I blame Skyfall. Something about Daniel Craig looking utterly delicious in that tuxedo (he’s going to be my ex-husband someday, just wait and see), the darkly mysterious Severine flirting over $1000 chips and martinis (shaken, not stirred), the thrilling play of luck and chance. Intoxicating, right? That’s why, after not having set foot in a casino for a few years, I’m suddenly itching to throw on a backless gown, sling down a few dirty martinis, and throw caution to the wind in pursuit of fortune and glamour.
Except that I don’t wear backless gowns. Let’s be real: no one wants to see that. And I don’t drink dirty martinis; I prefer frou-frou drinks with umbrellas in them, and the taste of olives makes me want to hurl. Even if I did, the casino I usually go to doesn’t allow alcohol. Somehow the whole experience seems a little less glamorous when you’re wearing a Walmart hoodie and swigging half-flat Mello Yello out of a paraffin-coated paper cup. And there isn’t a whole lot of glamour involved when you’re crying into your chili cheese fries after losing your last dollar in an Alien vs. Predator penny slot. I’d have much more fun throwing $10 into an Oscar betting pool (I ALWAYS lose; apparently the “Academy” and I have very different ideas of quality cinema) or playing a few Cheekybingo cards online – if they ever decide to replace their cartoon bingo-ball mascot with a legit real-life spokesmodel, I am so there! I would rock the shit out of that purple ‘do! But I digress…
I’m not sure why Bond Girls and casinos are so tightly intertwined in my mind, except that casinos do play a big role in the entire 007 mythos. But my typical casino experience isn’t very Bond-ish. I have never played roulette, though I do occasionally like to play a few spins on the pig wheel at Playmaker’s. Roxy is my favorite, though I’ve had a modest amount of luck with Joe and Ken. If you’ve never played the pig wheel before, you probably have no idea what any of that meant, and I would explain it but frankly it’s really not all that interesting. Suffice it to say that there are pigs, it’s like roulette, and let the rest live in a world of shrouded mystery in your imagination. I don’t play poker because there are too many different kinds and way too many rules, and I rarely play blackjack because I am far too pretty to math. Even simple math. That and I always end up pissing off the douchebag at the end of the table who seems to have convinced himself that blackjack is a team sport. Sorry buddy, I don’t care about your “rules” or that the dealer is showing a queen: I don’t hit on 14. Ever. And I get 14 a lot.
No, my true love has always been a nice cheap slot. Usually a penny machine, though occasionally I’ll get a wild hair and throw a few dollars into one of the nickels; I’m crazy like that. I love the flashing lights and the sound effects and the spinning reels; I basically devolve into a monkey with an ATM card. I don’t even care all that much about winning (though I wouldn’t turn up my nose at a nice hefty jackpot – are you listening gambling gods??) but I like to at least get some quality playing time. I usually only bring about $50 or so with me, and I don’t mind losing most or all of it as long as I get at least a couple solid hours of reel-spinning before slinking off to the cafe to get a bowl of ice cream and reflect on my poor life choices.
So what does this have to do with my crazy dream of being a Bond Girl? Nothing. Or at least, not much. It’s just that for me, being a Bond Girl is sort of like a really good day at the casino: it’s exciting and thrilling, and even though it’s fleeting you get to feel like you beat the odds, at least for today. It’s glamorous and a little tacky at the same time, like gorgeous women running around with names like Holly Goodhead, Christmas Jones, and the infamous Pussy Galore. Taken together, the Bond Girls represent multiple facets of femininity, positive and negative: naive, vulnerable, sexy, sly, cunning, sexual, passionate, fierce. They are women living in the masculine world of espionage and guns and Astin Martins, finding their own ways to be powerful. There are often sacrifices required to grab that power, and many of them are severely punished, but they struggle nonetheless. It’s all very Foucauldian.
So sign me up to join that pantheon of cheesy action movie goddesses as the first plus-sized drag queen glamazon Bond Girl. In fact, Glamazon might be the perfect name for my character. Or Pussy N’More. Or Mangina. Whatever; we can work out all the details later. Let’s just seal the deal quickly, before Daniel Craig’s contract runs out. They already killed off Judy Dench, my favorite part of the modern Bond films! The chance that the next 007 might not be as hot as Daniel Craig? Those are odds I’m just not willing to play.
Tags: 007, blackjack, Bond Films, Bond Girl, Casinos, Cheekybingo, Cheekybingo.com, Christmas Jones, Foucauldian, Foucault, gambling, Holly Goodhead, James Bond, James Bond 007, Janessa, Janessa J, Janessa J Champagne, Janessa Jaye, Janessa Jaye Champagne, pig wheel, poker, Pussy Galore, roulette, Severine, Skyfall, slot machines