I’ve started to default to calling almost all awkward activities in which I participate, willingly or unwillingly, a social experiment. Lately, my life is full of them. And in the interest of science, I shall list them for you:
Dating a nineteen year old.
Buying a solo concert ticket in the hopes that by the time said concert comes to pass, I will know one other person who likes the band and also wants to go.
Staying at the bar when my friends leave, planning on doing so for fifteen minutes, and watching it turn into three hours after the bartender insists on buying me a Shirley Temple.
Acquiring a mullet by force. Or as the French call it, “moo-lay”.
Wearing a romper out of the house on multiple occasions yet wearing a dress to sleep.
Trying to draw someone who is sleeping in the park, and faking like I’m just drawing the spot next to them when they wake up and are suddenly freaked out.
Openly drinking Hawaiian punch, and Hawaiian punch only, for dinner.
Taping drawings to my walls to inspire me to wake up and draw, only to wake up in the middle of the night and think, for one second, that they are monsters. Then telling people about it.
Recording forty episodes of “Saved by the Bell” on the communal T.V. and then wondering aloud that it must be some glitch of the Tivo system if anyone asks who could possibly watch that much Zak Morris.
Making a playlist for a party that hasn’t even been planned yet (in a hotel room, the theme being “Snow Day”) which is full of both southern crunk and snippets from a CD I just found from 2000 called “K’s Hand Dancing Mix”. Then telling people about it.
“Interviewing” at American Apparel.
Having a staring contest with a baby. (He won.)
Planning a trip to Argentina with no money and no time off.
Planning a trip to Paris with no money and no time off.
Calling everyone I know and or see by a nickname they have neither approved, nor can understand. (Poor Man’s Winnie Cooper, Colonel Peachtree, Beards R’ Us, to name a few).
Boycotting texting, though it makes life incredibly difficult for everyone else.
Yay for social experiments! And I have so many more to come…
Dating a nineteen year old.
Buying a solo concert ticket in the hopes that by the time said concert comes to pass, I will know one other person who likes the band and also wants to go.
Staying at the bar when my friends leave, planning on doing so for fifteen minutes, and watching it turn into three hours after the bartender insists on buying me a Shirley Temple.
Acquiring a mullet by force. Or as the French call it, “moo-lay”.
Wearing a romper out of the house on multiple occasions yet wearing a dress to sleep.
Trying to draw someone who is sleeping in the park, and faking like I’m just drawing the spot next to them when they wake up and are suddenly freaked out.
Openly drinking Hawaiian punch, and Hawaiian punch only, for dinner.
Taping drawings to my walls to inspire me to wake up and draw, only to wake up in the middle of the night and think, for one second, that they are monsters. Then telling people about it.
Recording forty episodes of “Saved by the Bell” on the communal T.V. and then wondering aloud that it must be some glitch of the Tivo system if anyone asks who could possibly watch that much Zak Morris.
Making a playlist for a party that hasn’t even been planned yet (in a hotel room, the theme being “Snow Day”) which is full of both southern crunk and snippets from a CD I just found from 2000 called “K’s Hand Dancing Mix”. Then telling people about it.
“Interviewing” at American Apparel.
Having a staring contest with a baby. (He won.)
Planning a trip to Argentina with no money and no time off.
Planning a trip to Paris with no money and no time off.
Calling everyone I know and or see by a nickname they have neither approved, nor can understand. (Poor Man’s Winnie Cooper, Colonel Peachtree, Beards R’ Us, to name a few).
Boycotting texting, though it makes life incredibly difficult for everyone else.
Yay for social experiments! And I have so many more to come…
4 comments:
dear you,
WHY ARE YOU DATING A 19 YEAR OLD.
I HOPE YOU ARE EATING MORE THAN HAWAIIAN PUNCH NOW.
love,
a brain
Lol.
I'm not really dating him. Promise.
And also, to be fair, it was almost the entire gallon of Hawaiian Punch. So I think there were plenty of calories in it.
You probably had to go to the bathroom a lot since you drank almost an entire gallon of Hawaiian punch. Might as well have drank alcohol. At least you would have a nice buzz after. lol.
almost literary has now been read in Krakow Poland. Hot damn.
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