Just What I Needed
So, late Thursday night/early Friday morning, mere hours before I proved it by making her listen to Kanye West's "Late Registration" all the way to the airport, during a conversation concerning the nature of what qualifes one as "engaged"--is it discussing the possibililty of marriage? is it a goofy, outdated ceremony reminiscent of purchasing a bride? is it an exchange of tokens of mutual respect and affection? is it all or none of these things?--Marla reconfirmed my staus as "the most gangsta person" she knows, just because I insisted that "it doesn't count until you put a down payment on that ass" which would, of course, consist of "bling."
I was joking, obviously, but the theme continuted on Saturday, when, in response to a Zales commercial, I declared that "I don't care how many kids in Sierra Leone have to lose limbs, I want a freakin' eternity ring!!," that statement causing Courtney's roommate Mark to declare me his Favorite Person Ever. I was rather pleased.
In conclusion: BUY ME DIAMONDS TO PROVE YOUR LOVE I am a terrible but hilarious person.
So, Friday I went to Cincinnati for an art opening, which featured a lot of intense & excellent photography, focused on interpreting and arranging the human torso as a subject by obscuring and re-imagining it & its component shapes. It was totally fierce, as was Ai-ling, the artist, who is both the prettiest and the nicest friend of Michelle's I've ever met. Michelle had extended an invitation my way, and our evening also involved a dance party, a walk-off (sadly, no David Bowie to judge), and one of my favorite mathematical equations: "alcohol + fanfiction = FUN." Unfortunately, the alcohol in question claimed to be "Long Island Iced Tea" but actually tasted more like a liquid fig newton. Hm.
Saturday involved lunch with my parents, which is always a pleasure (sample--
Peggy: I have decided to go to church every Sunday in Lent, rather than giving anything up.
Dad: So, basically, you're giving up atheism for Lent.
Peggy: ... Mom: No, honey, agnosticism!
Peggy: I was sort of thinking of it as giving up "sleeping in on Sunday mornings," but I suppose you have a point...
and so on); and then, a leisurely drive up to Richmond, to the campus of Earlham College, to watch Anastasia with her housemate Mark (which was sort of like going to see the night's speaker, Malik Zulu Shabazz--still full of stereotypes--but more awesome--because it involved musical numbers and an adorable talking bat), followed by a night of being fêted by a houseful of tiny, dancing lesbians.
...perhaps I should explain.
For the past month or so, I have been dedicated to trying to call Courtney. She is busy, popular, and difficult to reach, especially because I limited my calls to Free Nights & Weekends minutes. So, for roughly a month, I spoke every night to some member of Courtney's house and/or left a message on the answering machine (each message being, I should point out, of various sanity & coherence, depending on my mood & the number of previous calls in that evening). This has apparently made me somewhat of a minor celebrity (the best was my call Saturday morning, which went like this:
Peggy: Hi, this is Peggy. Is Courtney there?
Housemate: No, she's not. Can I give her a message?
Peggy: Just tell her I'm on my way.
Now, not being privy to our prearrangement to hang out Saturday night, this girl was sort of bemused and thought I might be storming the house, as it were. Ahahaha.)
So anyway, I have achieved infamy as Courtney's friend/stalker via phone, and, as they had been planning a dance party that night, they decided to make it a dance in my honor. (Amusingly, I also ended up wearing Cameorn's "Foo Fighters: IN YOUR HONOR" tshirt, since it was the only clean article of clothing I had with me--having been in my car ever since I stole borrowed it from him for MBL to wear home on New Year's Eve.) Lydia, Courtney's roommate, even made it a point to inform me during the dance party that this was, in fact, a party FOR ME, and I should be properly grateful.
Which I was.
And, in fairness, not everyone there was a tiny lesbian. There was a preponderance of people who fit both of those criteria, but there was also a tall skinny guy in an Aaliyah t-shirt who danced so exuberantly that it gave Courtney Stendhal syndrome--"It was so awesome, I can't remember how awesome it was"--and some medium-sized lesbians and an assortment of hippies of varying genders, sexualities, and odor levels.
Anna: [joining the party] COURTNEY! It smells like HIPPIES in here!!!
...she was not wrong. But at this point in my travels, I had no room whatsoever to judge others, so I had an enjoyable time dancing and/or smelling and smelling like hippies.
The other amusing thing was that everyone who came in was like, "Oh, so you're Peggy? It's nice to meet you!" (including some people I think I'd met before, but I was wearing Swamp Thing at the time, so I was okay with them not connecting the two incidents) and was overwhelmingly friendly and kind. I got that same mini-celebrity response at the Quaker meeting Sunday morning, which was this week's Lenten church service. It was really neat and intimate, and I liked it rather a lot. (This was my first time at a Quaker meeting, so I'm glad I got to see a good one.)
So, all in all, perfect solution to having felt so lonely/friendless/pariah-esque (okay, now I'm just being silly) earlier this week.
Courtney rules.
Okay. This is long enough, and I have to go get ready for THE VIOLENT FEMMES with MBL AND MATTHEW tonight. And pizza! This will rule. It will rule EVERYTHING.
I was joking, obviously, but the theme continuted on Saturday, when, in response to a Zales commercial, I declared that "I don't care how many kids in Sierra Leone have to lose limbs, I want a freakin' eternity ring!!," that statement causing Courtney's roommate Mark to declare me his Favorite Person Ever. I was rather pleased.
In conclusion: BUY ME DIAMONDS TO PROVE YOUR LOVE I am a terrible but hilarious person.
So, Friday I went to Cincinnati for an art opening, which featured a lot of intense & excellent photography, focused on interpreting and arranging the human torso as a subject by obscuring and re-imagining it & its component shapes. It was totally fierce, as was Ai-ling, the artist, who is both the prettiest and the nicest friend of Michelle's I've ever met. Michelle had extended an invitation my way, and our evening also involved a dance party, a walk-off (sadly, no David Bowie to judge), and one of my favorite mathematical equations: "alcohol + fanfiction = FUN." Unfortunately, the alcohol in question claimed to be "Long Island Iced Tea" but actually tasted more like a liquid fig newton. Hm.
Saturday involved lunch with my parents, which is always a pleasure (sample--
Peggy: I have decided to go to church every Sunday in Lent, rather than giving anything up.
Dad: So, basically, you're giving up atheism for Lent.
Peggy: ... Mom: No, honey, agnosticism!
Peggy: I was sort of thinking of it as giving up "sleeping in on Sunday mornings," but I suppose you have a point...
and so on); and then, a leisurely drive up to Richmond, to the campus of Earlham College, to watch Anastasia with her housemate Mark (which was sort of like going to see the night's speaker, Malik Zulu Shabazz--still full of stereotypes--but more awesome--because it involved musical numbers and an adorable talking bat), followed by a night of being fêted by a houseful of tiny, dancing lesbians.
...perhaps I should explain.
For the past month or so, I have been dedicated to trying to call Courtney. She is busy, popular, and difficult to reach, especially because I limited my calls to Free Nights & Weekends minutes. So, for roughly a month, I spoke every night to some member of Courtney's house and/or left a message on the answering machine (each message being, I should point out, of various sanity & coherence, depending on my mood & the number of previous calls in that evening). This has apparently made me somewhat of a minor celebrity (the best was my call Saturday morning, which went like this:
Peggy: Hi, this is Peggy. Is Courtney there?
Housemate: No, she's not. Can I give her a message?
Peggy: Just tell her I'm on my way.
Now, not being privy to our prearrangement to hang out Saturday night, this girl was sort of bemused and thought I might be storming the house, as it were. Ahahaha.)
So anyway, I have achieved infamy as Courtney's friend/stalker via phone, and, as they had been planning a dance party that night, they decided to make it a dance in my honor. (Amusingly, I also ended up wearing Cameorn's "Foo Fighters: IN YOUR HONOR" tshirt, since it was the only clean article of clothing I had with me--having been in my car ever since I stole borrowed it from him for MBL to wear home on New Year's Eve.) Lydia, Courtney's roommate, even made it a point to inform me during the dance party that this was, in fact, a party FOR ME, and I should be properly grateful.
Which I was.
And, in fairness, not everyone there was a tiny lesbian. There was a preponderance of people who fit both of those criteria, but there was also a tall skinny guy in an Aaliyah t-shirt who danced so exuberantly that it gave Courtney Stendhal syndrome--"It was so awesome, I can't remember how awesome it was"--and some medium-sized lesbians and an assortment of hippies of varying genders, sexualities, and odor levels.
Anna: [joining the party] COURTNEY! It smells like HIPPIES in here!!!
...she was not wrong. But at this point in my travels, I had no room whatsoever to judge others, so I had an enjoyable time dancing and/or smelling and smelling like hippies.
The other amusing thing was that everyone who came in was like, "Oh, so you're Peggy? It's nice to meet you!" (including some people I think I'd met before, but I was wearing Swamp Thing at the time, so I was okay with them not connecting the two incidents) and was overwhelmingly friendly and kind. I got that same mini-celebrity response at the Quaker meeting Sunday morning, which was this week's Lenten church service. It was really neat and intimate, and I liked it rather a lot. (This was my first time at a Quaker meeting, so I'm glad I got to see a good one.)
So, all in all, perfect solution to having felt so lonely/friendless/pariah-esque (okay, now I'm just being silly) earlier this week.
Courtney rules.
Okay. This is long enough, and I have to go get ready for THE VIOLENT FEMMES with MBL AND MATTHEW tonight. And pizza! This will rule. It will rule EVERYTHING.