Posted by: theboyfromsmallville | February 9, 2007

Sleep well, bombshell

SHE didn’t even need to write an autobiography.

After all, the only thing Anna Nicole Smith bared more often than the curves that defined the breasts that almost defined her persona was her sordid life details. It won’t take a genius of a researcher to put together the highlights of how she lived.

Anyone with the patience to sift through back issues of scandal-heavy, sleazy tabloids can come up with an exhaustive narrative of the life of one of the entertainment world’s most followed pop icons.

And it’s not going to be a flattering narrative by all accounts.

Dead at 39 of circumstances so mysterious that media outfits have started to prematurely compare her death to that of fellow screen vamp Marilyn Monroe, Anna Nicole Smith was perpetually vilified by rumormongers who tried to pigeonhole her into the dumb blonde stereotype for no other reason than, well, that their flashbulb-fried brains couldn’t think of more imaginative ways to crucify her.

For all we know, though, she was just a warrior who fought with whatever she had on her because she was faced with an uphill climb right from day one.

Or maybe it’s just me.

I do, quite admittedly, have a soft spot for the misunderstood. For those who dared to stand up amid public scrutiny and have the world throw rotten tomatoes at them and still hold a chin high at the thought that they’re doing no one any harm.

Did she deserve everything written about her?

Was she just a bimbo plain and simple?

It is easy to conjure the most controversial reasons to pin the blame of her death on. Because her eldest son died of drug overdose, maybe Anna Nicole Smith suffered the same fate, too. Or maybe the implants surgically sewn into her body to fine-tune her curves and other assets leaked, spilling toxic chemicals into her system.

Oh yeah, it’s going to be a field day until autopsy reports reveal the cause of death. This early, it is being attributed to poisoning, so say doctors who took an initial look at her body.

Go ahead, join the circus and say the silicone implants popped.

it’s easy to forget about the girl whose parents split up while she was young, who got married to a 16-year-old at 17, had her first child right about then, dropped out of school and had to work as a waitress at an age when girls are supposed to be leafing through entertainment magazines and giggling while trying out the latest fashion style in some air-conditioned mall boutique.

Forget the person every girl secretly dreamed of being—the one whose pouting lips, smoky gaze and curvaceous hips sent Guess jeans skyrocketing in sales and paved the way for an advertising theme the clothing outfit continues to buy polished magazine pages for.

It is easy to remember only the Anna Nicole Smith who posed for Playboy. The one who couldn’t act sexy even with her cleavage filling up the screen in Naked Gun. The one who couldn’t mutter an intelligent line even if you held a shotgun to her face. The one who slurred a lot in her own reality show, fanning suspicions of drug and alcohol abuse.

Remember the Anna Nicole Smith who married 89-year-old oil tycoon J. Howard Marshall II, owner of Great Northern Oil Co., someone who was worth half a billion dollars when he died. That, you aren’t apt to forget right? After all, this was the one person who, as what seems apparent, stuck to the shortcut-to-wealth routine of marrying someone with a lot of money and little mileage left in life.

Look at it this way: How many of you out there have the guts to do something like that?

Crucify her for that?

Tell the world that she deserved every legal battle she faced from Marshall’s family, which wanted to thwart her supposedly evil designs?

Sure. She’s nothing but a money-grubbing, social-climbing bitch.

Then again, maybe it’s so easy to vilify her because we didn’t sit beside the young Anna Nicole Smith one fatherless Texan afternoon as she looked outside the window of her normalcy-deprived house and into a cloudless sky telling herself that the world must have something better out there for her.

Maybe we should have lain down beside her during her teenage years, not just to run our hands through silk-skinned curves and satisfy the deep craving in our loins but to listen to her cry, watch her pull the edges of herself into a tight curl and wait for her to drift to sleep, wondering what dreams she retreats to when the night comes and the darkness gives her the freedom to subliminally create her own alternate reality.

Then again, maybe she’s a plain and simple slut and this is just me, romanticizing the notion that she is one of the most misunderstood figures of our time.

But there is a tragedy in the death of Anna Nicole Smith. More than just the possibility of Elton John belting out a third version of Candle in the Wind.

And it takes those who go to bed at night sleeping the sleep of the troubled to catch a drift of the sadness of her passing.

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Responses

  1. yo dude.

    pag namatay ako ikaw na gagawa ng obit ko ah. (oo bombshell-level girl needs bombshell-level obituarist. what a term.)

  2. Hehehehe…
    Bagong career ko.
    Obituarist.

  3. ako din gawan mo rin pls pag namatay ako.. hehe ;p

  4. Shet…
    Puwede na ako mag retire dito sa Inq.
    I haf a nu karir.
    Asteeeeeg.
    Obituarist. The Obituarist.
    I like the sound of that.

    Paano umpisa Mitz?

    She made her own rules.
    Whether they were the ones for dating (Don’t push the redial button if he doesn’t pick up), or the rules that govern her fasion sense (you can see her in anything, just don’t catch her in her yaya-inspired school uniform)…

    Hehehehe.
    Peace, dude.

  5. hahaha! you got me there ;)

    oh, those booty-call protocols weren’t made up by yours truly.. that was a copied & pasted piece from cosmo.. now, the “yaya-inspired school uniform” is a totally different story.. lolz..

    wuyy, pano yan? you’ll have to wait til we die para mag boom yung career mo.. hindi din nman kc xa that useful kun buhay pa ‘ko.. hehehe..

    [pls forgive me for my attempt at using tagalog..Ü]

  6. you’ll have to wait til we die para mag boom yung career mo

    In the meantime, mabubuhay ako sa mga referrals niyo.
    Hehehehehe.

    Para shang TV series no? The Obituarist. (Kate, I like the sound of it, really)

    Re: Tagalog attempts…
    Don’t worry. I still understand and speak little of the dialect. I forgot to mention, I was born here.

    My family, or whatever remains of it, on the other hand, still lives in Cebu. Mandaue. Near the famous cockpit.

    I, too, stumble at Tagalog. :-)

  7. oww :)


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