Holidays!

I hope everyone had a merry Christmas.  I know I  did.  I won't be updating today or tomorrow because of a family emergency.

Mute Button

Thought of the day:

"The breast is nature's mute button."

-Caroline

The Christmas Party, Part 3

The Christmas Party Scenarios, Part 3

The Uncomfortable Clothing Christmas Party

The only thing you will remember about this Christmas party is how uncomfortable you were the entire time.  The quality of the part will be irrelevant.  These are the ones I most often frequent.  They are the parties of former colleagues of my parents and old, formerly close friends.  The party will involve some combination of or all of these things:

1. tree trimming

2. bringing an ornament to trim the tree with.  (Make sure you have no emotional attachment to it, because you will never see it again.  There was some trauma when I, young, stupid and not understanding what was going on, chose my favorite ornament, only to realize I was giving it away.)

3. condescending statements about how much I've grown (I do remarkable work with growth, given ten years).  Measurements of my former height, as demonstrated by hand gesture, will put me anywhere from chihuahua height to hobbit height.

4. amorphous, grey blobs passing as hors d'ouevres

5. singing Christmas carols

These parties have one, more salient association attached to them, however: the uncomfortable party dress.  It looks very nice and festive.  I have discovered that no dress deemed appropriate for the Uncomfortable Clothing Christmas Party is allowed to be without some irritance; thus the name.  The dress will be vaguely uncomfortable in varying degrees, and distracting.  The dress will be accompanied by the HIP (high in pain) shoes.  These are those adorable high heels that I just had to have.  They are meant for one thing: teetering from sitting place to sitting place; they are not intended for standing around a tree smiling while people marvel at my growth patterns.  The best part of my night will be in removing these shoes in the car.

Thus ends (at least for now) my analysis of the Christmas party scenarios.

technorati tags:Christmas, parties, clothing

The Christmas Party, Part 2

The Christmas Party Scenarios, Part Two

The Non-Christmas Party

a. You are invited to a friend's house.  There's supposedly some Christmas theme to separate it from the myriad other parties that you all attend together.  What will make this party a "Christmas party" is having spiked eggnog rather than spiked punch.  But you will still enjoy it.

b. You go to a Christmas party at the house of someone you barely know who is not your neighbor.  This category of person includes, but is not limited to, that guy you haven't talked to since the 7th grade and the girl from college whom you met twice and invited you solely because you're from the same geographic region.  With apprehension and a Whole Foods assorted cheeses tray you bought in a panic on the way over, thinking perhaps everyone else was bringing gifts, you enter.

Immediately the smell of Natty Light, various seasonal scents and smoke assaults your nose.  Your eyes sting from the smoke, which may or may not be be just from cigarettes.  You awkwardly enter and socialize with whomever is still able to stand and form words vaguely like English.  Even hand gestures and smiles will do.  Everyone is milling around or dancing, and the occasional person has shown her enthusiasm for the party by putting on pair of fuzzy reindeer ears or a Santa hat. 

You run into the host an hour and a half after you arrive, and yell over some techno remix of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" blasting dully in the background that you left the cheese on the table.  The conversation goes like this:

"Hi! I'm glad you came."

"Thanks for inviting me.  I brought assorted cheeses.  I left it on the dining room table."

Somebody turns up the bass on the stereo.

"YOU WHAT? BEES?"

"CHEESE!"

"WHAT?"

"CHEESE!"

"OKAY.  HAVE A GOOD TIME."

She has understood nothing of what you said, but doesn't care.  She will find the tray of assorted cheeses on the table in the morning and wonder what's going on.  You will have retreated home far before this happens.

Tomorrow: The Uncomfortable Clothing Christmas Party

technorati tags:Christmas, parties, college

The Christmas Party

The Christmas Party Scenarios, Part One

The Neighbor's Christmas Party

You don't really know these neighbors, and they don't really know you.  The only reason they're interested in your attending the Christmas party is one of two reasons: that you'd know if they invited everyone else and not you, and your dog has large poop that might mysteriously end up on their lawn.  The second reason is that they're interested in filling the house and not having leftover buffet food.  You will attend this party because, if you're not going to another party, the neighbors might be able to tell that you just didn't feel like going.  And there are some hazy, unknown consequences that we assume will result from this.  Also, you must assess their value as people by seeing what kind of food they provide.

At the party, you stay in a tight pack with your family, separating only to sample parts of the buffet or engage in conversation with other neighbors who've come for the same reason.  As the night progresses, you find yourself separated and socializing.  Even those who stand in the corner or sit in an overstuffed chair and try to keep their mouths full at all times to prevent conversation are sucked in by the blond, talkative woman who insists on meeting everyone she can find.

You drift through the night, not quite enjoying yourself, but not bored either.  Many people who are actually friends with the hosts walk over and try to engage you in conversation.  If you're a teenager, they assume not that you're someone they should know, but that you're the child of someone they should know.  How could we not have met the child of the (supposedly) dear friends of our host? These people will have infinitely disappointed looks when you reveal that you're simply the neighbor's surly teenager, not the friend-of-a-friend's surly teenager that they were hoping for.  They pretend to see another person they know (really just another friend of the host's whom they have yet to pick for information) and waltz off, rum and Coke in hand.

Monday: Part 2, The Non-Christmas Party

technorati tags:christmas, party, teen, neighbors

SCREAM

I don't know if I'll ever be able to enjoy movies ever again the same way.

The Wilhelm Scream

Watch the video. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever.

And apologies for my lack of updating this week. I've been busy recovering from my freshman fall and eating all the food I can during the reading week study breaks. When they said I'd have a freshman fifteen, I thought it would be a gradual gain, not acquired in a week.

technorati tags:movies, college

where did the money go?

For Christmas, all you're getting, friends, is an apology note with a copy of my bank statement attached.

Tomorrow: my ruminations and theories on Christmas parties.

technorati tags:money

Titanic

Finals week is my new favorite thing.  It's exactly what we say would be superior while we're swamped with work: all the perks of college without work.  I had a three day weekend, including today.  I watched four movies yesterday, and I only left the couch to eat and go to church.  One of those movies is one that I never properly appreciated when I saw it in theaters: Titanic.

I think what best sums up my feelings is the following sentiment: Titanic is a good movie in spite of itself.  Despite ridiculous, cheesy lines, vaguely annoying elements, an unlikable heroine and spawning the worst, most pervasive talent show song of the late 20th century, I somehow found myself swept up in the movie.  There were anywhere from 2 to 6 of us watching it at any given time.  We all saw how young Leonardo DiCaprio and literally squealed.  He was just so cute; The Proclaimers said it best when they sang, "Let's get married, hold hands, and waaaaaaaalk in the park!"  It brought me back to the days when it was still okay to like the movie.

Titanic, like everything huge and popular, rapidly became uncool to like.  Although all but a few saw it and loved it, within months, we all pretended that we didn't think it was that good.  It's a lie.  We loved it.  We were all sort of devastated when Jack died in the end.  And when there's commercial breaks so you don't have to sit through the end of the movie on the edge of the seat, almost crying over the state of your bladder, you're a lover of loving love.

technorati tags:movies, college, romance, Titanic

Before I Die

There are some things I've decided I have to do before I die. I'm going to mention only a few.

1. Be in a hip hop video. Yes, the portrayal of women in these videos is degrading. But I just want to prance around in the hoochie shorts, wear one of those non-tops that I've never seen sold anywhere, let some man grease me down so my skin is shiny and then dance around. And make stupid, supposedly sexy faces at the camera as it passes.

2. Enter a men's restroom for some other reason than that the line for the women's line is long, as usual, and I'm desperate to pee. The end of the journey will not be my using the facilities after locking the front door and preventing anyone else from entering and coming upon me. I will take time to appreciate how truly inferior men's restrooms are...and figure out what that weird smell is.

3. Go streaking. I've been skinny dipping and wandered through my house naked. The logical next step is to run around naked in public. I looked on with a tinge of envy as the streaker who ran onto the field during the football game with our rival college was tackled to the ground by the police. An economics professor who is widely despised by the student body has a first lecture that sounds something like this: "...Homework is worth 15% of your grade, and if you streak in my class, I will sue you for sexual harassment." Every semester, on the last day of lecture, there are streakers who run through the aisles to show their great disdain for both the class and/or the dismal grade they're getting out of it. Yesterday was the last day of the economics lecture. Nakedness ensued, and I was sad to not be part of it. Therefore, I will remedy this situation.

4. Go to Bonnaroo. I'm sad every summer when I can't go. There's always something...being out of the country, my mother keying into the fact that there are liberals amounts of illegal substances, etc. I'm cool with not getting to shower for several days, not sleeping and listening to ridiculous amounts of live music.

5. Go skydiving or bungee jumping. I'll save these for last. And I'll have to choose between this and breast implants. I watched a documentary about a woman who went bungee-jumping and her breast implants exploded. It broke all her ribs, and she barely survived. And if I'm going to die doing a ridiculous, unnecessarily dangerous stunt, it's not going to be my breasts that kill me, dammit.

technorati tags:college, wishes, music, streaking, skydiving, bathrooms

DISEASE CARRYING VERMIN

I learned something very important about myself today: I am a girl, and non-domesticated rodents flip me out.  There's a mouse that's been living in my suite.  The reaction of the 10 of us ranges anywhere from, "Aw, it's kind of cute" to mortal fear.  My reaction falls somewhere in between those two at a solid, "Disease carrying vermin, ah!"  It's not that I'm afraid of it, I'm just grossed out.  I suppose the one who thinks they're cute has a point: if they may give you diseases, it's good that they're at least cute and fuzzy rather than, say, mini-Rush-Limbaugh-like beings scurrying under my door.

I mean, I'm not going to lie.  I desperately craved a hamster for several years of my life.  My parents protested, but I got to bring home my 2nd grade class' pet, Ratical the rat.  My dog almost ate him, and then I almost lost him.  Suddenly, my parents didn't seem so ignorant in not seeing the pleasures of pets that require cages.  My dad's been against them ever since, as a child, he took his guinea pig out in the back yard to get some air and it died of heat stroke.  Just stopped moving and rolled onto its back.  He said the only consolation was that it would no longer make those annoying scritching noises in the middle of the night.

Anyway, my roommate just called me to tell me that she had her first mouse sighting.  The sightings have, thankfully, been mostly restricted to the girl who finds the mouse mildly cute.  That's all well and good, but can it be cute somewhere other than my room? That would be great, thanks.  I mean, my parents could buy a condo for what they're paying for my schooling.  The least they could receive for the services is my being rabies-free.

In the suite, we've started making outrageous claims about how we'll solve the problem.  My plan was motion-detecting taser lasers mounted in the top corners of the rooms that would shoot anything of a certain size (smaller than me).  More sane ideas included mousetraps.  Nice, but it doesn't have quite the same flair as being long-distance tasered.

I don't want to hear anyone talking to me about how rats and mice are really nothing to worry about.  I'm sure that's what the 14th-century Europeans thought, too.  But then there was this thing called THE BUBONIC PLAGUE.  But what's losing two thirds of the population, right?

technorati tags:mice, rats, vermin, girls, plagues

Deep and Meaningful Thought

People are always telling you to be yourself.  It's also an ingrained part of our society that you have to be modest.  All I'm saying is, I'm trying to be myself, and myself happens to be the shit, there's not much I can do about that.

I almost decided to end the entry there, but I've decided against it.  I find the false modesty in our America infuriating.  If you did something well, you should be able to gloat about it.  I don't like pretending that I don't know that you secretly think you're the shit.  I'd rather you just admit that you know you did a good job.

There are many people I know who have little joy in their lives.  Having to cheapen the good moments by pretending that oh, it's nothing, is pointless.  I'm awesome.  You're awesome.  We're awesome.  So let's all admit we're happy about that fact when we're happy about it.

Peace.

technorati tags:self-confidence, modesty