Spoken from the mouth of lokate(*), who is by far my favorite lokate in the world.
Before we really get started, here’s a picture of me in Amsterdam!
That’s a preview of next time (maybe). You don’t get to hear about A’dam this time because my iPad decided to go tits up the day we arrived (not the day we left though, which will be part of the story, I’m sure).
So as you may or may know (how should I know what you know; I don’t know who you are), I went back to America for a little bit, and while I was there, lokate told me a very valuable story. It was a story about dating, and this is the story she told me:
“i really like this guy. and that wasn’t always the case with the guys i dated. and i would talk to friends and be like, ‘you know how sometimes when you are dating someone, but you don’t really like them?’ and they would be like, ‘No, i don’t really think that’s how it’s supposed to be.’ and i realized they were right, you shouldn’t hate the person you are dating.”
(Story might actually be word for word. Or not. But definitely the gist.)
I think that’s pretty true. This story is particularly valuable because I will soon be going on my first blind date ever. The reason I’ve never gone on a blind date before is because they sound like the absolute worst things in the world, and I generally make a fool of myself enough in normal situations. I hoped my friends loved me enough not to try and wrangle me into one during my lifetime (if they waited until I was dead, I guess that would be fine), but alas; their ignoble hearts have been exposed. I imagine they will try to rationalize their actions by saying they don’t want me to die alone or something. However, this is not my fear–my fear is that I will die in a plane crash, in which case I will be surrounded by loads of people.
But I was completely caught off guard by the blind date invitation (…thanks for the lack of warning, Potter), and due to belief that if someone has the courage to ask you out on a date, you should at least give it a try, I am now committed (also, he’s my friend’s cousin, so…). Also, since I don’t know anything about the guy, I googled him, and I think he might actually be a genius, which makes me fairly confident that this will not end well. Still, thanks to lokate, now I know that if I hate him, I probably shouldn’t hang out with him again. So, if you have some really stellar blind date advice, let me know. Like, should I wear my fancy knee pads? Do you generally write down all your secrets beforehand in preparation to shout them out during awkward silences? These are the valuable nuggets that I to make up for my pathetically empty dating knowledge.
Anyway, speaking of speaking, I want to share other valuable quotes and stories from America. The first come from my grandpa. To give you a little unnecessary context about the stories my grandpa tells, here is one he told me before I left for the UK the first time around. I think he was trying to explain school in the good ol’ days.
“We had six hours of homework every night. And we walked for 5 miles in the snow each way, just to save a nickel. And I was working in the bowling alley setting up pins to 1 am every morning, so you know I wasn’t doing any homework.
(Pause for reflection)
It was probably the best school in the country, and there will probably never be another one like it. But then they let in the blacks, and the girls, and the standards really went down.”
So remember, that’s what we’re working with.
When I came home for Christmas, my older sister suggested that we take my grandpa to the racetracks for opening day. First off, the races started at 1, but they opened the park at 11, probably because the average age of customers is probably 87, and those folks take a long time getting from the gate to their seats. My grandpa wanted to get there at 10:30. We arrived at 11:30. On the ride there, we drove past Azusa Pacific, my cousin’s university. My grandpa asked if she was back in school, and my sister said she thought she had returned part-time, for 2 or 3 classes. That’y when the fun began.
Grandpa: When I was going to law school, I was taking 10 classes at a time.
Me: That’s not really how you do it these days; it’s kind of impossible to take that many classes. 2-3 is pretty standard.
G: Well, I did 10 classes a day, from 6-10 pm while working full-time, and that was with 5 children. And I did that for 15 years.
Me: …you went to law school for 15 years???
F: Yup; from 1949 to 1959.
(Thank God he wasn’t studying math for all those years).*
The next quote comes from the mouth of a babe. Or toddler. Whatever. I stayed in London JZ’s house (**) for a few days before I flew home for Christmas. One of the days, we took his 3 y.o. niece to a pantomime show (***), and at the very end- right at the last curtain call- the fire alarm went off. I started gathering up all the stuff, but the ushers were waving their hands about, saying, “Just leave everything! Go! GO!” From my many experiences with fires (specifically forest fires; thanks high school!), when someone says go, I go. So we went in the nice rainy weather outside. I was looking through my things, and I remarked to JZ that I think I left my phone inside. He said, “What, your crap phone?” I told him it didn’t matter if it was crap, it was still my phone. Ignoring this, he turned to his niece and said, “Ruby-chan, do you think the fire brigade will come?” Ruby looks at him and says, “Yeah, the firemen will come, and they’ll find a crap phone!”
On the subject of JZ’s family and quotes, this year also provided a bit of vindication. When I went to visit universities in the UK earlier last February, my mom asked me, “How far is London from England?” I (mistakenly) told JZ, who in turn told his mom, and they both had a good laugh at dumb Americans. However, when I visited London in November, we were talking about monarchs and their success when JZ’s mom very seriously argued, “The best queens have been women.” Well…that’s accurate, to be fair (though I imagine RuPaul might have something to say about it).
Now, some really short quotes, sans context! (J is not me, by the way).
J: There was a guy in my year who literally had a great pair of tits.
—-
O: So you smashed it.
J: I didn’t smash it, I just did everything I needed to do really well.
—
O: You sound like Elvis!…on the toilet, as he’s dying.
QUOTES FINITO! End part 1.
(Intermission) Erin wanted me to mention her in my blog, so here it is. Erin’s one comment to me is always, “Your blog is too long!” Think of my blog as a buffet; just because it’s all out there doesn’t mean you have to eat it all. Pace yourself. I will take no responsibility if you find yourself uncomfortably bloated and looking to vomit at the end. Also, Erin: to keep you motivating, I am going to reference you two more times in this essay of a blog. Also, I know how you get at a buffet; which means not only will you gorge yourself, but you’ll sneak some out in your pocket for later.
START PART 2: “Christmas! OMG! Santa! I know him!” or also titled, “Little did we know…”
One weird quote (okay, I lied about the quote finito business) that came about was from my brother’s girlfriend. My brother and his GF gave mini crossbows to people for the big day, and when I remarked that they looked particularly dangerous for a toy, his GF said, “It’s not a holiday without a trip to the ER!” I thought that was pretty freaking bizarre, but now I look back at it as being oddly prescient. (Cue dramatic BUM BUM BUM.)
Now, Christmas was exciting for two reasons (hopefully you caught a whiff that one direction is headed); both involved my brother and his…GF. The first was Christmas morn at my mom’s, when his GF mentioned that she collects Hooters shirts. My brother felt that Jesus’s birthday breakfast was a good time to announce that his GF’s boobs “were not, in fact, gifts from God.” Fast-forward to my dad’s house, where my littlest sister and I were waiting on our parents to finish getting ready so we could all go to my aunt’s house (Christmas is a very busy day in our family). My brother and his GF had gone back to their apartment to finish making a salad to take for the dinner. However, a sudden phone call from the GF put us into hyper mode: my brother has sliced his finger with a mandolin (or as I like to call it, the kitchen guillotine. Seriously, google image search “mandolin slicer accidents” to see what I mean). We kept getting quick updates, but my favorite was when I heard my dad say, “Did it actually come off?” (Pause). “How much?” Still, it wasn’t enough off that we can say he’s “all right”, so he’s alright now. Though he did lose the GF in the end, so there’s that…
START PART 3.
After last blog’s constant questioning shenanigans, I’ve decided you get one question–and I see you are going to waste it on the most mundane thing possible, but go ahead. “Jazillion, did you make a new year’s resolution?” The answer is “Of course, you collywobbler!” Here are my New Year’s Resolutions:
1. I have decided to only read news from The Onion. They seem to be the most consistent, after all.
2. Start the final wean from real pants to leggings. And good news, everybody! I got about 4 pairs of leggings for Christmas, which means I may never have to wear jeans again!! Declaring jeans independence for 2015.
3. Going off the last resolution, and to just stay consistent with recent events in general, I have decided to embarrass myself in public as much as possible. I have high hopes for keeping this one in anticipation of that blind date.
Speaking of New Years and Awkward Things, remember that NYE party I went to? No? Let me set the tone. All week long I’d been slightly dreading NYE, primarily because the idea of staying up until midnight at a party sounded really exhausting (When did I get so old?!?), but also because I didn’t know what to do, and people kept asking me, and I was like, “I would love to stay in all night watching ‘The Twilight Zone’, but I don’t think that’s what you’re going for.” Finally, Suzy(*!) and I decided to go to a block party in LA, so of course we ended up at the le Casa house party. This wasn’t my first choice because 1.) I hadn’t really been invited and 2.) Those guys are hipsters. While I love my friends who live at the house, I have a hard time with all their friends, because they are some of the most awkward people I know (as hipsters tend to be). So basically, as soon as we walk into the backyard (complete with bonfire), everyone turns and stares quizzically at you, as if you haven’t met each one of them about 50 times over the last 10 years (No, seriously, it has been that long or longer).
One of our friends (and some of our sort of friends) were standing in a circle near the front, so we quickly tried to blend in. However, this group included a friend I had seen once in 3 years, so I immediately felt awkward, and blamed it on the wine bottle I was holding. I went and set it down next to a small bucket filled with craft beers (I seemed to have been the only one to buy a $2 bottle of wine, or any wine, or anything but craft beer). After I arrived back to the group, I realized it wasn’t holding a wine bottle that made me feel awkward; it was not holding a glass of wine. So I pardoned myself and went to try and open the bottle. When I yanked the corkscrew out, the center of the cork popped out, but nothing more. So I sighed and stuck it in again, this time trying to yank it harder (****). Instead of pulling the cork out, the entire bottle shot out in the opposite direction and smashed against the wall. As all that nice red wine spilled out, the entire backyard population turned to stare. They didn’t say anything, because let’s face it: hipsters are kind of creepy; and on top of that, they are always ready to be photographed looking bored. Fortunately, I happened to shatter the bottle right next to a hose faucet, so I pretended to help clean up for a few minutes before grabbing a craft beer.
The last hour or so of the year was spent in the living room, where everyone went around and said 2 words (plus explanation) that they hoped would serve as symbols for the coming year. After each person said their speech, a cheer went up, and everyone took a sip of some 18-year-old whiskey (that sounds a lot more old-timey than it actually was). Then, as the countdown to the New Year began, “Instant Crush” played in the background; if that isn’t evidence that we were attending the most hipster of NYE parties, I don’t know what is.**
These are where the footnotes are hidden. Sorry Potter; they were just too jumbled to stick anywhere else. Also, this is my revenge for being set up on a blind date.
(*) Erin recently pointed out to me (whined) that she doesn’t know who people are, so here is a little explanation. lokate went to high school with me and was two years older than me (until she turned 24, an age at which she deemed it appropriate to stop aging). First I knew her as the Winkie (the Wild Cat school mascot; what a name) who liked Suzy’s brother; then she became my friend. Like Erin, most of our hangouts revolve around yogurt.
*Not that it’s relevant, but my grandpa never became a lawyer.
(**) JZ is my British friend who did training with me in Japan. Somehow we are still friends, despite the impossible odds. I should also say one of my only British friends, because British friends are nearly impossible to make, apparently.
(***) Pantomimes are, from what I can tell; like musicals, but worse, and with more children in attendance. And cross-dressers. The cross-dressers are on stage, usually; not in attendance, but I guess I can’t be sure of that.
(*!) Suzy has been my friend since elementary school, and is coincidentally flying out in a few days.
(****) That’s what she said.
**This actually reminded me of another party, years earlier (and I believe involving a backyard bonfire), with this same group. I was staying late to play DD (I have been known to refrain from imbibing, I’ll have you know***), and somehow the dregs of the party had moved to the living room. I don’t remember if what happened next was discussed, or just happened, but as it was happening, there seemed to be an unspoken acknowledgement by all that we were to sit quietly in the dark contemplating the song “Knocked Up” by Kings of Leon. I remember thinking, “Is this weird? Does anybody else think it’s weird? Do we all think it’s weird and we are Weird Chickening each other? Even though it’s dark, should I close my eyes? This is pretty good song; is this Kings of Leon?” I actually can’t listen to that song when it’s not dark now. Also, there are some weird parties in Orange County.
***Also, I just looked up when “Because of the Times” was released; it was 2007. So yes; I was not DD by choice, but requirement.
Also, Erin, here is an awesome version of “Shock to Your System” that would be so much more awesome if Tegan WASN’T SINGING IN IT. Sara, on the other hand, nails it.
whereisjillian 