I spent the better part of last June gluing rhinestones to this one wall in my apartment. At some point during the second week I started wearing a toolbelt full of E6000 glue, wadded up paper towels, sparkly bits and the syringes I use to control where the glue goes. I should mention that the toolbelt was being worn instead of pants as opposed to on top of pants. I should also mention that my apartment has horrible ventilation and I was probably kind of high on glue fumes. The glue fumes may have contributed to my decision to climb the radiator instead of using a ladder.
On the night of the 14th there was a knock on my door. The only person who knocks on the inside door is my superintendent. His name is Jorge. I yelled “Come in” and then realized that he might be upset about the fact that I was sticking things to the wall with heavy-duty glue. Fortunately, Jorge is a very special creature. He took in the whole spectacle, exclaimed “Oh my god!” and proceeded to gush in his Puerto Rican-Brooklynite accent about how much he loved where I was going with the concept. Then he ran upstairs and came back with a giant box of “Sarchovskys? Warsovskys? Whatevah. I thought you might be able to use them for your project.” See, at some point in the past decade someone had left a giant box of Swarovski crystals at his apartment. Happy Birthday to me. No, seriously. The next day was my birthday.
A few months later someone showed me this Saturday Night Live skit. They thought I might be entertained. The first 55 seconds were hilarious because of my awesome memory of Jorge and his Warsovskys. It stopped being funny shortly after I realized that the two women were supposed to be former porn stars. See, their former porn star caricatures aren’t nearly as funny as our former and current porn stars can be.
Like every industry, pornography employs a range of people. Some of them are very intelligent, some are wicked street smart, some are incredibly talented at things that have nothing to do with sex. Most are talented at things that do have something to do with sex. Because of this range, there are absolutely a few women (and men) who work as performers in the adult industry and fit every unfortunate part of the dippy porn star stereotype. Generally their antics are far more entertaining than anything shown in the Swarovski skit, or the Moet & Chandon and Hermes ones that followed. For instance, this one girl told me a story about how she left her cell phone in a strange man’s car by accident. When he returned it to her the following morning he also gave her a small gift wrapped box. What was in the box? We will never know, because she threw it away. She was offended by the small size of the package. I mean, it’s not like jewelry comes in tiny little boxes or anything…
Or the girl who lost her shoes going through airport security. A few minutes and many tears later, they were found. On her feet. Or the time that same girl called in a panic because she was supposed to meet us in Berlin but the people on her plane kept talking about going to Germany. The point here is that even the very few performers in the adult industry who actually are barely functional loons exhibit more anecdotal variety and depth of character than the Swarovski Crystals girls do. This variety and depth of character is probably due to the fact that they are actual human beings. It’s probably a little unfair to expect writers to develop whole personalities for multiple characters in four minutes or less, but SNL could have done better than the lowest common denominator.