“For the first time in months, I am excited to read the latest news in women’s tennis,” tour reporter James Martin gushed two weeks ago. “That’s women’s tennis. It’s no secret that the WTA {Women’s Tennis Association} Tour is coming off a rough season. Aside from the triumphant return of Kim Clijsters to win the U.S. Open {the first mother to win a major title  in nearly 30 years!}, 2009 was marred by mediocre tennis and little to talk about. But with the return of former World No. 1 Justine Henin this week in Brisbane, Australia, we could be on the verge of a new era.” Make that vage …

Clijsters and Henin were both born in Belgium—just one year and one week apart … and shocked the tennis world by abruptly retiring—again, a year and a week apart: Kim on May 7, 2007, followed by Justine on May 14, 2008.  And they also returned to the sport a year apart—with Clijsters edging Henin in an epic three set tiebreaker final of the Brisbane International Tournament earlier this month. “Huh, what a match!” Kim cooed after they met at the net following Justine’s first event in 20 months! “I don’t think anybody, not even in Belgium, anywhere in the world, expected this would ever happen again! I think we set the bar pretty high for ourselves. It’s nice to be a part of this.” But it’s a particular “part” that we’ve seen fit to focus on … and we’ve set the bar pretty low.

Based on a classic New Yorker cartoon, a 1969 comedy movie about whirlwind European vacations declared: If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium … and with this dynamic duo, it “seams” that the national flower of their “moist native land” is two lips {Justine’s being so prominent you can see her Brussels Sprout}! “The Belgian pair grew up playing together,” ESPN.com comments, “Clijsters saying they shared rooms while traveling for under-12 tournaments {getting their licks in on opposite ends}, winning the Federation Cup as teammates and then becoming friendly rivals, before eventually going down separate paths.” But there’s clearly one “path” they still share … with everyone!

“You can always count on Justine Henin for a classic camel toe!,” mused one prominent sports blog. “Sometimes her panties seem to be parted down the middle.” For those new to the expression, “camel toe” comes from the clearly defined delineation of a dromedary’s digits … or in today’s slang, a damsel in dis•dress! Kim is more coy—preferring to proffer a “back toe” while serving up a winner! Few can match Henin’s trademark “in your face” {we wish!} vertical wedgie … aka veggie … yet Kim trumped her “ace” by actually showing  “beaver cleavage” … aka “beavage” … with her meat curtains clearly visible—especially in closeup through her sheer scanties!

Ironically, one of the more popular euphemisms for camel toe appears to be “crotch waffle” … and what country could be more associated with mouth-watering waffles than Belgium! Amazingly, the “most common type available in Belgium,” according to Wikipedia, is “The Liege Waffle,” from the eastern city of Liege—birthplace of … you guessed it … Justine Henin! And wouldn’t you know, the Liege Waffle is described by Wiki as “a richer, denser,  sweeter, chewier waffle”—just like juicy Justine’s moist mons! Why, it even “features chunks of pearl sugar!” And clearly Clijsters {a name that evokes endless anatomic anagrams} is well defined by her prominent cleft!

Lest we forget the upper regions of the ladies and their beloved Belgium—which is, after all, located at the North West tip of Europe—let us conclude with a pair of rare Sleuthian finds:  flatchested Justine spied topless on the beach, while full-figured Kim reclines in the sand and declines her bikini top! So we leave you with this advice for all tennis buffs: If you can’t speak Belgian, try reading lips …

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MARILYN MONROE would have been 83 this past Monday, June 1…and we don’t wish to blow it by merely paying lip service to the Greatest Sex Symbol in Hollywood History! {Guess whose picture appears on Wikipedia under “Sex Symbol”?}

Her early years were shrouded in mystery, but in case you doubt the date, Sleuth has unearthed a copy of the actual birth certificate of “Baby Norma Jeane Mortensen”…and even the original microfiche from which it was made! Not to mention a Department of Health Certificate verifying its accuracy. And since Sleuth is all about accuracy, let’s specify that she was born at 9:30 a.m. on June 1, 1926 in the charity ward of Los Angeles Hospital, as this detailed natal chart she had done later, attests.

And while Edward Mortenson’s name is listed as her father on the birth certificate, Marilyn’s sire was almost certainly womanizing Charles Stanley Gifford, who had an affair with her lookalike mother Gladys Pearl Monroe, when they worked together as film cutters at RKO Studios in 1925. This family genealogy chart seems to seal the deal. Sleuth has learned that Gladys had married a Martin Mortensen in 1924, but they separated before she became pregnant…so the scared 23-year-old named the father as Edward Mortensen, with residence listed as “Unknown” on the birth record—hoping to avoid the “stigma of illegitimacy” for her daughter. To further cover her tracks, Gladys listed her last name as “Monroe” {her middle moniker and the source for Norma Jeane’s future nom de vroom} and the occupation of the fictional father as “Baker.”

But when the child was old enough, Marilyn recalled being shown this photo that Gladys identified as her “real father”—the cad who had deserted his lover on Christmas Eve 1925 when she told him she was pregnant! Gifford—whose wife Lillian charged him with “addiction to narcotics, abuse and associating with women of low character” in her divorce petition—had a pencil-thin mustache that reminded young Norma Jeane of then-heartthrob Clark Gable, and she thus carried the picture with her throughout her life! Near her death, she reportedly fell in love with “father figure” Gable—blatantly trying to “seduce him” by secretly going au naturel under the covers (though nudity couldn’t be shown in 1960) and then letting the sheet slip while making The Misfits, her final finished film!

Her very first nude, however, came when her troubled mom left her with a foster family just  two weeks after her birth … and, as the song goes, she “musta been a beautiful baby cuz baby look at you” then! Her second nude was taken as she played in front of the foster home of Ida and Wayne Bolender, where she spent the first 7 years of her life. And she only got more beautiful as she grew: check out this photo booth snap taken when she was just twelve! Just two years later, she was already unsurpassed.

Everyone knows her iconic images, so Sleuth prefers to include a few of the rare “firsts” from his mountain•ous Marilyn files, such as: her first ever glamour pose at age 18 in 1945; her first ever magazine cover for the airplane factory at which she was discovered, in 1946; her first ever billboard for Pabst beer; her first parking pass for the 20th Century Fox studio lot; her first starlet publicity shot; and her first national ad … for photo mounts! But what about, I hear you say, her first pubic mound?

“Throughout recorded history,” reads one review of The Seven Year Itch, “certain images and people become entrenched in the public consciousness. In 1955, wearing a dress {Sleuth even has the wardrobe test for the garment!} and standing over a subway grate, Marilyn Monroe became a sex symbol like no other. The dress flitting about in the breeze while she futilely tries to hold it in place became an image that was sought after as the very definition of sexuality. Yet, in the film quick cuts and angles stop you from actually seeing anything too revealing.” Yet they don’t stop Sleuth…

As an eyewitness to the legendary shoot in the early hours of  September 15, 1954 put it: “About 1,500 stay-up-late New Yorkers formed an audience—very appreciative, too—as the synthetic breeze unveiled the Monroe legs and nylon whatchamacallits.” What it gets called is many things…but, in this rare outtake, bountiful bush would seem to fit! “Here comes the wind machine,” recalled one lucky observer, “up goes the skirt and damned if she isn’t wearing something filmy. From back of me I hear a voice, pure New York, saying loud and clear, ‘Chees, I thought she was a real blonde!’”

The observer, a Mr. Morse, continued: “Her husband Joe DiMaggio hears it too, and this is his wife! He walks on the set, sorer than hell, and makes Marilyn go into the trailer and change into some underpants that you couldn’t see through with a spotlight” {actually two pairs}! The Yankee Clipper then stormed off the set, with what the film’s impish director Billy Wilder later called “the look of death” on his face. And when a 52-foot billboard of a mild image from the scene was erected over the theater for its opening night on Marilyn’s 29th BIRTHDAY, their marriage was dead. So, it’s only fitting that we present this one-of-a-kind rarity in its Digital Age fully expanded equivalent of her Times Square triumph! No wonder a young stringer on the scene that day recently remarked: “I hate the term ‘photo-op,’ but this was certainly the most important photo-op ever staged, notwithstanding George W. Bush landing on a battleship”—with similar, though much more padded, crotch focus.

“Do you wear underwear?” the sexy starlet was asked shortly after her nude calendar surfaced. “Men seldom jump hurdles,” MM mused, “for girls who wear girdles.” Which might explain why her next national calendar pose—for which Sleuth unearthed the original insert—was entitled “Southern Exposure“! Or that her favorite fur—a fetish inherited from her mom—was Beaver. Only when she married esteemed playwright Arthur Miller, in fact, did Marilyn finally decide to “Wear the Pants.”

Now she belongs to the Angels—amazingly, Sleuth snapped these glowing halos of light circling above her crypt when he paid homage in 1993—so let us fondly remember not only her current birthday but also her final one, on the set of the unfinished Something’s Got to Give in 1962, just days after filming her only screen nude scene {to which the cast’s card refers}. And what a fitting END it makes …

So Goodbye, Norma Jeane … and Happy 83rd Birthday {a good guess how she’d look today}! You were truly, and uniquely, A Candle in the Wind.

Cheers!, my dear. Dots all she wrote…

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