The other night I met a guy named Jason. We spent about 2 hours together and I was able to extract a lot of information from him. For example, he works at TVA. In management he said, but I have my doubts. He has four kids: two boys, two girls. His girls’ names are Tori and Ni-vay-yuh (not sure how it’s actually spelled, but that’s how you pronounce it). They are six and two respectively. He loves being a father. Greatest thing in the world, he says. He’s actually a single father. His wife died two years ago. He didn’t go into how she passed away which leads me to believe it was likely not true. More likely it was a way to get some sympathy and maybe some company for later in the evening. He thinks the USA is the greatest country in the world. He has some unambiguous feelings about the leadership in the city of Knoxville. He likes to follow every sentence up with, “Know wut I mean?”, just to drive his point home. He’s a real charmer, this Jason.
I met ol’ Jason at a John Mellencamp concert. Now that you know that, please ask yourself why I know so much about his life. I was there to listen to music. Not make a new friend. I was there to spend time with the friend who invited me. Not to engage in anything more than the occasional “excuse me” if we were to accidentally bump into each other while dancing to Crumblin’ Down. I was there to maybe exchange pleasantries with the people around me. Not to have to be accosted by a 300 pound redneck whose ample body exuded the stench of years’ worth of chain smoking. Every time he opened his mouth, I inched closer to a lung cancer diagnosis.
Not only did he continue to talk about his personal life in a room that was, at it’s quietest, 150 decibels, but he would also occasionally give me his profound take on Mr. Mellencamp’s singing abilities after all these years. No fewer than seven times did he turn to me and tell me that for a guy in his 50’s (he’s not, by the way – he’s 60) he still “had it”. “I hope I’m still about to do that when I’m his age”, he would say. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that because of his current stature, he couldn’t even do it at 28, which he also shared with me at some point during the show. “That’s cool”, he kept saying at various times for God knows what reason. He’d literally just turn to me at various times and offer the obligatory, “That’s cool”. Only it was really more of a “coo-wuhl”, coming from him. Enchanting.
When we had our little conversation about his age, he of course had to ask me mine. I told him I was older than he was. That didn’t satisfy him. He guessed 26. Now, I’m no mathematician, but I do know that 28 is GREATER THAN 26.
Me: “No, older than 26.”
Ol’ Jason: “No way”. (He is actually charming the pants on me at this point.)
Me: “A lot older, actually.”
Ol’ Jason: “34?”
Me: I’m tired of this game. “38.”
Ol’ Jason: (nodding with seriousness and sincerity like he really wants me to feel what he’s saying) “Man, you look awwwwesome.”
Me: A half-hearted appreciative smile, and then a quick turn to my friend to end this conversation.
I am so seldom flirted with that I feel like I probably would have trouble recognizing it if and when it were to happen. But, this was not flirtation. It was something more pathetic. I don’t know if he was hoping to get into the pants of an equally desperate lady or just what. What would he have done if I had really been into him? No, I just happened to be the unfortunate soul whose ticket placed her next to him for the duration of the show. I resented that he was encroaching on my time to enjoy the show and the friend I was there with. But I knew. I knew as soon as I saw him bounding down the aisle that he was headed straight to me. It happens every time I go to a concert or sporting event. Without fail, the loser sits next to, in front of, or behind me.
Of course, public events and venues like that are really just loser conventions anyway, aren’t they? So, it stands to reason that losers would be all around me. It’s just amazing to me that these people don’t understand common etiquette in these situations. Haven’t they ever been seated next to someone who drove them crazy? Don’t they know how it feels? Why do they inflict this on the rest of us?
Every time Mike and I go to a concert, about 20 minutes into it we find ourselves asking why we chose to do it in the first place. We once saw Lyle Lovett at the Alabama Theatre in Birmingham. A nice venue. A good, low-key act. What could possibly go wrong? Well, for starters, the couple in the seats in front of us were making out (complete with tongues and smacking) for most of the show. Really? Lyle Lovett inspires this? Every time they would get going, Mike and I would look at each other in utter bewilderment as to why it was happening. We heard the people behind us laugh a few times so we assumed they were in agreement with us that this was unreasonable behavior. It was only later we realized that they were making out, too. Who finds this to be acceptable public behavior? And why at a Lyle Lovett concert?! I thought his fans were older and lame like Mike and I are. Nope. They are, apparently, horny rednecks.
So, back to ol’ Jason. My friend, Wendy, feeling sorry for my situation, kept trying in vain to peel me away from his boorish conversation. She’d lean over to me when his body language would indicate that he was about to approach me with another one of his profound musings, and begin to talk to me about nothing in particular so he’d take that social clue to mean that I was unavailable for conversation. But ol’ Jason is persistent. He doesn’t let something like that derail his attempts at a budding friendship. He would simply and politely wait for me to finish talking/nodding/laughing with Wendy to dazzle me with more of his reflections on fatherhood.
After the show, Wendy told me what a nice person I was to continue to talk with him. You can actually see from this post that I am, in fact, not a nice person at all. I was nice to him and I did participate in conversations with him. What if he was telling the truth about his wife? Then maybe he was just a lonely guy who needed some companionship. I couldn’t be rude to him. But he was rude to me. I paid money (really I didn’t – the ticket was a gift) to see that show and be entertained by John Mellencamp. I was there for that reason and that reason only. Ol’ Jason prevented me from getting the full enjoyment out of the show. It’s people like ol’ Jason who will keep me at home the next time an act I’m interested in comes to town. It’s just not worth it to have to suffer through the shenanigans of obnoxious fat guys and maker-outers.
Know wut I mean?
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Girls Gone Wild
Q: What do you get when you cross six former college roommates/sorority sisters with a weekend of drinking and debauchery in Charleston?
A: Conversations about va-jazzling, copious usage of the "f" word, too many inside jokes to name, good food, good drink, and lots and lots of laughing.
Let's rewind:
(I won't go into too much detail in order to protect the innocent. And anyway, trying to recreate it wouldn't do it justice anyway, so I'll just hit the high notes.)
For the past five years, four of my college girlfriends and I have been getting together each summer at one of our houses to catch up and let the kids spend time together. I must confess, when the idea of starting to do this first came up, I was skeptical. It was all sounding great - we'd meet in Charlotte; all stay at one person's house, go out to eat, have some wine - what's not to like? Then someone mentioned something about needing to get a babysitter for one of the nights. A babysitter? You mean we're bringing our kids? This just got a lot less fun...
But it was fun. And I was so glad I went. We've been doing it every year since then and it is so neat to watch the kids get excited to all see each other again. My kids are among the youngest participants, so when I mention that we're doing it again, I am met with the "Who's Miss Paige?" question each time. Funny that this time, they knew exactly who she and everyone else was (we went sans kiddos this time and they were not pleased at our decision to leave them out of the whole affair). So, last year, as we were deciding where we would meet for summer 2011, someone had the INGENIOUS idea to have just a girls-only trip. No kids. (Insert organ music, the clouds parting and a brilliant, white light shining down from the heavens here.) We got our calendars together and picked the first weekend in November - the first time that all of our over-scheduled lives permitted us to all be in the same place at the same time. As the date drew closer, I was almost giddy. I look forward to this event - these girls - every year. And to be able to visit with them without the running and jumping and constant requests for Cheez-its and juice boxes and all of the crying and screaming and whining and noise and fights and uproarious laughter and yelling and breaking and someone-grab-the-bandaids-ing (of course, most of these things come from Amy) was a long time coming.
So every year, Amy, Elizabeth, Paige, Nicole and Maggie have loaded up the kids and traveled somewhere for a few days of reminiscing and creating new memories. Each year, the group begs Sarah to come along. Sarah is smart enough to make the declaration that if the kids are in, she's out, so we have never been successful in our pleading...until this year! The six of us gathered in Charleston thanks to the wonderful planning of Nicole and Elizabeth. I need them to plan every trip I go on from now on. I didn't have to think of anything. I wonder if they've already thought to write themselves a thank-you note from me. Sure hope so.
We had a nice condo at Isle of Palms, plenty of rooms and, more importantly, bathrooms. We didn't spend too much time there because it seemed we were always on the lookout for our next meal. Most meals had been taken care of with reservations, but of course the older you get, the more your entire day revolves around your next feeding. Charleston was awesome - plenty of terrific food and drinks, tons of shopping. Of course, we saw nothing of "historic" Charleston. We'll have to catch that on the next trip. When someone needs to find a fun pair of boots, we just can't be bothered to slog on over to some stupid museum or cultural place of interest. Whatevs.
As we were first catching up, we began to notice that there was a lot of depressing conversation - friends we knew who had cancer, people who had divorced, problems with peoples' kids that we knew. Very somber stuff. Someone questioned why all of our topics were turning into sad stories and I remarked that this is kind of our Big Chill. For those of you who haven't seen that movie, it is about a group of college friends who gather together several years after they graduated and went their separate ways. They are late 30's early 40's (sound familiar?) and none of their lives have turned out as they had planned or hoped they would.
Now, I will say that the stories we discussed were not about ourselves. We actually talked about how we had a carload of pretty damn happy people. But, still, we were struck by the amount of sadness - Big Chilling - out there around us. Every time the conversation took a Big Chill turn, we'd try and interject some humor into it and from then on, the conversations were mostly hilarious and ridiculous and things I won't repeat here. An interesting side note: The morning after our first night there, Amy ran up to the bathroom and said to me through the door, "You have to come into the den right now". I walked out to the den and guess what movie was coming on tv? The Big Chill! Coincidence? Not sure. But I do know we all have better hair than those people did when that movie was made.
So, by now, you may be wondering why this post is titled "Girls Gone Wild" when really it seems as though all we did was eat, drink (lots), shop for boots, and watch The Big Chill. Well, it's a joke, We didn't go wild. We didn't need to. We all prefer hanging out with a drink and relating to interesting people (not sure how I landed in that mix, but grateful I did). I think the latest I stayed up was midnight. But we had a blast! We laughed more than I have for such a sustained period in a long time. We talked about the kinds of things that if I heard someone else talking about them, I'd think they were a trashy, vapid, horrible person. But, man, it was hilarious! And we did drink. A lot. We were hoping for the return of our college friend, Drunk Liz, but Elizabeth kept her faculties about her rather well despite the constant requests that she become "Drunk Liz". I will admit that I was "Slurring Maggie" on Friday night which led to "Headache Maggie" Saturday morning. But all, in all, we kept it classy. Really, the way we talked, we kept it more "Klassy" than "Classy", but who's keeping score? We had a brief period where we discussed the fact that Sarah was the first person I had ever heard use the "f" word (it was actually "M-F") where it sounded funny to me instead of dirty. It is because of her that this is my favorite curse word. Once Paige admitted that she hated this word, it pretty much gave the rest of us license to try and break a record for how many times it could be used in a weekend.
The only Girls Gone Wild moment for me actually occurred the morning after I returned home when I was dead sober. As I made my way to the bathroom to get my shower, I ran right into the enormous suitcase I had packed (for a three day trip) and was too lazy to unpack the night before, and broke my pinky toe. If any of the girls from the trip are reading this, please understand, it was my TOE. Not my finger. (inside joke)
Oh yeah, and the conversations about va-jazzling? None of us do that. But we talked - at length - about it. If you don't know what it is, congratulations! You have some class! But those of us who don't have class discussed that it is the practice of women bedazzling their hee-hoos. And by "discussed it", I mean that we spent hours upon hours laughing about it and asking rhetorical questions about why such a thing was necessary. What else do you talk about with people you've been friends with for almost twenty years? Seriously, I'm asking. We've GOT to have another topic of conversation next year. I did have a lot of fun trying to make up new words that begin with va-jazz. That just never gets old.
On Sunday, we all scattered and went back to our own little lives and routines. I miss Mike and the girls when I'm away (going wild) and was so happy to hug their necks. I was sad, though, when we all left, because I know it'll be another year before I see these beautiful, smart, fun and silly women again. Even longer until we see Sarah again (next year the kids are joining us). I am so thankful for their friendship and for the time we get to spend together. It was a va-jazz-tastic weekend!
A: Conversations about va-jazzling, copious usage of the "f" word, too many inside jokes to name, good food, good drink, and lots and lots of laughing.
Let's rewind:
(I won't go into too much detail in order to protect the innocent. And anyway, trying to recreate it wouldn't do it justice anyway, so I'll just hit the high notes.)
For the past five years, four of my college girlfriends and I have been getting together each summer at one of our houses to catch up and let the kids spend time together. I must confess, when the idea of starting to do this first came up, I was skeptical. It was all sounding great - we'd meet in Charlotte; all stay at one person's house, go out to eat, have some wine - what's not to like? Then someone mentioned something about needing to get a babysitter for one of the nights. A babysitter? You mean we're bringing our kids? This just got a lot less fun...
But it was fun. And I was so glad I went. We've been doing it every year since then and it is so neat to watch the kids get excited to all see each other again. My kids are among the youngest participants, so when I mention that we're doing it again, I am met with the "Who's Miss Paige?" question each time. Funny that this time, they knew exactly who she and everyone else was (we went sans kiddos this time and they were not pleased at our decision to leave them out of the whole affair). So, last year, as we were deciding where we would meet for summer 2011, someone had the INGENIOUS idea to have just a girls-only trip. No kids. (Insert organ music, the clouds parting and a brilliant, white light shining down from the heavens here.) We got our calendars together and picked the first weekend in November - the first time that all of our over-scheduled lives permitted us to all be in the same place at the same time. As the date drew closer, I was almost giddy. I look forward to this event - these girls - every year. And to be able to visit with them without the running and jumping and constant requests for Cheez-its and juice boxes and all of the crying and screaming and whining and noise and fights and uproarious laughter and yelling and breaking and someone-grab-the-bandaids-ing (of course, most of these things come from Amy) was a long time coming.
So every year, Amy, Elizabeth, Paige, Nicole and Maggie have loaded up the kids and traveled somewhere for a few days of reminiscing and creating new memories. Each year, the group begs Sarah to come along. Sarah is smart enough to make the declaration that if the kids are in, she's out, so we have never been successful in our pleading...until this year! The six of us gathered in Charleston thanks to the wonderful planning of Nicole and Elizabeth. I need them to plan every trip I go on from now on. I didn't have to think of anything. I wonder if they've already thought to write themselves a thank-you note from me. Sure hope so.
We had a nice condo at Isle of Palms, plenty of rooms and, more importantly, bathrooms. We didn't spend too much time there because it seemed we were always on the lookout for our next meal. Most meals had been taken care of with reservations, but of course the older you get, the more your entire day revolves around your next feeding. Charleston was awesome - plenty of terrific food and drinks, tons of shopping. Of course, we saw nothing of "historic" Charleston. We'll have to catch that on the next trip. When someone needs to find a fun pair of boots, we just can't be bothered to slog on over to some stupid museum or cultural place of interest. Whatevs.
As we were first catching up, we began to notice that there was a lot of depressing conversation - friends we knew who had cancer, people who had divorced, problems with peoples' kids that we knew. Very somber stuff. Someone questioned why all of our topics were turning into sad stories and I remarked that this is kind of our Big Chill. For those of you who haven't seen that movie, it is about a group of college friends who gather together several years after they graduated and went their separate ways. They are late 30's early 40's (sound familiar?) and none of their lives have turned out as they had planned or hoped they would.
Now, I will say that the stories we discussed were not about ourselves. We actually talked about how we had a carload of pretty damn happy people. But, still, we were struck by the amount of sadness - Big Chilling - out there around us. Every time the conversation took a Big Chill turn, we'd try and interject some humor into it and from then on, the conversations were mostly hilarious and ridiculous and things I won't repeat here. An interesting side note: The morning after our first night there, Amy ran up to the bathroom and said to me through the door, "You have to come into the den right now". I walked out to the den and guess what movie was coming on tv? The Big Chill! Coincidence? Not sure. But I do know we all have better hair than those people did when that movie was made.
So, by now, you may be wondering why this post is titled "Girls Gone Wild" when really it seems as though all we did was eat, drink (lots), shop for boots, and watch The Big Chill. Well, it's a joke, We didn't go wild. We didn't need to. We all prefer hanging out with a drink and relating to interesting people (not sure how I landed in that mix, but grateful I did). I think the latest I stayed up was midnight. But we had a blast! We laughed more than I have for such a sustained period in a long time. We talked about the kinds of things that if I heard someone else talking about them, I'd think they were a trashy, vapid, horrible person. But, man, it was hilarious! And we did drink. A lot. We were hoping for the return of our college friend, Drunk Liz, but Elizabeth kept her faculties about her rather well despite the constant requests that she become "Drunk Liz". I will admit that I was "Slurring Maggie" on Friday night which led to "Headache Maggie" Saturday morning. But all, in all, we kept it classy. Really, the way we talked, we kept it more "Klassy" than "Classy", but who's keeping score? We had a brief period where we discussed the fact that Sarah was the first person I had ever heard use the "f" word (it was actually "M-F") where it sounded funny to me instead of dirty. It is because of her that this is my favorite curse word. Once Paige admitted that she hated this word, it pretty much gave the rest of us license to try and break a record for how many times it could be used in a weekend.
The only Girls Gone Wild moment for me actually occurred the morning after I returned home when I was dead sober. As I made my way to the bathroom to get my shower, I ran right into the enormous suitcase I had packed (for a three day trip) and was too lazy to unpack the night before, and broke my pinky toe. If any of the girls from the trip are reading this, please understand, it was my TOE. Not my finger. (inside joke)
Oh yeah, and the conversations about va-jazzling? None of us do that. But we talked - at length - about it. If you don't know what it is, congratulations! You have some class! But those of us who don't have class discussed that it is the practice of women bedazzling their hee-hoos. And by "discussed it", I mean that we spent hours upon hours laughing about it and asking rhetorical questions about why such a thing was necessary. What else do you talk about with people you've been friends with for almost twenty years? Seriously, I'm asking. We've GOT to have another topic of conversation next year. I did have a lot of fun trying to make up new words that begin with va-jazz. That just never gets old.
On Sunday, we all scattered and went back to our own little lives and routines. I miss Mike and the girls when I'm away (going wild) and was so happy to hug their necks. I was sad, though, when we all left, because I know it'll be another year before I see these beautiful, smart, fun and silly women again. Even longer until we see Sarah again (next year the kids are joining us). I am so thankful for their friendship and for the time we get to spend together. It was a va-jazz-tastic weekend!
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