Week 8.Tuesday

This morning i had a cup of green tea. I felt good about that, all those antioxidents coursing through my veins, travelling through my body, routing out the free radicals and processing them out of my body, kylie nodding approval. Oh the satisfaction of the healthy choice! It's like getting your teeth cleaned or going for your yearly physical--sucky but necessary. Okay, already with the lying--I LOVE GETTING MY TEETH CLEANED. Pap smear, well, that's just never going to be as much fun a someone climbing down your throat with surgical gloves on.

Walking to work my ipod died of exhaustion after playing Destroyer by the kinks--I guess that would make me tired too. I arrive at work, unable to hide from the siren call of the "illy" sign and the next thing you know i've undone all my good work with the green tea and I've got a gigantic latte clutched in my mittened paws. Soon, there will be another. Why coffee obsesso? The butt plan requires the giving up of processed foods and caffeine, which impedes proper drainage and dispelling of oogey things from the body. I wonder if kylie drinks coffee? I'm gonna ask...I will let you know how that turns out.

Kylie has started coming to me in my dreams. We talk, mostly about my ass, how it's doing, is there anything she can do to help, that sort of thing. I tell her just knowing her ass is out there is help enough. She's very supportive of my goals, and very kind, which i appreciate. A few years ago, i had dreams about David Duchovney. I was in a writing rut and he stopped by to cheer me on, tell me it was all possible. And then, one night, he made an inappropriate advance, and i had to end it. My mentor, my cheerleader had made a pass. And i thought he really believed in me. Well, after that, he just stopped coming 'round and i haven't dreamed of him since. I also used to dream that Christopher Walken kept me as a housepet and let me sleep at the foot of his bed. He never crossed the line.

skaters of every stripe

Dear Reader, for those of you just joining us here at "what would kylie do?" this blog is largely dedicated to the research and study of fine bums, like kylie's, and the refinement of my own posterior.

Which brings me to the Olympics. I watch and I stare--at the bums. The figure skaters and the speed skaters have got nice hard, rounded out behinds. I think I can skate. I have skated. Maybe i will skate. I'm just going to stop conjugating the verb "to skate".

There is a Russian skater with the last name of "Slutskaya"-- No problem getting dates there.

If i was a speed skater zipping around in those body-tards with the little breathing patch for the crotch (i'm not making this up, they have little mesh-y bits), and if i was a guy, or a certain kind of guy, i would seriously think about shoving a piece of hose or something down my pant leg--you know, show the lads and ladies a bit of the ol' naughty bits. OR, what if you filled the crotch area with marshmallows and just confuse everyone.

Week 7.5
I started today with a walk to work with a little encouragement from the kylie on my ipod. with every word of love for the dj in "love at first sight" i picture my average booty morphing into the uber booty (how do i get an umlaut on this thing?). I sit at my desk now with a very large latte and a pink muffin. okay, the pink muffin is gone...i ate it. it was very good.

butt buffer

This morning, my ass unchanged from the 20 minutes of faux yoga I did last night (lying on my yoga matt, watching X-files reruns on OMNI-something, with my kitty on my belly) I decide to try something new. A butt buffer from the faery's tub. I asked the alchemist known as freakgirlspew to make me something in a bar format since my new apartment has no tub (sad, sad casper with no tub). Well, she did. And it rocks. I rub myself down before the water runs with this cake-y thing that smells yummy and sloughs off the ooginess of dead skin cells, and i secretly believe it also removes the bad vibes that cause cellulite.

With the combined efforts of my X-files yoga cat-snuggle and the faery's butt buffing magic, i will be wearing hot pants in no time. pictures to follow...

kylie has my ass

Let me say right off the bat, I don't know kylie minogue. I don't think she knows how I covet her ass, but I suspect she's probably received quite a lot of fan mail to that effect. I've never purchased a kylie product. I am aware she has had breast cancer, and is said to be in full remission. She has a very nice bum.

Prior to the new year, I made a resolution: get kylie minogue's ass. How would I do this? Exercise, eat vegetables, stop drinking coffee directly out of the coffee pot. I resolved that on January 1, 2006 I would reshape my ass in to the shape that god(s) intended; kylie. this would not only be a physical journey, but a spiritual journey. and an emotional one, mostly for C, the man I live with, as he will have to deal with me during the caffeine withdrawal. The goal, a newly shaped ass for July 1, 2006.

Week 1
I think about kylie's butt a lot. I look for pictures online. While getting ready for bed I catch some sort of kylie spotlight on muchmusic--I take it as a sign. I am on the right track. I plan in secret; downloading the "better butt diet" from health websites, and clipping "ass centric" workouts from various publications.

Week 2
I share my "get kylie's ass plan" with friends. everyone immediately assumes i'm developing an eating disorder. they don't get that kylie as a role model is asspirational (ba dum ching). I take my kylie-ass movement underground. I obsess quietly. I still drink quite a bit of coffee. I can't figure out how to tell the coffee we're breaking up. it's going to be hard for both of us.

Week 3
While waiting for the elevator with my ten pound latte in hand I ask myself, self "what would kylie do?". I turn and look at the stairs that go up the five floors to my office. And as the doors of the elevator close, and I push "5" I think "kylie would take the stairs".

Weeks 4 thru 6
I do nothing. I drink more coffee than ever in silent protest against this new regime. I sleep. I have occasional panic attacks when I think about giving up coffee. I rationalize, for my ego's sake, that the reason I haven't started my kylie program is because I just moved from a house to an apartment and there is no room. my ego says with a smaller apartment I should really get to work on my ass. I tell my ass and my ego that I've been very busy to be concerned with such superficial things.

I cajole C into taking pictures of my ass, possibly for posting, you know for a "before" and "after". But the undies are see-through and it's all a bit low-rent American Apparel porn. I will have to re-take in proper cotton panties. C says he feels dirty taking the pictures and gets a little turned on.

Week 7
Today my ipod froze. it continued to shuffle albums and songs but the song that was playing froze. it was kylie's "love at first sight"--just frozen on the screen. even while ian curtis belts out 'she's lost control' there is kylie's name, inert on the screen. it's another sign.

Okay, I said earlier I've never purchased a kylie product. but I have since purchased this particular song for when i walk to work. I thought I needed to have something, you know, to cheer me on.