatened to slit her wrists with one of the tumbling shards, that Aida became aware of the upsetting repercussions of her statement.
Calming the mortified throng with an insistent wave of her jewel-encrusted hand, “America’s Darling” stated that she was “just a-joshin’.” Therein she sighed deeply and – delicately dampening her lips with her iconic shaken-not-stirred dirty martini -- stated that although Time Magazine had crowned her “Most Popular Celebrity EVER,” and although she was winner of 17 Grammies, an Academy Award (for her staggering performance in the Anna Nichole Smith docudrama, “My Life As A Hog”), and Nobel Peace Prize Laureate (for bringing lip gloss to the 3rd world), there probably WAS a tad bit more room for her in the public eye. This praiseworthy understatement caused one and all to break into thunderous applause and thankfully gave Oprah Winfrey a reason to remove the gun from her temple.
But I digress.
In honor of this landmark new opportunity for us – her adoring throngs – to worship her in a more personal way, Our Darling has agreed to answer a few questions regarding her magical life.
What follows is PART I of my ongoing series of interviews with “She-Who-Brings-Light-Unto-This-Dark-World”…. Aida Libido.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
This reporter is led into Aida Libido’s boudoir as the “Queen-of-All-Media” lounges upon a leopard skin couch (faux, I later discovered via a rather formal letter sent by her lawyer/publicist) and daintily sips upon her signature “Aida Cocktail” (a dirty Absolute martini with three olives and a single pubic hair donated by Josh Grobin).
The room seems to breathe with the refreshing oxygen given off by a forest of exotic bouquets of flowers sent from admirers far and wide.
Celebrity “A-listers” and assorted royalty – Hollywood and otherwise – fill the expansive room and there aren’t enough chairs for so much as a quarter of the crowd. It is so ass-to-elbow in the room that Nicole Kidman has to sit on the floor in a far corner with a philodendron in her lap.
Nancy Pelosi huddles on the floor next to Christina Aguilera.
Clive Aiken discreetly attempts to fondle Colin Farrell beside the wet bar.
Elvis Costello sits in a corner with Prince Charles balanced precariously upon his lap.
Jennifer Hudson, Jennifer Aniston, and Jennifer Lopez catfight in an attempt to be the next to enter the room.
Pandemonium would break out if it weren’t for the Zen-like peacefulness infusing this inner sanctum from the direction of our matron’s sofa.
Resting upon Aida Libido’s lap is a collection of her favorite Divaboys Greetings cards that she is famous for sending to family, friends, and fans far and wide. As everyone knows, she signs each correspondence by hand using an albino peacock quill pen. Even from this distance I can make out the spectacularly crisp handwriting that reads, “Dearest Liz, thank you so much for the 100-piece set of Buckingham Palace china. Unfortunately, my current design needs don’t allow me to...”
Aida is resplendent in a silver-sequined Bob Mackey mini dress that shows so much leg it would give Richard Simmons a ‘woody.’ About her shoulders is a pure white wrap of mink (again, faux, I came to learn from Aida’s lawyer), which coordinates perfectly with her whimsically retro platinum bouffant. The soft light of the room is reflected by my hostess’s silver dress, having the effect of casting a virtual halo of starlight about her ample bosom.
I am in awe!
Resting on either side of her are her beloved pets -- “Yogi” the Siamese cat and “Boo-Boo” the Wonder Dog. Neither appears to appreciate this intrusion by what they must deem one of God’s lesser creations. Boo-Boo’s cantankerous growl and nip at my knee support my hypothesis.
Next to the sofa stands Ms. Libidos’s stunningly handsome Guatemalan gardener, Raoul, who appears to have taken a break from trimming bushes outside in order to studiously fluff his employer’s pillows and massage her slender neck. It’s been suggested in the tabloid media that Raoul “trims” inside the house as well. But such disgusting intimations obviously have no validity within these famously sacred walls. In fact, “America’s Beloved” occasionally stroked her arborist’s hovering thigh, undoubtedly in a geopolitically savvy display of cross-cultural fraternalism. Whatever the case, both Aida and her employee seem to enjoy each others’ company immensely.
Aida looks up and her already glowing visage brightens with pleasure at noticing my approach. I blush like a love-struck schoolboy every time she honors me with such generous affection. What red-blooded man wouldn’t?!
Aida dramatically casts her quill aside, hands Raoul her stemware, and opens her arms wide in invitation for a hug. Almost TOO enthusiastically, I cast myself into her satiny embrace. How do I describe the experience? The warmth of her alabaster skin, the rapturous feel of her fur forming a cocoon about my shoulders, the intoxicating scent of Opium by Yves St. Laurent, the rarified aroma of expensive vodka and Double Mint gum on her breath… it all makes my head spin!
Ah, to be in such a presence!
AIDA: My Dear, it’s been ages! You’re a mean old thing for not coming around more often.d
Christopher Easton: Uh… the guards at the gate make it kind of hard to --
A: Oh, don’t just stand there! Sit down next to me.
I do so gladly, but not before receiving a jealous little nip on the backside from Boo-Boo.
A: Now, Boo, you stop that this instant! Mr. Easton isn’t going to attack me, are you, Christopher?
CE: Not unless I’m invited.
With this, the lovely creature bursts into delighted laughter.
A: Oh, you are SUCH a flirt!
She retrieves her cocktail from gardener.
A: Isn’t he a flirt, Raoul?
I don’t understand Spanish, so I can only assume that the “Puto” Raoul muttered under his breath means, “Yes, I agree.”
CE: Aida, thank you SO MUCH for giving me this opportunity.
A: Oh, don’t get so formal! You know that after all these years, I feel you’ve become my best friend, nee’ in fact, an almost literal part of me.
I gasp dramatically, hand to throat.
CE: Oh, my God! I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME WAY!!! It’s like we’re one and the same person! We think alike, some folks say we LOOK alike, we’re both GIVERS to a fault. Women want to BE us and men want to be INSIDE us! We --
A: Is there a point to this, dear?
CE: Oh, gosh, I was gushing, wasn’t I?
A: Darling, we must get started. I’m having cocktails with P. Diddy at 8:00.
CE: Just a few questions then. Members of the Aida Libido Fan Club and Blog Site are clamoring to know the latest.
A: Shoot.
CE: Is there anything to the rumor that you refused to become the fourth judge on American Idol because of the overwhelming likelihood that audience write-in votes would always deem you winner even though you never went on stage.
A: Not true. I refused American Idol because Simon Cowell is a putz and Ryan Seacrest is… well... Ryan Seacrest.
CE: So what will you be doing?
A: Oh, it’s quite original. I’m doing a Maury Povich-style Christmas special in which the Virgin Mary asks, “Who My Baby Daddy?” The guests will include St. Joseph, God the Father, and some oversexed trailer park redneck from Arkansas.
CE: The ex-presid -- ?
A: Yes.
CE: Bit of a coup to get Bill Clinton on the list.
She gives me a saucy wink.
A: Not if you like a good cigar, Kiddo.
Suddenly I notice an oddly familiar-looking personage leaning up against a potted dwarf palm tree in the far corner. The lady appears a bit more than just ‘green around the gills.’
CE: Is...uh... is that Princess Diana propped up against that plant?
A: Why, yes, it is! I’ve missed the unfortunate dear so much since the funeral that I asked William and Harry to ship her over. And her patina goes rather well with the carpet, don’t you think? Of course my room deodorizer bill has gone through the roof, but having her near me is worth the trouble.
CE: Is it true that you’re the new Save-The-Children spokesperson?
A: Yes, it is! I just ADORE children. In fact this very dress I’m wearing was MADE by some!
CE: It’s lovely.
A: It is, isn’t it? Anyway, the decision to get involved wasn’t an easy one. I’ve had to take some strong stands on childrens’ issues lately.
CE: Such as…
A: Well, all this ugliness lately about pedophilia and child molestation by priests and Republicans –
CE: And Michael Jackson.
A: Exactly! I cannot watch this go on any longer without addressing the issue.
CE: What are your plans?
A: Well, next week I’ll be addressing Congress about looking into the situation.
CE: Really?
A: Yes. I think it’s a scandal that our spiritual and political leaders – not to mention our pop stars -- are being seduced by all these slutty little eight-year-old boys running around out there flaunting themselves.
CE: You seem quite impassioned.
A: I am LIVID!
Aida delicately downs the last of her drink and hands it to Raoul for refilling. While he does so, she selects another lovely Divaboys Greetings card and addresses it to Mario Lopez.
A: It’s just not fair to the rest of us. Do you have any idea how much work it is for a woman over twenty-nine in our society to stay forever attractive? Think of it -- the time, the expense, the PAIN! Have you ever endured a hot wax?
Raoul presents Ms. Libido with a fresh glass, careful not to spill a drop upon the high-quality, environmentally-friendly stationary.
A: And here are all of these trashy little fourth graders running around with their wide eyes and clear skin. Every single one of them looks like they’ve had a perfect Brazilian wax. I mean, how CAN a post-pubescent girl compete?
CE: I’ve never really thought of it that way… Speaking of hair, is that a real mink you’re wearing?
Here Aida spits a mouthful of vodka across the room, presumably due to a large olive going down the wrong way. And for some reason the room suddenly grows quiet as Pamela Anderson – who until that moment had been busy picking lint out of her toenails behind a flowering guava – looks up at her mentor with a shocked start.
A: Fur? Oh, uh… “natural” fur, you mean?! Absolutely NOT! Why all of God’s creatures are our brothers and sisters. Our Heavenly Father put us here to CARE for our poor flea-bitten brethren, NOT exploit them.
Aida appears to be overheating a bit and hastily removes the amazingly natural-looking fur from around her bosom. She then hands it to her demigod gardener and leans meaningfully towards him.
A: Ixney with the ink-may, chop-chop!
The Diva appears to remember that I am studiously taking notes.
A: Uh… You’ll note that I’m one of the few people who speak Raoul’s native “Guatemalan.”
CE: I didn’t know Guatemalan was a lang –
A: What were we discussing?
Pamela Anderson: Flea-bitten brethren.
Aida pauses a moment before turning towards her mentee.
A: Pam, dear, why don’t you go in the kitchen and whip us up some of that delicious “Tofutti” you’re so fond of? When you get back, I’ll give you another tip on how to attract the boys.
The ex-Mrs. Lee leaves the room, her lower lip visibly quivering.
CE: She looks a bit bewildered.
A: I just love Pam. She’s a lovely girl and does mean well. But, God, can she bum out a barbecue!
CE: Not everyone can be as sophisticated as you.
Aida refreshes herself with another sip of her cocktail and seems to consider. She then leans towards me.
A: Honestly, I WOULD be a vegetarian if cows weren’t so tasty.
I notice that the Dali Lama, who is sitting cross-legged beside the wet bar, is taking copious notes… apparently seeking quotes for his latest book of inspirational quotes.
CE: Beautifully stated.
Aida seems pleased.
CE: Obviously the man/boy love thing really gets your goat. What else are you passionate about?
A: I’m so glad you asked. Have you seen these ridiculous and outrageous so-called info-mercials playing at night offering enlargement of the “male member” with nothing more than a pill or a canned drink?
CE: We all have.
A: Well, I think it’s disgusting. Those people are robbers, I tell you!
CE: You think so?
A: I think that the problem with sexuality today is that sex has gone from being a lovely one-on-one sport to a high-stakes game of who-can-outdo-who! Which lady has the biggest boobies, which man can tear his partner in half? People have forgotten that the best sex takes place ABOVE the waist! What liberated woman out there hasn’t been with a “super-sized happy meal” that couldn’t pump its way out of a wet paper bag?
CE: It’s not a problem I’ve ever had to deal with. You see, I’m considered rather –
A: Don’t brag, dear. Some of my most fulfilling sexual adventures have been because of the quality of the ride, not the size of the car.
CE: You do, of course, know from talent.
Aida takes a sip of her beverage while looking her gardener up and down... undoubtedly to inspect the crispness of his uniform. She appears pleased by what she finds and gives her horticulturist a pointed look.
A: No argument there.
CE: I JUST saw your latest YouTube.com music video. Fantastic, of course! But was that cocaine you and your backup singers -- The Cokettes -- were snorting out of those bottles?
A: I deny it emphatically! Those were antihistamines. We have terrible allergies.
CE: I’ll write that down for the record... Is it true that Barack Obama himself is calling for “Libido in 2012?”
A: That man has been calling for “Libido” since we met at Michael Ayers’ Christmas party back in… Oh, you mean on the ‘ticket!’ Yes, it’s true, but politics are so vulgar, don’t you think?
CE: Definitely. But I understand you’re really upset about the passing of California’s Prop 8.
A: Like I’ve been saying for months, “H8 Ain’t Pretty.” I’m all FOR gay marriage. Of course, I’m all FOR any man who’s willing to commit.
CE: Boy, I hear that.
A: Hopefully the courts will overturn.
CE: I hope you don’t mind me playing Devil’s advocate… but what about those who say the people have spoken, that it was a majority vote? That it’s not the courts’ job to override the will of the people.
Aida sighs deeply and seems to connect with some inner spiritual wisdom. I almost feel the spirit of the Buddha enveloping the room as she sucks the pimento out of an olive.
A: There are valid constitutional questions about the legitimacy of that bill…
I notice that Iran’s president ACKMADINAJAD – squatting on his haunches beside the bathroom door -- is scrawling copious notes on a dried goat skin.
A: …And more importantly, don’t forget it was the Supreme Court that made it legal for blacks and whites to marry back in the 1960’s. At the time, 70% of the voting age population was against interracial marriage. Is there an American today not living in an Alabama trailer park who would say this was a mistake on the part of the Court… that equal protection of marriage rights aren’t constitutional rights?
Suddenly Ben Affleck breaks into spontaneous applause. Alec Baldwin and Terry Hatcher weep openly.
CE: Brilliantly stated!
A: And isn’t it time to question the tax exempt status of the Church of Latter Day Saints who were the primary funders of that bill? I won’t even mention the other wack-job religious institutions that backed that bill. They benefitted a LOT from freedom of religion. When are they going to embrace the “mind-your-own-fucking-business” amendment?
John Stewart and Lewis Black step out from behind a massive bouquet of crimson roses sent my Cardinal Desmond Tutu and jump up and down like deranged cheerleaders. It takes all of my personal strength to stay seated and remain in the moment.
CE: No wonder Al Gore worships you!
A: And remember, fifty percent of all LEGAL marriages in this country end in divorce. It’s my admittedly humble opinion that gay marriage can’t but improve the odds.
At this point a deranged Anne Coulter breaks into the room swinging a flaming cross over her head and rushes towards Aida with the obvious intent of creating a secular martyr. Fortunately Rosie O’Donnell tackles the knock-kneed transvestite to the ground and beats the rightwing harpy to a bloody pulp just before Charlton Heston – in a senile but good-hearted attempt to do the right thing -- causes a scandal by blowing the anorexic nutcase’s head off with a .44 Magnum.
Aida shakes her head in disapproval as Justin Timberlake drags the limp commentator from the room.
A: Goodness, that ‘girl’ really does have the most pronounced Adam’s apple!
CE: Let’s move on to juicier tidbits. Are the rumors true that Angelina Jolie is suing you for the break-up of her marriage to Brad Pitt?
A: Those are typical tabloid fabrications. I would NEVER attempt to break up a happy marri …
Ms. Libido seems to become aware of a certain confused vibe emanating from everyone in the room.
A: Alright, that’s stretching it a bit. But Madonna and Guy haven’t been happy in years.
CE: You’re seeing GUY RICHIE???!!!
A: No, Dear. Madonna.
I nearly choke on my breath mint.
CE: WHAT????!!!!!!
A: But I’ve spoken out of turn. You know I’m not one to kiss and tell. (sipping her cocktail) Oh, Did I tell you about the time in Monaco when George Clooney stuck his finger in my --
CE: You and Madonna are --
A: My friend, she didn’t JUST learn singing and dancing from me…
CE: But… but…!
Aida notices that her beverage is once again empty. She presents her empty glass to her gardener.
A: Strange, I’m feeling parched. Raoul, pour Mama another martini. Just a tiny triple this time.
She turns back to me.
A: Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit... Ms. Ciccone and I diddled a few times. But I had to end it. She kept referring to what we were doing as “clam smashing.” It just didn’t seem ladylike.
CE: Nobody ever accused Madonna of being a lady.
A: Yes, but that IS rather her appeal, isn’t it?
Aida miraculously balances her stemware upon her perfect knee as she addresses a new Divaboys Greetings card to Jay Leno.
CE: You’re doing The Tonight Show?
A: Oh, gracious, no! Jay is SO last Tuesday. I’m just finally getting around to sending the autograph he’s been hounding me for.
CE: Is it true that Barack Obama himself is calling for “Libido in 2012?”
A: What can I say? The man’s a fan.
CE: I understand that Meryl Streep was recently quoted as saying –
Amazing as it sounds, I can swear I see blue flames shooting from Aida’s ears.
A: Oh, FUCK Meryl Streep!!!
Boo-Boo the Wonder Dog begins to snarl and snap in a fury.
CE: Excuse me?
A: She’s evil and we hate her!
I’m bewildered when I see that the gathered crowd all nod in agreement.
A: That rabid little hag thinks she’s hot shit just because she’s taken a few “acting classes!”
CROWD: Booooo!!!
Boo-Boo snaps and foams at the mouth.
CE: Well, not to be devil’s advocate, but Ms. Streep HAS done some rather memorable –
A: That backstabbing cougar robbed me of roles I was BORN to play. “A dingo ate my baby,” my ASS! And “I was the French Lieutenant’s WHOOOOORE!!!” You BET, she was! And half the French Foreign Legion as well!
Aida empties a bottle of large oval pills into her palm and washes them down with a gulp of vodka.
CE: So, there’s truth to the rumor that there’s bad blood between you and Mer –
A: She’s had it in for me ever since I beat her out for “Miss Okeefanokee Swamp” back in ’72.
Indelicate as it is, I can’t help but do a little middle school math in my head.
CE: 1972? But according to your biography you’re only 34 years old. If you beat Meryl Streep back in ‘72, you’d have to be at least --
Aida must be parched because she suddenly gulps her refreshment down in one fell toss. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she is giving me a murderous look. I, of course, decide it must just be ‘gas.’
CE: What projects are coming up for you next?
A: There’s the David La Chapelle spread for Vogue, Playboy in December I think, the MacArthur Prize dinner sometime right after the New Year. Oh, I shouldn’t forget my restaging of The Sisters Rosensweig with Margaret Cho and Kathy Griffin. And, of course, the Staggering Libido Sisters are FINALLY going on the road with our world tour – I’ll do anything to make sure my sisters can pay the rent... poor things. Best of all, I’ve become the spokes model for Divaboys Greetings! My reps have been working that angle for months.
CE: Wonderful! You’re famous for your love of their products.
A: They are adorable. Hilarious and of the highest quality. Unfortunately my people are suing them.
CE: What????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A: Oh, it’s nothing! Just a matter of money. Not that I don’t approve of people getting rich off of my name, you know. But I draw the line at full frontal.
CE: Those bastards didn’t?!
A: Dear, it’ll all work out in the courts. There will be no hard feelings. In the mean time, take a gander at www.divaboysgreetings.com and you’ll see moi everywhere... except between the legs. I’m saving those for Hugh Hefner.
CE: You’re going to do Playboy?!
A: My lips – no joke intended -- are sealed. But make sure you’ve got a subscription for December, 2009.
Despite my fundamental immunity to celebrity ‘news’, this offhanded pronouncement nearly knocks me off the sofa.
But before I fully recover and can press Aida for more, she looks at her emerald-studded Tiffany watch and pointedly notices that time is running short.
A: But, yes, I AM the new face of Divaboys Greetings. Their cards are the ONLY way to say hello to the ones you love these days. I mean, email is just so… “Ick.”
CE: Aren’t you worried that “snailmail” is considered a bit retro these day?
The brow of “She-Who-Is-American-Culture” wrinkles with heartfelt concern.
A: Our culture has become so impersonal these days… It’s time for a general reconnect.
I notice that the chins of every celebrity in the room are bobbing up and down in agreement. Bill O’Reilly appears on the verge of breaking into tears.
A: I think it’s time for all educated and right-thinking Americans to do their part for our struggling economy and spend a few measly bucks on loads of high quality, environmentally-friendly, and frankly HILARIOUS stationary products if for no other reason than that family and friends feel like you give a hairy rat’s patoot.
It seems that there is not a dry eye in the room.
A: Every time someone buys a Divaboys Greetings card, Osama bin Laden tears out a clump of his own hair. Each purchase helps to defeat terrorism!
Laura Bush suddenly throws herself onto the ground and begins rolling about in ecstasy.
CE: You are the queen of ‘feel good,’ Aida.
A: Funny, I don’t think Raoul here would disagree.
America’s Darling holds out her drink to her adoring manservant.
A: Don’t be stingy this time, Sweets.
The lusty sound of glugging spirits fills the room.
CE: Aida, thank you so much for sharing your time with us.
A: I live only to give. See you on the red carpet!
………………………………………………
AIDA’S TOP HOLLYWOOD RESTAURANT:
Café d’Etoile (understated neighborhood foodery with a lovely crowd, wonderful comfort food, higher-end international, gorgeous wait staff, outdoor patio, and a horny maitre d’hotel.)
Try the:
Duck Salad
Onion Soup (unless you’re on a first date)
Scallops and Prawns
Dirty Martini’s
………………………………
AIDA’S BEST RECENT DATE:
Jake Gyllenhal: For those who were frustrated by his cocktease unwillingness to show the goods in “Brokeback Mountain”…………… MMMMmmmmmm!
……………………………………
AIDA’s FAVORITE DESIGNER:
Bob Mackey.
......................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE COSMETICS:
Anything that comes with a spackle knife.
…………………………………….
AIDA’S FAVORITE PLACE TO PERFORM:
Believe it or not, Hollywood is only #2 on Aida’s list of favorite places to work a stadium. Note that William Morris should stop hogging all the seats in the first ten rows. Talk about a bunch of cynical tight-asses! She prefers playing to the upper decks.
Her favorite venues are in:
TOKYO (the lovely and tasteful Japanese set aside their usual formality and reserved social selves and go stark raving bonkers when La Libido steps upon a stage. Their excitement only builds as the night goes on AND they really know how to throw an after-party!
....................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE LATE NIGHT SNACK:
Fugu ovaries.
.......................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE DESSERT:
George Clooney.
...................................
......................................
....................................
Vanity Fair’s Proust Questionnaire
As answered by
Aida Libido
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
The “perfect” martini.
What is your greatest fear?
9 to 5.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Modesty to a fault.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Sensible shoes.
Which living person do you most admire?
Vera Wang.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Sequins.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Virginity.
On what occasion do you lie?
When I’m too tired to stand.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
Let’s just say Japan isn’t the only place this girl is big.
Which living person do you most despise?
Meryl Streep.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Make it a double.”
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Jimmy Choo.
When and where were you happiest?
Waking up under the Dallas Cowboys.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Always giving ‘til it hurts.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Climbing Everest in stilettos.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Queen of the Fucking Universe.
Where would you like to live?
The Vatican.
What is your most treasured possession?
My youth and beauty.
What is your favorite occupation?
Afghanistan.
What is your most marked characteristic?
Staggering amounts of raw talent.
What do you most value in your friends?
Supplication.
Who are your favorite writers?
Joan and Jackie Collins.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Mary Magdelene.
What is it that you most dislike?
Fundamentalism. As in “Sean Hannity is fundamentally an asshole.”
What is your greatest regret?
That there isn’t more of me to give, give, give.
How would you like to die?
Botox poisoning.
What is your motto?
“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing.”
12/13/2008
Greetings, Fellow Libido-philes!
My name is Christopher Easton and I am the President-for-Life of the Official Aida Libido Fan Club. I am thrilled to announce that finally – after many years of BEGGING on the parts of myself and her millions of worshipful fans – Aida Libido has at last given a modest nod of her naturally platinum-blonde noggin and approved the go-ahead for us – the Great Unwashed – to meet, greet, and wallow in all things “Libido.”
This is not to say that “La Libido” didn’t have certain issues about this project. When pressed about her uncharacteristic caution regarding the spotlight, “America’s Beloved” shyly admitted that she feared becoming just a smidge “over-exposed.” This heartbreakingly unfounded reservation brought such a massive inhalation of breathe from everyone in the room – i.e. myself, her extensive staff (maids, chefs, masseurs, manicurists), management (agents, publicists, astrologers), and entourage (a virtual who’s-who of A- list celebrities, athletes, international journalists, and politicians from BOTH sides of the aisle), that the sudden drop of air pressure nearly caused the room’s walls to implode. Paris Hilton wept openly, Larry King tore his shirt, and Pope Benedict fell prostrate to the floor.
It wasn’t until Britney Spears used her forehead to smash the priceless Louie XVI mirror over the credenza and threatened to slit her wrists with one of the tumbling shards, that Aida became aware of the upsetting repercussions of her statement.
Calming the mortified throng with an insistent wave of her jewel-encrusted hand, “America’s Darling” stated that she was “just a-joshin’.” Therein she sighed deeply and – delicately dampening her lips with her iconic shaken-not-stirred dirty martini -- stated that although Time Magazine had crowned her “Most Popular Celebrity EVER,” and although she was winner of 17 Grammies, an Academy Award (for her staggering performance in the Anna Nichole Smith docudrama, “My Life As A Hog”), and Nobel Peace Prize Laureate (for bringing lip gloss to the 3rd world), there probably WAS a tad bit more room for her in the public eye. This praiseworthy understatement caused one and all to break into thunderous applause and thankfully gave Oprah Winfrey a reason to remove the gun from her temple.
But I digress.
In honor of this landmark new opportunity for us – her adoring throngs – to worship her in a more personal way, Our Darling has agreed to answer a few questions regarding her magical life.
What follows is PART I of my ongoing series of interviews with “She-Who-Brings-Light-Unto-This-Dark-World”…. Aida Libido.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
This reporter is led into Aida Libido’s boudoir as the “Queen-of-All-Media” lounges upon a leopard skin couch (faux, I later discovered via a rather formal letter sent by her lawyer/publicist) and daintily sips upon her signature “Aida Cocktail” (a dirty Absolute martini with three olives and a single pubic hair donated by Josh Grobin).
The room seems to breathe with the refreshing oxygen given off by a forest of exotic bouquets of flowers sent from admirers far and wide.
Celebrity “A-listers” and assorted royalty – Hollywood and otherwise – fill the expansive room and there aren’t enough chairs for so much as a quarter of the crowd. It is so ass-to-elbow in the room that Nicole Kidman has to sit on the floor in a far corner with a philodendron in her lap.
Nancy Pelosi huddles on the floor next to Christina Aguilera.
Clive Aiken discreetly attempts to fondle Colin Farrell beside the wet bar.
Elvis Costello sits in a corner with Prince Charles balanced precariously upon his lap.
Jennifer Hudson, Jennifer Aniston, and Jennifer Lopez catfight in an attempt to be the next to enter the room.
Pandemonium would break out if it weren’t for the Zen-like peacefulness infusing this inner sanctum from the direction of our matron’s sofa.
Resting upon Aida Libido’s lap is a collection of her favorite Divaboys Greetings cards that she is famous for sending to family, friends, and fans far and wide. As everyone knows, she signs each correspondence by hand using an albino peacock quill pen. Even from this distance I can make out the spectacularly crisp handwriting that reads, “Dearest Liz, thank you so much for the 100-piece set of Buckingham Palace china. Unfortunately, my current design needs don’t allow me to...”
Aida is resplendent in a silver-sequined Bob Mackey mini dress that shows so much leg it would give Richard Simmons a ‘woody.’ About her shoulders is a pure white wrap of mink (again, faux, I came to learn from Aida’s lawyer), which coordinates perfectly with her whimsically retro platinum bouffant. The soft light of the room is reflected by my hostess’s silver dress, having the effect of casting a virtual halo of starlight about her ample bosom.
I am in awe!
Resting on either side of her are her beloved pets -- “Yogi” the Siamese cat and “Boo-Boo” the Wonder Dog. Neither appears to appreciate this intrusion by what they must deem one of God’s lesser creations. Boo-Boo’s cantankerous growl and nip at my knee support my hypothesis.
Next to the sofa stands Ms. Libidos’s stunningly handsome Guatemalan gardener, Raoul, who appears to have taken a break from trimming bushes outside in order to studiously fluff his employer’s pillows and massage her slender neck. It’s been suggested in the tabloid media that Raoul “trims” inside the house as well. But such disgusting intimations obviously have no validity within these famously sacred walls. In fact, “America’s Beloved” occasionally stroked her arborist’s hovering thigh, undoubtedly in a geopolitically savvy display of cross-cultural fraternalism. Whatever the case, both Aida and her employee seem to enjoy each others’ company immensely.
Aida looks up and her already glowing visage brightens with pleasure at noticing my approach. I blush like a love-struck schoolboy every time she honors me with such generous affection. What red-blooded man wouldn’t?!
Aida dramatically casts her quill aside, hands Raoul her stemware, and opens her arms wide in invitation for a hug. Almost TOO enthusiastically, I cast myself into her satiny embrace. How do I describe the experience? The warmth of her alabaster skin, the rapturous feel of her fur forming a cocoon about my shoulders, the intoxicating scent of Opium by Yves St. Laurent, the rarified aroma of expensive vodka and Double Mint gum on her breath… it all makes my head spin!
Ah, to be in such a presence!
AIDA: My Dear, it’s been ages! You’re a mean old thing for not coming around more often.d
Christopher Easton: Uh… the guards at the gate make it kind of hard to --
A: Oh, don’t just stand there! Sit down next to me.
I do so gladly, but not before receiving a jealous little nip on the backside from Boo-Boo.
A: Now, Boo, you stop that this instant! Mr. Easton isn’t going to attack me, are you, Christopher?
CE: Not unless I’m invited.
With this, the lovely creature bursts into delighted laughter.
A: Oh, you are SUCH a flirt!
She retrieves her cocktail from gardener.
A: Isn’t he a flirt, Raoul?
I don’t understand Spanish, so I can only assume that the “Puto” Raoul muttered under his breath means, “Yes, I agree.”
CE: Aida, thank you SO MUCH for giving me this opportunity.
A: Oh, don’t get so formal! You know that after all these years, I feel you’ve become my best friend, nee’ in fact, an almost literal part of me.
I gasp dramatically, hand to throat.
CE: Oh, my God! I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME WAY!!! It’s like we’re one and the same person! We think alike, some folks say we LOOK alike, we’re both GIVERS to a fault. Women want to BE us and men want to be INSIDE us! We --
A: Is there a point to this, dear?
CE: Oh, gosh, I was gushing, wasn’t I?
A: Darling, we must get started. I’m having cocktails with P. Diddy at 8:00.
CE: Just a few questions then. Members of the Aida Libido Fan Club and Blog Site are clamoring to know the latest.
A: Shoot.
CE: Is there anything to the rumor that you refused to become the fourth judge on American Idol because of the overwhelming likelihood that audience write-in votes would always deem you winner even though you never went on stage.
A: Not true. I refused American Idol because Simon Cowell is a putz and Ryan Seacrest is… well... Ryan Seacrest.
CE: So what will you be doing?
A: Oh, it’s quite original. I’m doing a Maury Povich-style Christmas special in which the Virgin Mary asks, “Who My Baby Daddy?” The guests will include St. Joseph, God the Father, and some oversexed trailer park redneck from Arkansas.
CE: The ex-presid -- ?
A: Yes.
CE: Bit of a coup to get Bill Clinton on the list.
She gives me a saucy wink.
A: Not if you like a good cigar, Kiddo.
Suddenly I notice an oddly familiar-looking personage leaning up against a potted dwarf palm tree in the far corner. The lady appears a bit more than just ‘green around the gills.’
CE: Is...uh... is that Princess Diana propped up against that plant?
A: Why, yes, it is! I’ve missed the unfortunate dear so much since the funeral that I asked William and Harry to ship her over. And her patina goes rather well with the carpet, don’t you think? Of course my room deodorizer bill has gone through the roof, but having her near me is worth the trouble.
CE: Is it true that you’re the new Save-The-Children spokesperson?
A: Yes, it is! I just ADORE children. In fact this very dress I’m wearing was MADE by some!
CE: It’s lovely.
A: It is, isn’t it? Anyway, the decision to get involved wasn’t an easy one. I’ve had to take some strong stands on childrens’ issues lately.
CE: Such as…
A: Well, all this ugliness lately about pedophilia and child molestation by priests and Republicans –
CE: And Michael Jackson.
A: Exactly! I cannot watch this go on any longer without addressing the issue.
CE: What are your plans?
A: Well, next week I’ll be addressing Congress about looking into the situation.
CE: Really?
A: Yes. I think it’s a scandal that our spiritual and political leaders – not to mention our pop stars -- are being seduced by all these slutty little eight-year-old boys running around out there flaunting themselves.
CE: You seem quite impassioned.
A: I am LIVID!
Aida delicately downs the last of her drink and hands it to Raoul for refilling. While he does so, she selects another lovely Divaboys Greetings card and addresses it to Mario Lopez.
A: It’s just not fair to the rest of us. Do you have any idea how much work it is for a woman over twenty-nine in our society to stay forever attractive? Think of it -- the time, the expense, the PAIN! Have you ever endured a hot wax?
Raoul presents Ms. Libido with a fresh glass, careful not to spill a drop upon the high-quality, environmentally-friendly stationary.
A: And here are all of these trashy little fourth graders running around with their wide eyes and clear skin. Every single one of them looks like they’ve had a perfect Brazilian wax. I mean, how CAN a post-pubescent girl compete?
CE: I’ve never really thought of it that way… Speaking of hair, is that a real mink you’re wearing?
Here Aida spits a mouthful of vodka across the room, presumably due to a large olive going down the wrong way. And for some reason the room suddenly grows quiet as Pamela Anderson – who until that moment had been busy picking lint out of her toenails behind a flowering guava – looks up at her mentor with a shocked start.
A: Fur? Oh, uh… “natural” fur, you mean?! Absolutely NOT! Why all of God’s creatures are our brothers and sisters. Our Heavenly Father put us here to CARE for our poor flea-bitten brethren, NOT exploit them.
Aida appears to be overheating a bit and hastily removes the amazingly natural-looking fur from around her bosom. She then hands it to her demigod gardener and leans meaningfully towards him.
A: Ixney with the ink-may, chop-chop!
The Diva appears to remember that I am studiously taking notes.
A: Uh… You’ll note that I’m one of the few people who speak Raoul’s native “Guatemalan.”
CE: I didn’t know Guatemalan was a lang –
A: What were we discussing?
Pamela Anderson: Flea-bitten brethren.
Aida pauses a moment before turning towards her mentee.
A: Pam, dear, why don’t you go in the kitchen and whip us up some of that delicious “Tofutti” you’re so fond of? When you get back, I’ll give you another tip on how to attract the boys.
The ex-Mrs. Lee leaves the room, her lower lip visibly quivering.
CE: She looks a bit bewildered.
A: I just love Pam. She’s a lovely girl and does mean well. But, God, can she bum out a barbecue!
CE: Not everyone can be as sophisticated as you.
Aida refreshes herself with another sip of her cocktail and seems to consider. She then leans towards me.
A: Honestly, I WOULD be a vegetarian if cows weren’t so tasty.
I notice that the Dali Lama, who is sitting cross-legged beside the wet bar, is taking copious notes… apparently seeking quotes for his latest book of inspirational quotes.
CE: Beautifully stated.
Aida seems pleased.
CE: Obviously the man/boy love thing really gets your goat. What else are you passionate about?
A: I’m so glad you asked. Have you seen these ridiculous and outrageous so-called info-mercials playing at night offering enlargement of the “male member” with nothing more than a pill or a canned drink?
CE: We all have.
A: Well, I think it’s disgusting. Those people are robbers, I tell you!
CE: You think so?
A: I think that the problem with sexuality today is that sex has gone from being a lovely one-on-one sport to a high-stakes game of who-can-outdo-who! Which lady has the biggest boobies, which man can tear his partner in half? People have forgotten that the best sex takes place ABOVE the waist! What liberated woman out there hasn’t been with a “super-sized happy meal” that couldn’t pump its way out of a wet paper bag?
CE: It’s not a problem I’ve ever had to deal with. You see, I’m considered rather –
A: Don’t brag, dear. Some of my most fulfilling sexual adventures have been because of the quality of the ride, not the size of the car.
CE: You do, of course, know from talent.
Aida takes a sip of her beverage while looking her gardener up and down... undoubtedly to inspect the crispness of his uniform. She appears pleased by what she finds and gives her horticulturist a pointed look.
A: No argument there.
CE: I JUST saw your latest YouTube.com music video. Fantastic, of course! But was that cocaine you and your backup singers -- The Cokettes -- were snorting out of those bottles?
A: I deny it emphatically! Those were antihistamines. We have terrible allergies.
CE: I’ll write that down for the record... Is it true that Barack Obama himself is calling for “Libido in 2012?”
A: That man has been calling for “Libido” since we met at Michael Ayers’ Christmas party back in… Oh, you mean on the ‘ticket!’ Yes, it’s true, but politics are so vulgar, don’t you think?
CE: Definitely. But I understand you’re really upset about the passing of California’s Prop 8.
A: Like I’ve been saying for months, “H8 Ain’t Pretty.” I’m all FOR gay marriage. Of course, I’m all FOR any man who’s willing to commit.
CE: Boy, I hear that.
A: Hopefully the courts will overturn.
CE: I hope you don’t mind me playing Devil’s advocate… but what about those who say the people have spoken, that it was a majority vote? That it’s not the courts’ job to override the will of the people.
Aida sighs deeply and seems to connect with some inner spiritual wisdom. I almost feel the spirit of the Buddha enveloping the room as she sucks the pimento out of an olive.
A: There are valid constitutional questions about the legitimacy of that bill…
I notice that Iran’s president ACKMADINAJAD – squatting on his haunches beside the bathroom door -- is scrawling copious notes on a dried goat skin.
A: …And more importantly, don’t forget it was the Supreme Court that made it legal for blacks and whites to marry back in the 1960’s. At the time, 70% of the voting age population was against interracial marriage. Is there an American today not living in an Alabama trailer park who would say this was a mistake on the part of the Court… that equal protection of marriage rights aren’t constitutional rights?
Suddenly Ben Affleck breaks into spontaneous applause. Alec Baldwin and Terry Hatcher weep openly.
CE: Brilliantly stated!
A: And isn’t it time to question the tax exempt status of the Church of Latter Day Saints who were the primary funders of that bill? I won’t even mention the other wack-job religious institutions that backed that bill. They benefitted a LOT from freedom of religion. When are they going to embrace the “mind-your-own-fucking-business” amendment?
John Stewart and Lewis Black step out from behind a massive bouquet of crimson roses sent my Cardinal Desmond Tutu and jump up and down like deranged cheerleaders. It takes all of my personal strength to stay seated and remain in the moment.
CE: No wonder Al Gore worships you!
A: And remember, fifty percent of all LEGAL marriages in this country end in divorce. It’s my admittedly humble opinion that gay marriage can’t but improve the odds.
At this point a deranged Anne Coulter breaks into the room swinging a flaming cross over her head and rushes towards Aida with the obvious intent of creating a secular martyr. Fortunately Rosie O’Donnell tackles the knock-kneed transvestite to the ground and beats the rightwing harpy to a bloody pulp just before Charlton Heston – in a senile but good-hearted attempt to do the right thing -- causes a scandal by blowing the anorexic nutcase’s head off with a .44 Magnum.
Aida shakes her head in disapproval as Justin Timberlake drags the limp commentator from the room.
A: Goodness, that ‘girl’ really does have the most pronounced Adam’s apple!
CE: Let’s move on to juicier tidbits. Are the rumors true that Angelina Jolie is suing you for the break-up of her marriage to Brad Pitt?
A: Those are typical tabloid fabrications. I would NEVER attempt to break up a happy marri …
Ms. Libido seems to become aware of a certain confused vibe emanating from everyone in the room.
A: Alright, that’s stretching it a bit. But Madonna and Guy haven’t been happy in years.
CE: You’re seeing GUY RICHIE???!!!
A: No, Dear. Madonna.
I nearly choke on my breath mint.
CE: WHAT????!!!!!!
A: But I’ve spoken out of turn. You know I’m not one to kiss and tell. (sipping her cocktail) Oh, Did I tell you about the time in Monaco when George Clooney stuck his finger in my --
CE: You and Madonna are --
A: My friend, she didn’t JUST learn singing and dancing from me…
CE: But… but…!
Aida notices that her beverage is once again empty. She presents her empty glass to her gardener.
A: Strange, I’m feeling parched. Raoul, pour Mama another martini. Just a tiny triple this time.
She turns back to me.
A: Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit... Ms. Ciccone and I diddled a few times. But I had to end it. She kept referring to what we were doing as “clam smashing.” It just didn’t seem ladylike.
CE: Nobody ever accused Madonna of being a lady.
A: Yes, but that IS rather her appeal, isn’t it?
Aida miraculously balances her stemware upon her perfect knee as she addresses a new Divaboys Greetings card to Jay Leno.
CE: You’re doing The Tonight Show?
A: Oh, gracious, no! Jay is SO last Tuesday. I’m just finally getting around to sending the autograph he’s been hounding me for.
CE: Is it true that Barack Obama himself is calling for “Libido in 2012?”
A: What can I say? The man’s a fan.
CE: I understand that Meryl Streep was recently quoted as saying –
Amazing as it sounds, I can swear I see blue flames shooting from Aida’s ears.
A: Oh, FUCK Meryl Streep!!!
Boo-Boo the Wonder Dog begins to snarl and snap in a fury.
CE: Excuse me?
A: She’s evil and we hate her!
I’m bewildered when I see that the gathered crowd all nod in agreement.
A: That rabid little hag thinks she’s hot shit just because she’s taken a few “acting classes!”
CROWD: Booooo!!!
Boo-Boo snaps and foams at the mouth.
CE: Well, not to be devil’s advocate, but Ms. Streep HAS done some rather memorable –
A: That backstabbing cougar robbed me of roles I was BORN to play. “A dingo ate my baby,” my ASS! And “I was the French Lieutenant’s WHOOOOORE!!!” You BET, she was! And half the French Foreign Legion as well!
Aida empties a bottle of large oval pills into her palm and washes them down with a gulp of vodka.
CE: So, there’s truth to the rumor that there’s bad blood between you and Mer –
A: She’s had it in for me ever since I beat her out for “Miss Okeefanokee Swamp” back in ’72.
Indelicate as it is, I can’t help but do a little middle school math in my head.
CE: 1972? But according to your biography you’re only 34 years old. If you beat Meryl Streep back in ‘72, you’d have to be at least --
Aida must be parched because she suddenly gulps her refreshment down in one fell toss. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she is giving me a murderous look. I, of course, decide it must just be ‘gas.’
CE: What projects are coming up for you next?
A: There’s the David La Chapelle spread for Vogue, Playboy in December I think, the MacArthur Prize dinner sometime right after the New Year. Oh, I shouldn’t forget my restaging of The Sisters Rosensweig with Margaret Cho and Kathy Griffin. And, of course, the Staggering Libido Sisters are FINALLY going on the road with our world tour – I’ll do anything to make sure my sisters can pay the rent... poor things. Best of all, I’ve become the spokes model for Divaboys Greetings! My reps have been working that angle for months.
CE: Wonderful! You’re famous for your love of their products.
A: They are adorable. Hilarious and of the highest quality. Unfortunately my people are suing them.
CE: What????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A: Oh, it’s nothing! Just a matter of money. Not that I don’t approve of people getting rich off of my name, you know. But I draw the line at full frontal.
CE: Those bastards didn’t?!
A: Dear, it’ll all work out in the courts. There will be no hard feelings. In the mean time, take a gander at www.divaboysgreetings.com and you’ll see moi everywhere... except between the legs. I’m saving those for Hugh Hefner.
CE: You’re going to do Playboy?!
A: My lips – no joke intended -- are sealed. But make sure you’ve got a subscription for December, 2009.
Despite my fundamental immunity to celebrity ‘news’, this offhanded pronouncement nearly knocks me off the sofa.
But before I fully recover and can press Aida for more, she looks at her emerald-studded Tiffany watch and pointedly notices that time is running short.
A: But, yes, I AM the new face of Divaboys Greetings. Their cards are the ONLY way to say hello to the ones you love these days. I mean, email is just so… “Ick.”
CE: Aren’t you worried that “snailmail” is considered a bit retro these day?
The brow of “She-Who-Is-American-Culture” wrinkles with heartfelt concern.
A: Our culture has become so impersonal these days… It’s time for a general reconnect.
I notice that the chins of every celebrity in the room are bobbing up and down in agreement. Bill O’Reilly appears on the verge of breaking into tears.
A: I think it’s time for all educated and right-thinking Americans to do their part for our struggling economy and spend a few measly bucks on loads of high quality, environmentally-friendly, and frankly HILARIOUS stationary products if for no other reason than that family and friends feel like you give a hairy rat’s patoot.
It seems that there is not a dry eye in the room.
A: Every time someone buys a Divaboys Greetings card, Osama bin Laden tears out a clump of his own hair. Each purchase helps to defeat terrorism!
Laura Bush suddenly throws herself onto the ground and begins rolling about in ecstasy.
CE: You are the queen of ‘feel good,’ Aida.
A: Funny, I don’t think Raoul here would disagree.
America’s Darling holds out her drink to her adoring manservant.
A: Don’t be stingy this time, Sweets.
The lusty sound of glugging spirits fills the room.
CE: Aida, thank you so much for sharing your time with us.
A: I live only to give. See you on the red carpet!
………………………………………………
AIDA’S TOP HOLLYWOOD RESTAURANT:
Café d’Etoile (understated neighborhood foodery with a lovely crowd, wonderful comfort food, higher-end international, gorgeous wait staff, outdoor patio, and a horny maitre d’hotel.)
Try the:
Duck Salad
Onion Soup (unless you’re on a first date)
Scallops and Prawns
Dirty Martini’s
………………………………
AIDA’S BEST RECENT DATE:
Jake Gyllenhal: For those who were frustrated by his cocktease unwillingness to show the goods in “Brokeback Mountain”…………… MMMMmmmmmm!
……………………………………
AIDA’s FAVORITE DESIGNER:
Bob Mackey.
......................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE COSMETICS:
Anything that comes with a spackle knife.
…………………………………….
AIDA’S FAVORITE PLACE TO PERFORM:
Believe it or not, Hollywood is only #2 on Aida’s list of favorite places to work a stadium. Note that William Morris should stop hogging all the seats in the first ten rows. Talk about a bunch of cynical tight-asses! She prefers playing to the upper decks.
Her favorite venues are in:
TOKYO (the lovely and tasteful Japanese set aside their usual formality and reserved social selves and go stark raving bonkers when La Libido steps upon a stage. Their excitement only builds as the night goes on AND they really know how to throw an after-party!
....................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE LATE NIGHT SNACK:
Fugu ovaries.
.......................................
AIDA’S FAVORITE DESSERT:
George Clooney.
...................................
......................................
....................................
Vanity Fair’s Proust Questionnaire
As answered by
Aida Libido
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
The “perfect” martini.
What is your greatest fear?
9 to 5.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Modesty to a fault.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Sensible shoes.
Which living person do you most admire?
Vera Wang.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Sequins.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Virginity.
On what occasion do you lie?
When I’m too tired to stand.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
Let’s just say Japan isn’t the only place this girl is big.
Which living person do you most despise?
Meryl Streep.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“Make it a double.”
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Jimmy Choo.
When and where were you happiest?
Waking up under the Dallas Cowboys.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Always giving ‘til it hurts.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Climbing Everest in stilettos.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Queen of the Fucking Universe.
Where would you like to live?
The Vatican.
What is your most treasured possession?
My youth and beauty.
What is your favorite occupation?
Afghanistan.
What is your most marked characteristic?
Staggering amounts of raw talent.
What do you most value in your friends?
Supplication.
Who are your favorite writers?
Joan and Jackie Collins.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Mary Magdelene.
What is it that you most dislike?
Fundamentalism. As in “Sean Hannity is fundamentally an asshole.”
What is your greatest regret?
That there isn’t more of me to give, give, give.
How would you like to die?
Botox poisoning.
What is your motto?
“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
