My Second Wife Looks at 31

December 6, 2007 at 9:56 pm | Posted in Birthday, Essays, TV | 9 Comments
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It has often been said that your marriage is only as strong as your ability to stave off former reality show contestants who are attracted to your creepy affection.

And in the case of my marriage, I’d have to say that adage holds true.

I really love my wife.  But I will leave her for Colleen Haskell, if ever given the chance.  We only live once.  And I devoted myself to Colleen before I’d ever met Ashlee.  So it’s only fair.

Today Colleen turns 31.  Aside from a co-starring role in “The Animal,” she has kept a low profile since being eliminated from the first season of “Survivor.”  Which has made it really difficult to stalk her.  But not altogether impossible…moo-ha-haaaaa!

After the jump is the text from Colleen Haskell’s coronation as “Celebrity Good Dude of the Issue” from our second issue of the now-defunct but always dope “Dude.”  The actual page can still be accessed through the Wayback Machine

Those were dark days when I first found Colleen.  And the writing is almost too lame for me to bear. I was young. 

But after all these years, I still harbor great adoration for that precious little monkey.  Perhaps one day I will find myself in a situation similar to the summer of 2001.  Ashlee will abandon me, and I’ll totally fall to pieces.  I’ll chain smoke and listen to Dylan until my ears bleed, but the misery won’t be nearly as romantic as it was the first time around.

And then across a crowded bar, I’ll see those squinty, joyous eyes.  And I’ll nervously approach her.  “Hi, Colleen.  My name’s Lucy.  Lucy the dog.” 

And she’ll be like, “Cool.  I like your jeans.  They lack style.” 

And then I’ll be like, “Cool.”  And then we will totally bone.

Dare to dream, dear reader.  Dare to dream.

colleen1.jpgCelebrity Good Dude of the Issue:
Colleen Haskall

My parents moved our family to New Jersey in the summer of 1984. With not a friend to speak of, I spent the majority of July and August planted in front of the television where I sulked and counted the days down to the first day of fourth grade. In spite of my parents’ empty assurances, I knew as the new kid in town I would be shat upon for sure. It was the worst summer of my life. Until Mary Lou. Sweet, sweet Mary Lou.

The 1984 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles were boycotted by the Soviets, and in their absence, we kicked some third-world ass and did it with style. The games featured Edwin Moses, Michael Jordan, Cheryl Miller, Greg Lougainis, and Jackie Joyner, and with Olympic Fever in full swing, even Men’s Gymnastics gold-medallists Peter Vidmar, Mitch Gaylord, and Bart Conners were pulling chicks.

Of all these stars, however, none shined brighter than Mary Lou.

I watched nearly every event of those games, but years later the image that stays with me is that of Mary Lou. Her sprint towards the vault. The ecstasy as she stuck the landing. The way her form-fitting red, white, and blue leotard fitted her form. I can still feel the warmth of her smile and its unusual effect on the bloodflow in my Jams. In a matter of seconds, America’s sweetheart had struck gold and I was in love.

The remainder of the summer passed with me obsessively watching Mary Lou on the talk show circuit and reading articles about her in my room, where her Wheaties box stood as a proud tribute to her beauty. I even bought the Mary Lou Retton Workout album. Pathetic, I know, but I was going through a rough time, alright, so BACK OFF!

I needed a Mary Lou in my life back then. The glimmer of hope that she embodied saved an otherwise miserable summer. In the midst of unfamiliarity and uncertainty, she represented the goodness and beauty that life had to offer. She made everything feel OK and the world seemed like a better place once I knew there was a Mary Lou in it. Plus, she had such a cute little ass.

Fast forward to Summer 2000, a dismal season that left me nostalgic for the innocent harmless misery of 1984. To make an excruciatingly long story short, I went through your typical breakup. Boy A meets Girl at work. Boy A starts dating Girl, and after a few months, they end up in love and all is peachy. Enter Boy B, who also works in office and broke up with Girl long before, and now decides he actually loves Girl and wants Girl back. Girl wants no part of Boy B because Boy A and Girl are still peachy. Boy A decides it’s best for their relationship if he leaves his job, and shortly thereafter, Boy B suddenly proposes to Girl. Girl’s first instinct is to laugh at this gesture but later that week she thinks better of it and suddenly dumps Boy A. Less than a month later, Boy B and Girl are living together and engaged. Boy A is alone, confused, and unemployed. Same old story.

colleen3.jpgIf I lost you, I’m sorry. I was Boy A, the one you’d rather not be. But I didn’t drag you through that so you’d pity me. (Though you should, dammit.) Rather, I did so to give you some idea of the crappy shape I was in at the time. Granted, in the big picture it wasn’t a big deal and I still had my health. But in the midst of these apparent crises, why think about your health when you could just as easily smoke lots of cigarettes, listen to every Dylan album 18 hundred times and drive everyone around you crazy? Which I did. Until Colleen. Sweet, sweet Colleen.

I’m not sure which Survivor episode sparked my infatuation with Colleen, or even where the initial attraction lied. Lyed. Layed. It may have been her salty moppy bedhead or it may have been her squinty stoner eyes. It may have been the lazy, melodic drawl with which she slurred her phrases or it may have been her lesion and maggot-infested legs. Actually it probably wasn’t the lesion and maggot-infested legs. They were pretty nasty.

Week after week, my friends and I gathered to watch Survivor and it was all I could do to conceal my joy every time Colleen took the screen. Whenever she spoke, I found myself grinning like a smitten schoolgirl, fully aware of how ridiculous and juvenille my attraction was. But I couldn’t help it. I’d play out hypothetical scenarios in my mind where I’d bump into Colleen on the street, and I’d try to imagine what I’d say-what lame shticky line I could use to leave her laughing that silly, happy little giggle. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To make my little island monkey princess laugh?

In the event that such an encounter were to take place, it could only lead to good things. I mean, we were perfect for each other. When Tricky Dicky Hatch asked Colleen what made her happy, her answer was, “Irony.” Irony? My God, Colleen, how ironic! Irony makes me happy too! In fact I love irony! Maybe some day Colleen and I could sit in front of a campfire and smoke a joint while listening to the Cars and discussing irony. Can you imagine? I could tell her all about Girl leaving Boy A to marry Boy B and we would laugh endlessly! That gruesome tale was choc-full-o’ irony, not the least of which was the fact that they’d set the wedding date for Boy A’s birthday! My fucking birthday, Colleen, are you catching the irony in this?!?! Oh, it would be just perfect! Perfect, perfect, perfect!

(By the way, I know that’s probably not a clear-cut case of irony, but I think you’d have to admit that it’s pretty twisted all the same, and whatever it is, it lives in the same zip code as irony. And if anyone’s wondering why The Cars, Colleen picked the Cars Greatest Hits as her Number One Desert Island Disc on VH1’s The List. Boogie Nights Soundtrack was Number Two and Barry White’s Greatest Hits Number Three. How pathetic am I? Celebrity Dude of the Issue Column or Desperate Cry For Help? You make the call.)

Anyway, such fantasies are the beauty of reality-based television. While the aforementioned scenario isn’t likely, it’s not THAT big of a stretch. I mean stranger things happen all the time. Compare it to a run-in on the same street with sitcom actress Jenna Elfman. Because Jenna Elfman is Dharma-ooooooooh, Dhaaaaarma–I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’m sure Dharma would consider herself leagues above a meager citizen such as myself. But you can approach a reality-based TV personality. And in the event that they accept your proposition, you can still feel some degree of upgraded social status for having snagged a quasi-celeb.

Jesus, what am I writing about? Welcome to Dude’s first official train wreck.

As you can probably tell, I’m no stranger to reality-based television and I realize that through manipulative editing, Colleen could easily have been molded into the audience-friendly, ratings-boosting America’s Sweetheart role. But you can’t edit such a cute little ass and you can’t edit genuine goodness. After Colleen won a barbecued feast during a luxury challenge, Survivor Hobst with the Mobst Jeff Probst informed her she could share the meal with–and at that exact point, if you looked closely, you could see the purest joy and excitement as Colleen exclaimed, “EVERYONE!”..followed by an equally pure moment of disappointment and heartbreak as Jeff completed his sentence with “ other person.”

It was truly a beautiful and selfless moment. And again, I know it’s pathetic, but I was going through an even rougher time, alright? BACK THE FUCK OFF!


Colleen eventually took the Walk of Shame off the island and out of my life, but before she went away, she smiled and whispered, “Be nice to each other. Play fair.” That would be the last we’d see of Colleen, aside from her cameo appearances on the Tribal Council jury where she’d sit red-eyed and hungry with the rest of Pagong, trying their darndest to appear to give a shit after a trying day of bong hits and jungle-sexing. Damn you, Greg Buis, damn you! If I were to see you on the street and you were dying of thirst, I would not give you a drop of water, but rather�ah, whatever.

When Survivor finally ended, a big part of me felt dirty, cheap, and defeated. Machiadickhead won by being the biggest asshole in a game that demanded the use of those attributes which make one an asshole. Essentially, being the ultimate Survivor demanded being the ultimate Asshole. And he who proved himself to be the ultimate Asshole, having “played the game the best”, was rewarded with a million bucks. There’s a whole positive re-enforcement for negative behavior issue going on there that left me slightly confused.

colleen4.jpgThough not nearly as confused as I was upon learning that cute, grouchy, old men can say whatever the fuck they please about them queers and still land a commercial for Universal Studios.

Back in 1984, Mary Lou Retton didn’t rescue me from the terrors of 4th grade. While I didn’t get shat upon as anticipated, I did in fact get urinated on several times by Art Ramee. Such a nice boy. But my image of Mary Lou-the promise that people like her existed-was enough to sustain me as I waited for the piss to dry.

The new Survivor is now less than a week away. And though the emotional piss of last summer has dried, the stench still lingers. In the rare moments when it’s especially strong, I think of Colleen Haskell and find comfort in her goodness.

When it comes down to it, life isn’t much different from Survivor. Assholes tend to win while those who play nice and fair tend to lose. But that didn’t change Colleen’s game plan. And even though playing nice and fair won’t win you a million dollars, it will win you good karma. Good karma and the Celebrity Good Dude of the Issue.


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  1. This is my favorite sentence

    “The way her form-fitting red, white, and blue leotard fitted her form. ”

    Oh yeah baby. I liked that too.

  2. I’d like to interview Ashlee for a story I’m working on about women who marry men who are really women.

    Also, that last picture of Colleen makes her look like Suzy Kolber, which means you’d have to fight off Broadway Joe himself just to sniff that ass.

    One final note: Mitch Gaylord rulez.

  3. I represent Tony Esposito. He is also interested in re-printing his old Dude articles here.

  4. your pethetic man like yeah colleen is cute but to mary a girl and love another 10 times more thats sad you need a life.

  5. I have to totally agree with you man. You are right to stock her, there is just something about that face and her body language that is some how radiantly hypnotic in a way that can’t be explained. She is definitely number one on my list.

  6. Wow, you are a faggot!!!

  7. An innocent crush on a forgotten quasi-celebrity is harmless enough, but this level of gush from a married man is pretty repulsive. No wonder Colleen left celebrity behind.

  8. This was a really good find on the internet. I had just watched “Animal”, and I went to see who the leading girl was.. yeap, this is just fabulous. Because, your speech and thoughts and typed words are so connected – it’s a great read, but the humour gets you too! We’re made of many experiences and feelings, new and done-again, but it’s always nice to hear of another’s, and.. well, keep on doing it friend.

  9. I would lick her bum nite and day!

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