Ballet, Perverts, and Ronald McDonald

I forgot to mention in my previous post that I was so distraught over my scant library finds that I went out and bought a pair of shoes. These shoes to be exact, which I got from the Target barn at an incredibly marked-down price ($7.48 baby!). They are Loeffler Randall Rosette ballet flats and don’t let the picture fool you, for they are much cheaper looking in person. That doesn’t bother me because I’m a cheap girl who likes cheap shoes, clothes, food, books, not so much cheap men—well, you get the picture. I just realized that the former sentence has all sorts of different connotations, but let’s just focus on the shoes and how I wanted to take ballet lessons but my parents wouldn’t let me on account of the dance instructor being a pervert.

My dad use to own a fish store. Not the fish you eat, but the kind you keep in a bowl, though you can eat those too (not that I would know). The fish store was situated in a concrete and stucco strip mall located a block away from my elementary school and in the corner of that strip mall was a dance studio run by a man with the flaming red hair of Jamie Fraser, but oh ho ho, he was no Jamie Fraser. In fact, he looked like he could be David Caruso’s twin brother if David Caruso had a fondness for polyester shirts and gold chained necklaces. His name was Perry and my dad thought he was a pervert.

Though that’s nothing new because according to my dad, the world was teeming with perverts who were a handle-bar mustache twitch away from robbing young maidens of their chastity. Of course, my parents read one too many true crime stories in the newspaper and I’m certain if we were living in another time, they would have me outfitted with a chastity belt, but this was 1993 and the best they could do was forbid me from taking ballet lessons at Perry’s Dance Studio.

It should be noted that my dad, who hadn’t the faintest clue who David Caruso was, thought Perry resembled Ronald McDonald, and we all knew Ronald looked like a pervert, what with that hair and that mouth and that hideous color combination. Don’t even get Dad started on the Hamburgler who said “Robble, Robble.” He got the hebbie jeebies every time we set foot in McDonalds.

I didn’t think Perry’s resemblance to Ronald McDonald was any reason to ban me from ballet lessons, so I protested and pleaded to no avail. That is, until the day the cops raided the dance studio and dragged Perry out in handcuffs for being, you guessed it, a pervert. My parents were right after all and when the Michael Jackson shit hit the fan that same year, it only confirmed their suspicions that every man who has a penchant for jewelry, whether they be sparkle gloves (in the case of MJ) or gold chains (in the case of Perry) was a degenerate.

Although I remained unmolested (I have my parents to thank for that), I missed my chance at ballet lessons, never learned how to be graceful, and as a result, I find myself stumbling through one life disaster after another like the time I locked myself into an organ freezer (this really happened) or when I accidentally sprayed a professor with liquid nitrogen (this really happened too). In case you’re curious, she didn’t shatter like the T1000, and after we defrosted her sweater and shoes over the bunsen burner, she wasn’t all that mad. That was probably the point when I realized that I didn’t exactly have the nimblest fingers in the science department and my parents’ dreams of me being a neurosurgeon was wishful thinking. Imagine me opening up someone’s brain!

God, my life is weird and this post has verged off on all sorts of tangents when I initially intended to show off my new shoes.

Since this is, after all, a book blog and the theme of today’s post has randomly centered on the topic of perverts, let’s marry the two topics and talk about literary perverts. Off the top of my head, I can name a few: Black Jack Randall from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series tops the list. And then there are the filthy men that populate the V.C. Andrews world. In the future, I’m going to composite a top ten list of the greatest literary perverts of all time and I want your input. So think very hard: have you encountered some really nasty characters in your readings?


4 thoughts on “Ballet, Perverts, and Ronald McDonald”

  1. You know how I love me some ginger-haired boys, but David Caruso? Yuck! That pervy Perry guy sounds disgusting!

    Great story. You really should publish, I swear!

    Oh, and about Jamie Frasier. My daughter and I were discussing your casting ideas the other night and we both agreed with your idea that Sean Bean would make a great older Jamie. What younger actor looks enough like Sean Bean to play Jamie as a young dude?

  2. Quinn Dexter – from Peter Hamilton’s epic Nights Dawn trilogy which is actually 6 paperbacks and it took me near to 3 months to read it all but WELL worth it. It’s hard-core sci-fi stuff but great underlying stories and rich character development and good sex scenes to boot.

  3. First off, I took ballet lessons for three years (until I had reached the stage where I needed to start doing point, at which case my mom pointed out that ruining my feet for nothing was not a good idea) and I’m still a total klutz. Like, I walk into walls and furniture and am always banging my hands on things. Lots of bruises!

    Now for literary pervs! I mean, there’s the obvious (Humbert Humbert), but the first one that sprang to my mind was William Hamleigh, from Pillars of the Earth. He enjoyed rape. Bastard.

  4. Oooh, pretty shoes, and cheap! Gotta love Target.

    Also – I took ballet lessons in grade 1 and 2 and remain the most uncoordinated person on the planet. 😉

    And the perverts? I’m sure I can think of some I didn’t like…get back to you.


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