Monday, October 26, 2009

The Journal of Higher Jackassification, Part One

Warning: Portions of this tale simply cannot be told without dropping the f-bomb. Consider yourself warned.

OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG. I had so much fun. I have enough stories to write a week's worth of entries, but aside from about six other people, they won't be interesting to most. So, I'll attempt to distill this to the high points. Seat belts on?

It was 1996. We had our everyday flannel and our "clubbing" flannel. We danced to music from the Pulp Fiction soundtrack and gasped with horror when Kimberley pulled off her wig on Melrose Place. The more technologically savvy of us had pagers, and we went online through a byzantine process involving dial-up and multiple passwords.

We all met through Wilson Hall, the illustrious dorm situated in the central campus of Northern Arizona University. We became friends. Life happened. We earned degrees, started careers. Some of us got married. Others earned law degrees or had children, or became big-time businesswomen or political advocates. We each staked our own little place in the world, and made the rest of us proud.

And, we talked about meeting up. For about ten years. Finally, thanks to Facebook, it happened.

Scene #1:
We're enjoying the "manager's hour" at the hotel. Tracy turns to me, deadpan, and says, "I think I'm going to buy a monkey. You want in?"

I reply, without missing a beat, "Hell yes I do! But only if it wears a fez."

She answers, "There's no question that it will wear a fez. And dance for money."

I say, "It's a brilliant way to earn spare change."

She says, "And if it misbehaves, we can always skin it and eat it."

Text Message Interlude: Part One

Text: My snatch will land this plane.
Response: My snatch can move things just by using its mind.
Response Back: My snatch reduces the world's carbon footprint.
Response Back: My snatch is taking glorious pictures of the Grand Canyon that would make Ansel Adams weep.
Response Back: That's quite a shutter.

After manager's hour, some people decide they must buy water and beer. Janet and I are left behind. Before the others even leave the parking garage, she turns to me and says, "I'm losing my buzz. Let's get wings at Granny's."

We arrive at Granny's Closet, and to my complete delight it is Karaoke night. Oh, it's on

The rest of our party returns, and we're ready for action. I flip through the booklet and it quickly becomes clear that one song and one song only is appropriate for this night: "America," by Neil Diamond.

Many years ago, on an infamous trip to Las Vegas, I had consumed one or two beverages and was enjoying the unique stylings of a Neil Diamond cover band. I danced the only way I know---a literal form of interpretive dance which involves  acting out the message of the song. When the singer crooned, "The eye of the storm." I would point to my eye, and then move my hands in a stormy fashion. It's was strangely compelling then, and continues to be today.

Sunshine, remembering this trip, told me it was imperative  to re-create the moment. And so, I did. And, if I do say so myself, I sold that bitch. There were arm gestures, clenched fists thrust in the air, and everybody stood up at the end with me, shouting out "Today!"

It was a beautiful moment. This blurry mobile upload really captures it all.

Later on that evening, the class of 2007 (as we were calling ourselves), came up to sing "Blister in the Sun" by the Violent Femmes. Sunshine was pushing me to do a duet with a straggly, butt-crack-showing drunkard. "Do Islands in the Stream. He can be Kenny to your Dolly." I was almost sold, but alas, it was time to go.

Lying about my Job: Part One
Jessica: What do you do these days?
Me: I work for the Secret Service.
Jessica: No you don't.
Me: Yes, I do. Right now I have Malia detail. (I rolled my eyes as if to say, "And you know how that goes.")
Jessica: You're full of it.
Me: (Cracking a smile and laughing at my stupidity.) Okay, I actually wipe asses for a living.

As we're walking home, one of our party loudly announces, "WTF means What the Fuck!, not What the Fist!" And now you know as well.

Tomorrow: Will six jackasses make it to the bar by 6 AM?


Coby Goesling said...

Somehow, you make cussing sound wholesome and poetic. Freakin hilarious!

Corrie Howe said...

Welcome back. Sounds like a good time. Can't wait to hear more.

won said...

It was not the disclaimer about the F word that had me concerned. It was reading "and it was on..." in regards to Karaoke.

I was hoping it was going to end well!

Glad you had a great time.

Melani said...

Sounds like you had a blast! Although I may not know anyone you went with, your writing makes it so enjoyable to read, I get the feeling I was there, LOL well, ok maybe not, but really it takes me out of the drama in my head and that is GOOD even for those few minutes I get to play on the computer, before the kids I babysit get here! THanks for sharing and I look forward to more!

Stephanie said...

Oh my gosh ... I SO want to hang out with you. :-)