‘94 WINTER OLYMPICS / LILLEHAMMER : Here Is One Person Willing to Throw Book at Tonya

Excerpts from my new insta-book, “On Frozen Pond: The Tonya Harding Story” (Random Violence House, $24.95), a piece of work in progress:

Chapter 17, Mom on Montel:

Well, Mom fainted today. She went lights out on “The Montel Williams Show,” which is an American TV program like, you know, Oprah Winfrey’s or Joan Rivers’, except with a guy.

Anyhow, Mom did a guest shot. Guess they wanted her to talk about me. About, you know, how she used to be mean to me and stuff. About my calling her the B-word on that tape those rats at “60 Minutes” found. About me and her goofy son-in-law Jeff and stuff.

Mom’s name is LaVona. Not to be confused with Leona, who was that hotel woman who went to jail, or Lorena, who was that woman who, well, you know.

I’m not sure what Montel asked Mom that made her pass out. They tell me she toppled over like that German fraulein who fell flat on her tutu at the Olympic pairs skating the other night. (Man, did you see that? Wide World of Chokes. But I’d still like to give her a hug.)

Maybe Montel Williams asked Mom a hard question. You should have worn one of my cool NO COMMENT shirts, Mom. Only guess they wouldn’t’ve paid you then, huh?

I’ll have to call Mom and see who else Montel had on. Maybe, like, Erik Estrada or an astrologer or figure-skating transvestites or stuff.

Chapter 18, My Bare Lady

Uh, oh. That goofy Gillooly sold a video of me.

I guess I popped my top one night while Jeff was holding the cam. He said, “Hey! Tonya Harding! You’ve just won the Winter Olympics! Where are you going?” And then I said, “I’m going to Disneyland!” And then I, you know, did my Snow White Goes to Hell dance for him.

That TV show “A Current Affair” got hold of it. I don’t know what they offered Jeff--knowing him, probably two packs of cigarettes to use in the slammer. Ha!

Anyhow, they showed me topless on TV. Thirty million people saw me standing there like I’m, I don’t know, Jessica Hahn or something. They, you know, digitally altered the film so you couldn’t really see me. I heard some L.A. Times guy over in Norway said later, “I wish somebody could digitally alter Tonya so we couldn’t see her!” (I’d still like to give him a hug.)

Then it got worse. Somebody gave me a copy of the London Sun, a so-called newspaper.

Three pictures of me! Topless! Front page! Like I’m, you know, Di or Fergie or somebody. With this huge headline: “Tonya Loves to Dance Around Naked!”

Totally weird. There’s like this smaller headline that says: “She Likes Flaunting a Great Body.” (Well, at least that part was nice.) And then this caption that reads: “Striptease! Tonya lets a breast slip out of her dress, and then bares both, wiggling them for the camera, before cavorting topless!” Cavorting!

I never cavorted in my life. (Well, OK, once, but my scores were 6.0, 5.9, 5.9 and 6.0.) And then there’s this “interview” with this guy from Oregon I know. His name is Mike Pliska. He’s the one who told them about my “flaunting a great body.” (Remind me to give him a hug.)

They spoke to guys I dated back in school! What next? Baby Tonya in her Pampers?!!!

Chapter 19, Norway, My Way

I flew to Norway today. Boy, you’d think they’d have a Portland-to-Oslo nonstop, but no!

Guess I missed Hillary Clinton. Maybe when I win the gold medal, she’ll invite me to the Rose Garden to meet with her and the First Husband and stuff.

Everybody else came to meet me. Mobs and mobs! Wish I still had that tubby bodyguard. Rats, I forgot my NO COMMENT shirt at home. And where’s my video cam when I need it? I’d like to digitally alter these media creeps, boy. Whip their butts.

Wish I’d said something funny. Or I should’ve sung something, like that old guy Sinatra: “And through it all, when there was doubt! I ate it up, and spit it out! The record shows! I took the blows! And did it . . . Norrrrr way!” Ha! That would’ve freaked ‘em.

That snotty Kerrigan didn’t meet my plane. What is it with her, anyway? She’s so standoffish!

(Maybe tomorrow at practice I can give her that hug.)

Well, I hope things go well. Gonna keep to myself, unless maybe I get a call from Montel Jorgensen or Oprah Swenson or Norwegis & Kathie Lee or one of these TV shows over here.

I’m here, Mom! Top of the world!

OK, OK, gotta go sharpen my skates. Out of my way, you photographers! Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirts on.

To be continued.