Keep Your Panties On, Darva!

Keep Your Panties On, Darva!
by Lisa Woerly

It's time for Darva Conger to stop blindly perpetuating herself as America's Most Foolish Woman. I thought that we had finally gotten her to stop whining about how her life has been ruined because of the Who Wants to Marry a Mulitmillionaire "scandal," but it seems that I was sorely mistaken. Now she's about to unveil her unmentionables in Playboy.

I smell another scandal.

Here's a woman who said she went on the show on a whim and that it made her sick to her stomach when Rick Rockwell chose her as his bride on Who Wants to Marry a Multimillionaire? Like an old Wham! cassette set on continuous replay behind a locked door, Darva screeched again and again and again that she saw the whole thing as a "job." She was fitted for an ugly wedding dress, participated in all of the show's rehearsals, and showed up with the other 49 contestants for the night of the actual broadcast. Then--Surprise!--Rick Rockwell chose her as the woman he wanted to marry (obviously not all the bulbs light up in that house either). Trembling, upset, and physically ill (so Darva claimed in each subsequent interview, making her physical condition sound just a little bit worse with each telling), she married him live on national television and thus honored her perceived "job contract."

That's her prerogative. More power to her. America gives its citizens, even the peroxided imbecile ones, the right to marry anyone who comes their way. So, marry a millionaire who's an utter stranger to you on national television and then watch the media flies come swarming.

But the media flies didn't come swarming; instead, Darva went after them full throttle to tell her side of the story once she started receiving slack for what she had done. Please. This woman managed to suck the media juices dry and she appeared on every tabloid and morning show that would consent to allowing her in their studio. She even went on Larry King Live just days after her brother died. Now this is a woman who values her privacy, respects the institution of marriage, and loves her family.

Darva has proven herself to be vapid, whiny, self-centered, and about ten bricks shy of a full load. To think that she was a nurse before all this hoopla began is truly frightening. I had a great aunt who was a pediatric nurse, and she would hold nonsequential conversations with herself all the time and would even occasionally fling her arms up in the air as if she were shooing flies. Most disconcerting. I never let her come within twenty feet of me while I was growing up.

Darva reminds me of my nutty great aunt. I'd be like a deer caught in headlights if she came near me with a tongue depressor. There's just a little something off course at work there.

For several weeks, I couldn't watch an entire Entertainment Tonight nightly broadcast without seeing Darva getting kicked out of Oscar parties or hanging out at the Playboy mansion. She acted all coy and secretive when reporters would ask her why she was at the Playboy mansion and if she was planning to pose for Playboy. Was that her idea of teasing the public? Like playing with poor Rick's emotions wasn't teaser enough.

If I had the body, I'd be camping out on Playboy's front lawn too. I have no problems with nudity, and I wholly support a woman's decision to pose for magazines like Playboy. But I do have a problem with Darva crying foul when her life turned topsy-turvy over a situation that she created, and then she had the gall to chase after even more media exposure by agreeing to end up with a staple in her bellybutton in the pages of Playboy.

I hope Hugh Hefner sends Rick Rockwell a case of Playboys so he can finally get to see this woman in the buff.

And Darva, now that you've truly achieved infamy, please go away (and put your panties back on while you're at it).

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