Skin Deep with John Ritter

The all-knowing "they" say it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but what about simply speaking the truth? If the truth (which is often stranger than fiction) happens to reveal illicit and unflattering information, should it be suppressed simply because the offender is deceased? 

It is in that spirit I recount the following sordid encounter with John Ritter, not for its salacious aspects, but as a seeker and speaker of truth. I relay these facts with no disrespect intended, based solely on my recollection and perspective.

Prior to marrying Amy Yasbeck, when John was married to Nancy Morgan (his first wife), it was well-known in certain circles that this beloved family man was a womanizing lech. This statement is not based on rumor, but through personal experience. Hey, why do you think his performance in "Skin Deep" was so good?

It was the mid-1990s, and I was out for a drink at Stanley's (a now defunct bar in Sherman Oaks). John had brought his brother Tom in for an impromptu mini-bachelor party, since Tom was getting married that weekend. John started to flirt with me and invited me to sit at their table. At one point, he leaned in as if to whisper something in my ear. I leaned in to hear what he had to say... and the creep stuck his tongue in my ear and started licking. 

I was disgusted and mortified, I didn't know how to handle that moment. I mean, what do you do? Slap John Ritter? Throw a drink on him? I just pulled away uncomfortably and pretended it didn't happen. As the night wore on, he became more drunk, and more lecherous... groping me. Believe me, I was not flattered. It shattered my illusion that he was the "nice guy" as painted in the media. Here was this married man, father of three kids, who was drunk in a bar sticking his tongue in a young woman's ear.

The party wore down. We all went outside and said goodnight. I drove home to my apartment. About 10 minutes later, my buzzer rang and it was John! He had followed me home. How awkward... I told him that, while I was flattered, I would never compromise my morals to be with a married man, famous or not. He was impressed that I turned him down, and we sat and talked until he sobered up enough to drive. John  scribbled his name and phone number for "Hearts Afire" on a memo pad, and offered to get me a job on the show. (I never did take him up on that.)

As he was leaving, I mentioned that Tom had invited me to the weekend's dinner at the Bombay Bicycle Club in Burbank, and said that if John felt awkward, I wouldn't attend. He insisted that I should go, and I did. It was rather brazen of me at the time to sit with a group of people that included John and his wife Nancy. Three was definitely a crowd that evening.

Ah well, I can add the experience to the list of strange celebrity encounters I've had through the years while living in Los Angeles. Yes, there were others, and perhaps I'll get around to writing a book or blogging about them as well. Should I have shtupped John Ritter? Nah.

Waxing Po'Etiquette

I don't mean to pick on the big O (Oprah, not Overstock.com or the all-important Orgasm, to be explored in another column) -- really, I don't -- but once again I found myself shaking my head at one of her shows. Over the weekend there was a late night rerun of a show from last year which talked about Etiquette according to a panel of alleged experts. I say alleged, because their credentials were questionable, in line with their advice.

This panel covered various topics, such as: Should a woman pay for dinner on the first date? I say yes, if she wants to get laid. Or, did you know that thrifty re-gifting is not the gift that keeps on giving? So throw out that thrice around the block fruitcake. Yes, the man in your life.

The show then moved on to more useful and interesting topics such as chewing gum, and no, they weren't discussing the profound relationship between geriatrics and mastication without one's teeth. I have to say, I do agree with Oprah on this issue: gum-chewing is unattractive. I'd even go so far as to assert that it's downright dirty, disgusting and decidedly uncouth.

But I parted paths with Oprah as soon as she told a story about a dinner guest's daughter who had removed a wad of gum from her mouth at the table, and put it on her plate. Oprah admits to being horrified as she waited for the peas to roll and touch the gum. Worse than that, however, it seems she was so traumatized by the very sight of this unsightly gum, that she couldn't consume her meal (hard to believe). And as if that weren’t hard enough to swallow… after the guests left, Oprah (or her staff) actually threw out THAT specific plate because she didn't want to wonder which plate in her china closet had once been graced by a wad of gum, dad gum it! Can you believe the idiosyncratic neurosis of that? And not one expert had the balls to point out that she's turning into Howard Hughes! Chew on that.

Well, the show next headed Down Under. No, not Australia. I’m speaking metaphorically here, as they segued into a segment on the benefits of Brazilian Waxes. Before we go further, I want to go on record to say that I am of eastern European descent, meaning my body hair is dark and there’s no shortage of it.

I started waxing two years ago at a now ex-boyfriend's request. The breakup had nothing to do with the waxing, I swear. Although it is pricey at $100 for both pits and the whole Magilla (that eastern European gorilla thing), it is so worth it. There are variations on the theme including Brazilian, Playboy, Bikini, Playkini, and other forms of follicle torture. The waxpert insisted that a Brazilian leaves a patch of hair in front. However, each spa may define these differently, so be sure to clarify what you want before you're naked on your back being smeared with hot gooey wax.

Back to Oprah. So we’re ready to uncover the naked truth on waxing. What did we get instead? A panel of grown women on television, including Oprah who was once a “journalist,” and not one was comfortable enough in her own skin to say the words vagina, vulva, crotch, pubic area or pubic hair. Nope, no such terminology here. Instead we got a panel member who described the waxing as "removing that stuff down there." I was laughing so hard it brought tears to my eyes... or perhaps it was the pain of tweezing those stray hairs the wax missed?

Ladies - haven't we come far enough in our liberation that we should feel no shame about our body parts? What example was Oprah setting for women across the country when she giggled and blushed like a prepubescent teen during this discussion? When a show is meant to be informational, what a disservice to the viewers when the experts and the host can't even refer to body parts without embarrassment! Journalist, my ass.

Another expert said that on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being a Caesarean section, getting waxed is an 8 1/2. Now I've never had a Caesarean, but as someone with a low threshold for pain, I can tell you that getting waxed on the labia smarts for a few seconds, and the pain is no more than a 4, and that's if you're a wuss.

Here's the basic difference in terms of what is hair today, and gone in seconds. With a Bikini wax, imagine you put on a bikini (not a one-piece or those polyester plus size two-pieces with a skirt to hide cellulitic thighs, because this is a bikini wax, after all), and you don't want stray hairs peeking and poking out the sides. The bikini wax pulls out those rebellious hairs to give a shaped, defined edge or line hidden beneath your panties.

A Playboy wax is when the hair on your mons pubis is waxed down to a small landing strip or triangle, or whatever other shape you want, including the state of Texas in honor of President Bush.

A Playkini wax removes all of the pubic hair, including the hair on the labia. I will say that the first time you see your labia without "foliage" (as one lame expert on Oprah called it), it does take you time to adjust to the appearance. But men swear it makes cunnilingus (oral sex) more enjoyable for them - and hey, if they're having fun, we're having fun. Finally, a Brazilian does all of the above, and also rips out hair around your anus. The result is that your skin is as hairless and smooth as a newborn baby.

Now I won’t kid you. It’s an expensive habit. You have to tolerate the stubble and growth weeks in between waxing, for the hair to grow long enough to get it done again. It’s also humiliating. You’re more naked than at the gynecologist, and this total stranger who’s merely an aesthetician and never went to med school, is getting more up close and personal with your body than you ever will. You might even get a waxer who makes you hold your legs over your head or get on all fours for the butt ripper. If so, grin and bare it.

So if your outback looks like a jungle and you want to monkey around, clear cut the rain forest and go south to Rio. And while you're at it, have some Brazil nuts…and the best and biggest O of your life… and I don’t mean Overstock or Oprah.