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	<title>Salon.com > Lisa Palac</title>
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		<title>Austin&#8217;s powers</title>
		<link>http://www.salon.com/1999/06/11/powers_2/</link>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 11 Jun 1999 16:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Arts]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[All Salon]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Falling in and out of love with the International Man of Mystery.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><b>I</b>t happened when I least expected it, long after the crowds had thinned out -- but isn't that always how it goes with romantic obsessions? "Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery" had been out on video for over a year by the time I finally saw it.</p><p>From the moment I first set eyes on his Beatle boots and blue-striped suit, I felt our connection. Austin Powers and I had the same couture aesthetic, the same crazy dance moves, the same overwhelming desire to be both a slutty sex object and gracious subject. I loved the way he defeated those voluptuous Fembot assassins by blasting them with his bare mojo, as well as the sense of decency he displayed by not taking advantage of a drunk Agent Kensington. But the clincher was, of course, his vaguely heart-shaped chest hair, which was so silly and absurd and yet so ... erotic. I knew right then and there that I was hooked.</p><p>That evening I watched the film again, this time with my husband, Andrew.</p><p>"Look, honey! It's just like yours!" I said when we got to the Warm Liquid Goo phase where Austin's fur is first revealed.</p><p>"His chest hair is fake," he said flatly.</p><p><a href="http://www.salon.com/1999/06/11/powers_2/">Continue Reading...</a></p>]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>Longboard surfing women</title>
		<link>http://www.salon.com/1998/03/27/feature_190/</link>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 27 Mar 1998 20:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[All Salon]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[California]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Travel]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Lisa Palac explores the brave and benevolent new world of women&#039;s longboard surfing at a competition in Capitola, California.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><font size="-2">CAPITOLA, CALIF. -- </font> <font size="+1">"G</font>reen is up!"  It's a few minutes after 6 on a cold, clear winter Saturday morning and it's still pretty dark. But there's an orange glow on the eastern horizon, bright like a cosmic flare, and soon the sun will climb over the Santa Cruz Mountains and light up the Pacific Ocean.</p><p>"Black on a wave!" A young guy, suited up in neoprene and sitting on a surfboard in the water, is using what looks like an orange parking cone as a megaphone to shout out the identity of the contestants to the judges. Oops -- wipeout. Black off a wave.</p><p>It's hard to see exactly what's going on in the pre-dawn, but I know from looking at my schedule that it's the first 20-minute heat of the surfing contest, and that there are five young women, age 17 and under, in the icy water, each wearing a different colored nylon jersey over their wet suits and paddling for what little bumps of water come their way.  Things are off to a really flat start, but that's not unusual. Waves on the day of any given competition are typically mediocre -- nature does what she wants when she wants to -- and champion surfers  often get to be champions because they know how to shred in the smallest, crappiest conditions.</p><p><a href="http://www.salon.com/1998/03/27/feature_190/">Continue Reading...</a></p>]]></content:encoded>
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