Thursday, January 03, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Kumari Fulbright
Name: Kumari Fulbright
DOB: sometime in 1982
Occupation: failed beauty queen, future waterboarding pro at Gitmo, if they didn't drug test to be a CIA torturer, anyway
Hometown: somewhere in Arizona
Current residence: JAIL, somewhere in Pima County, Arizona
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Kumari, like many beauty queens, represents something all young women should aspire to be. Her stints as Miss Pima County (2005) and Miss Desert Sun (2006) both led to middle-placing appearances in the Miss Arizona pageant. When the beauty queen route didn't pay off, she went to law school and got a job clerking for some district judge in Arizona. Plus, she looks like she could be one of those hot lipstick lesbo Terminators from T3: Rise of the Machines when she's rocking her automatic weapon in a bikini. However, that is where this happy story ends.
At some point in her rise to success, Kumari lost her way and fell in with a bad crowd. She and her gang of thugs decided to kidnap her boyfriend, steal $600 from him, and torture him with biting, beating, threatening to cut off his ear a la Reservoir Dogs, and pointing a gun at him. After 10 hours of this, the boyfriend wrassled her gun away from her and escaped, and got Kumari arrested. Unfortunately, the year since she's been off the pageant circuit has not treated her well, because behold her mugshot. Try not to be terribly surprised that she didn't smote the Miss Arizona pageant's ruin on the mountainside.
Back when I lived in Tacompton, I was fucking this guy for all of five minutes whose aunt was a major tweaker. I didn't know this until our last tryst, in which he wanted to take me to his place in South Tacoma because we always did the deed at my crib. So I drove us there, and was more than a little nervous about leaving my car parked in a most unsavory neighborhood. When we got into this place, I grew even more nervous because his aunt, who was both in desperate need of a root touch-up with her Clairol Maxi-Blonde and a fill on her SERIOUSLY busted acrylics, was all over the place. She was jabbering so fast I couldn't make out what she was saying except that she wanted the guy to watch her son (he agreed), she wanted to borrow $10 from either of us (neither of us agreed), and she was going out to the shed for a few minutes. Her son, who was ten, was a sweet, sad little kid and the guy and I spent most of the time advising him on how to handle bullies at school who were saying bad things about his mom. My heart was breaking, and between the obvious meth-addled aunt and the kid's sad, sad stories, I was very much not in the mood for hot sex. Then the guy put the kid to bed and we proceeded to get down on his bed in the living room, but my heart just wasn't into it. The entire situation really depressed me. I decided that this was not a relationship that was going anywhere, so when we finished, I immediately started getting dressed.
"Don't you want to hang around for a while? I was hoping I could buy you breakfast tomorrow," he pleaded. This guy really liked me, and after getting a gander at his home life, I realized that this was probably because as a college-educated woman with a nice house and a respectable job that came with my own phone extension and my own business cards and my own monogrammed lab coat, I was a monumental departure from the types of scary tweaker ex-cons he was used to banging. He was cute, and he had a pretty decent-sized weiner, but I realized what he had long before: that I was light-years out of his league and I wanted nothing to do with his extremely problematic scene.
"Sorry, I have some things to do. I, uh, had fun, though. Take care."
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said.
"You know," I said. "I'm really busy tomorrow. And I like you, but I just don't think this is going to go anywhere. I just think we're too different. I'm sorry."
He looked depressed. "Okay," he sighed. "Me too. I'm sorry too."
"It's okay. Take care of yourself, okay?" I said, trying to be as kind as possible. He wasn't into meth as far as I could tell, and he was a nice guy, and I did feel bad, but I wasn't into him anymore.
As I walked out, dawn was approaching, and in the gray half-light, I spotted the shed where his aunt had just run out to for a minute...four hours before. As I walked past to the alley where my car was parked (and, thankfully, unmolested), I could hear his aunt and at least two other voices chattering away at top speed. I also could smell some horrible acrid smell that I'm certain was the smell of meth smoke (having never smoked meth myself, I am unfamiliar with its smell, but I imagine it smells something like a lab chemical fire).
It saddens me that a hot piece like Kumari tumbled so far into that kind of depressing, miserable desperation, because I would have hit that like what when she was still a well-groomed beauty queen. That said, however, if she combed out her hair and got clean, I might let her take a ride on the strap-on if only because psycho bitches are the hottest lays. It would be a one-time thing, though, since I have no intention of being kidnapped, robbed, or otherwise tortured. Then again, judging by her mug shot, I think the possibility of her even meeting my basic requirements for a solitary lesbian rendezvous in a bar ladies' room is assuredly remote. It's more likely that the next time she makes an appearance for the local Pima County jail photographer, she'll be absent more than a couple teeth. Too, too bad. Such a waste.
Labels: beauty queens, crime and punishment, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, oh the horror, sluts
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