2006: The Year of the Bridesmaid
I'm in a truckload of weddings in 2006 which makes me feel loved and appreciated. And the wonderful thing about weddings is that everyone always plays Earth Wind and Fire songs like it's still 1975 and my bridesmaid dress is a powder blue sparkly disco halter gown to match the groomsmens powder blue ruffley tuxes.*
This was the last lovely long vacation of my student career. Four weeks, ppl! A month of loafing! I decorated my parents' house for Christmas, then there was a week where my bum accidently got superglued to the couch (o well, I'll just have to watch lots of "As Time Goes By") (my parents own all 8 seasons) (if only american tv had british ppl with british accents playing all major roles, my mother might actually watch something besides PBS and BBC America)
Then there was New Years (on which many shrimp were thrown at expectant hibachi-eatin mouths and many raspberries met their bubbly death in my champagne) then there was a day, then I went to California and Mexico. I'll try not to talk about Mexico, because I've noticed that ppl try to be happy for me, but underneath they're probably making a "meemeemeemeemee" noise in sync with what I'm saying and adding exaggerated arm gesticulations and fake laughter and then slowly drifting off to a dream world in which I drive my expensive convertible off a cliff to crash at the bottom in a warm blast of flame and they inherit that ___ of mine that they've always admired. And somehow, mentioning that I had food poisoning and that it was super super cold in San Diego doesn't win me any points.
I really don't know why.
I will say this one thing: when we boarded our ship (the cruiseline will remain nameless, but it is derived from the medival festival in which the poorest peasants in the manor village were dressed up and treated as king and queen for the day and the manor lord and lady were treated like the poorest peasants (but somehow i doubt that)), my father leaned over and muttered to my mom and me "so the motif they're going for is early french whorehouse?" and then my mom said something to the effect of "this dining room looks like mardi gras threw up."
I have to admit that the decor grows on you. Or maybe it's like if you listen to loud awful music long enough you'll lose your hearing and the loud awful music sounds quiet and pretty. The end result is the same as long as you wait about a month before you redecorate your own house.
But then, after I came back, there was still like a half week! It was ridiculous! I needed to come up with new ways to loaf as I was developing loaf sores and aggravating old loafing injuries! It got so boring that it's even boring to write about! So I'm gonna stop now.
but to end my rather boring re-entry, here's a funny folk song lyric that I want to share:
"from Big Rock Candy Mountain
"There's a lake of stew
And of whiskey too
And you can paddle
All around it in a big canoe"
People over the age of 5 actually used to sing this song. I bet they didn't have anything like sarcasm back then. Or dieting. O, the good old days.
*(Note to my ladies tying the knot and picking out bridesmaid dresses: I would be totally into a powder blue sparkly disco halter gown.)
This was the last lovely long vacation of my student career. Four weeks, ppl! A month of loafing! I decorated my parents' house for Christmas, then there was a week where my bum accidently got superglued to the couch (o well, I'll just have to watch lots of "As Time Goes By") (my parents own all 8 seasons) (if only american tv had british ppl with british accents playing all major roles, my mother might actually watch something besides PBS and BBC America)
Then there was New Years (on which many shrimp were thrown at expectant hibachi-eatin mouths and many raspberries met their bubbly death in my champagne) then there was a day, then I went to California and Mexico. I'll try not to talk about Mexico, because I've noticed that ppl try to be happy for me, but underneath they're probably making a "meemeemeemeemee" noise in sync with what I'm saying and adding exaggerated arm gesticulations and fake laughter and then slowly drifting off to a dream world in which I drive my expensive convertible off a cliff to crash at the bottom in a warm blast of flame and they inherit that ___ of mine that they've always admired. And somehow, mentioning that I had food poisoning and that it was super super cold in San Diego doesn't win me any points.
I really don't know why.
I will say this one thing: when we boarded our ship (the cruiseline will remain nameless, but it is derived from the medival festival in which the poorest peasants in the manor village were dressed up and treated as king and queen for the day and the manor lord and lady were treated like the poorest peasants (but somehow i doubt that)), my father leaned over and muttered to my mom and me "so the motif they're going for is early french whorehouse?" and then my mom said something to the effect of "this dining room looks like mardi gras threw up."
I have to admit that the decor grows on you. Or maybe it's like if you listen to loud awful music long enough you'll lose your hearing and the loud awful music sounds quiet and pretty. The end result is the same as long as you wait about a month before you redecorate your own house.
But then, after I came back, there was still like a half week! It was ridiculous! I needed to come up with new ways to loaf as I was developing loaf sores and aggravating old loafing injuries! It got so boring that it's even boring to write about! So I'm gonna stop now.
but to end my rather boring re-entry, here's a funny folk song lyric that I want to share:
"from Big Rock Candy Mountain
"There's a lake of stew
And of whiskey too
And you can paddle
All around it in a big canoe"
People over the age of 5 actually used to sing this song. I bet they didn't have anything like sarcasm back then. Or dieting. O, the good old days.
*(Note to my ladies tying the knot and picking out bridesmaid dresses: I would be totally into a powder blue sparkly disco halter gown.)
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