Putting my bilious mood behind, I decided to celebrate. And I even came up with a good reason: drink and rejoice because America has not had to suffer through a terrifying regime change in nearly four years! Besides, since free as in speech has taken a bit of a hit after eleven states decided to constitutionally ban gay marriage, I might as well excersize what freedoms I do have left and consume vast quantities of free as in beer.
That’s a good name for a party.
Not a terribly good name for a holiday, is it?
But a good night, certainly. The week previous, Greg, Paul.za, Heidi and I went to Aardvark’s to see about costumes for the annual Prufrock Party (warning: poorly styled double links). Aardvark’s is truly ridiculous. Where else could you find an honestly good collection of kilts alongside wide assortment of ruffled shirts, kimonos, and hospital gowns. Not to mention the chaps. And they’ve got collector’s items as well. Want a jacket made entirely out of unopened condom packets? How about a kid’s danger mouse hoodie?
We spent about an hour there and all made out quite well. Paul got a leopard print floppy hat, and a leopard print… something. I don’t know, was it a nightie ,or a little girl’s dress? Or… I’ll just stick with a “something”. Couldn’t say. Anyway, in case you hadn’t guessed, he went as a leopard. Really quite amusing.
Heidi got a cheerleader skirt (they have a crap-load of skirts there but not one cheerleader top. Must be someone out there running around with about a hundred cheerleader tops wondering where all her (his?) bottoms got to), a high school athletic jacket (named Jessica Hooper) and some pom-poms. I think we eventually decided that she went as a college cheerleader dressed up as a high school cheerleader.
Greg, perhaps, stole the show. He got a plastic hula skirt, a long black wig, and (yup – you guessed it) a coconut. The hula girl outfit was complete after cutting the coconut in half and affixing it to his bosom. A little eye-shadow here, some lipstick there, consumate glitter and you’ve got yourself one seriously unattractive woman.
Laking such inpiration, I got an outrageously colored clown outfit and a gigantic blonde afro. No one ever quite pinned it down, but I must have been some sort of pedophillic circus escapee what with the ill- (read “non-“) shaven face. We met up with Michelle (a very lovely fairy), Suvir (glam rock/Beckham – I didn’t hear him say himself but received conflicting reports from others), Bert and Saucy (private schoolers), Ace (the guy that’s not Waldo – perhaps the best idea for a costume I’ve ever heard of), and Adam (a very well done Clark Kent). Pictures can be found at the coven. Sorry – I forgot my camera.
Holly also joined us for the night dressed as (I kid you not) “pretty”. She, Paul.za and I spent most of the evening together being highly entertained by our own and others’ antics. She danced with a pumpkin. It was most amusing. Her conversation and gesticulations were most amusing as well – but they might best be spared the ether.
Other notables: Mark and his girlfriend as Papa Smurf and Smurfette, Alexa and Shannon as angel and devil, some dude as a box of Franzia (complete with spigot!), and some other dude as chiken and waffles (genius.).
Anyway – fully enjoyed by (almost) every one in attendance.
So the last many posts have been entirely devoid of content. Perhaps someone out there found the new bits interesting (though I think the robots are the only hits I get these days). If so, I’m glad. The new bits are the only thing I’ve done the entire week other than class, TA and sleep. And certainly none of that is interesting.
Last week(end), however, was more entertaining. Saturday night in particular. The evening started with a rollicking good (if long) time at the Lunasa concert on campus. The band is from .ie and claims to perform traditional .ieish music. I can’t back them up on their claim, since I don’t know what it is “supposed” to sound like. I can tell you that the concert was pretty awesome. The performers were obviously mighty musicians and masters of their various instruments. Additionally, their stage presence was most entertaining.
Paul.za is back from .za. Claims to have had a lovely time, but I fail to see how he could have what with all the green rolling hills, white sand beaches, dolphins and five course meals.
Immediately after coming into town (immediately as in he and Greg were just pulling into the parking lot), Michelle, Dixie and I accosted him and forced him to go to dinner with us at Father Nature’s (a pretty good Armenian place). Though he had been travelling for 31 hours, we also convinced him to hit up the GSC new student party in the cats:
“Rum and Coke?”
“We’re out of Rum.”
“Gin and Tonic?”
“No tonic. Gin and Coke?”
“Uh… No – Gin and Sprite?”
“Sure”
Ah GSC parties.
The annual Caltech first year orientation pub crawl was last night: Yardhouse, 35er, McMurphy’s, and Jake’s. I picked up some random first years on the way home and dropped them off at the Yardhouse before joining them. They may have thought I was a crack dealer. Oh well – at least they got free beer. Hung out with some cool people – Kristen and Wolf notably – but, as is typical for these orientation events, I will probably never see them again. Graeme was organizing the whole deal. I should ask him how much he ended up spending (and how overbudget that was).
Highlight of the night: At McMurphy’s when “Tom”, the manager for a band which may possibly have been called “Reefer Addicts” randomly came up to Rogier and asked for some “MoTow”. He was told Rogier was the person to see about aquiring such. Neither Rogier nor I knew why Tom was informed Rogier could help him out, nor did we have any idea that the kids these days were using such odd slang.
UPDATE.9.23.2004: I asked – Over $1000 (so about $400). He kept buying until they rejected his credit card.
Three Dudes… Twenty-Five Cigarillos… One Night…
Greg and Jeff roll in at about 11:15pm last night with a five pack of plastic tipped Swisher Sweets (don’t try to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about). After relating the story of their evening (which may or may not have involved Greg passed out in the Slushee machine of the 7 Eleven on Sierra Madre – head stuck under the spigot as Blue Raspberry continuously oozed over his shoulder), we hit the balcony, the brews, the mate and, of course, the cigarillos. Now – it was a five pack, and there were three of us.
The logical solution: As soon as we’d each had one, I drive us down to the 76 and we pick up four more five packs. You may as why this is so logical. Neither five nor twenty-five is divisible by three. I can assure you not only that the decision was made with great care, but that you are thinking way too hard about the situation.
What followed was a good six hour marathon of mate sipping, beer swilling, cigarillo puffing, and smoke ring blowing – along with the requisite amount of BS needed to tie everything together.
My taste buds are now temporarily (I hope) dulled, my right hand still smells like cheap, sweetened cigars, and, to be honest, I feel a little queasy. But it was worth it. Just do’t go barefoot on our balcony for the next day or two.
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