Last night my friends and I went out for Halloween and this is how that went:
- We called for a cab at 10 pm because we’re idiots who forget that it was Halloween weekend and also this is Minneapolis and cabs are like rare treasures when you need them around here.
- We waited for two different cabs until 11:15. Rylee was asleep on the couch. I told Colleen to call back cab company #1 and give him a piece of our minds. She was like “Hey, are you ever coming, because it’s been an hour?” And I hissed “COLLEEN!” and then she got pumped up and ended the phone call on “Whatever!” I don’t know how that guy got over it!
- We went to First Ave and there were soooo many teenagers. And so much house music, and all we wanted was something dirty. Specifically, Dirrty. It was a mess. Rylee and Colleen got shots, but I couldn’t do it. Colleen’s almost made her cry. It took her three times to swallow it. We left.
- We walked a few blocks to try to find a bar with better music. We saw lots of costumes (a surprising number of other Mario characters, who we always high-fived) and lots of “costumes” (girls with just, like…little bandages on? Like tiny tiny little things that weren’t even those “sexy” costumes that at least sort of look like what they are, however impractical a construction worker’s uniform that would be in real life? They looked pretty. Whatever, it’s Halloween.)
- We waited in line outside a place in front of a very drunk banana. Banana was like “I KNOW WHO YOU GUYS ARE. YOUUUUU are a DINOSAUR, and you…[to Rylee, who was Toad]…you make me bigger.” We all laughed. And then he was like “SORRY SORRY but haha, yeah, I don’t know which WAY you make me bigger, let me eat you and we’ll find out!!!!!!!!” He was proud and we gave him high-fives, because that was a good one.
- We danced in The New Bar, which was tool-y. We requested “Dirrty,” twice. We were denied, TWICE. What is the world coming to these days?!
- At 2 the bar closed and we walked like a million blocks to the edge of downtown (ok that’s like 8 blocks in MPLS) and tried hailing cabs for twenty minutes before we got one. When we got one, he was nice. He said he was hopped up on Mountain Dew. He howled at the moon.
- It took me nine cotton pads full of makeup remover to get my face off and two thorough shampoos to get most of the red out of my hair. I still have specks in it. I didn’t get to bed until 3:30, which is a time of day I hope never to see again.
Today I’ll be lying on the floor and making cupcakes and eating cupcakes. Then later I’ll be painting a pumpkin like a UFO and watching a scary movie, which is really more my kind of party anyway, apparently. I am just so old.
Things To Do With Jeans That Are Too Tight in the Waist But Fit Everywhere Else
1. Don’t buy them.
1. Buy them online, because stores don’t CARRY tall people jeans because WTF, why are you so tall.
2. Get them, try them on, walk one lap around the house in them and figure that they’ll stretch, because in your entire history of life ALL jeans have stretched, probably more than you’d even like them to.
3. These jeans are nicer than those brands though. Remember how much money they were? Probably worth it though. Right?
4. Wash them. When they’re wet, yank on the waistband. Hang them dry.
5. Try to wear them to class. Ahhhh, tight. It’s a test day. What if you are taking your test and in the middle of it you throw up, or one of your organs becomes dislodged, or your brain gives out, all because of tight jeans? Forget it. It’s ok. We’ll try this again some other day.
6. Try to wear them to class, some other day. Succeed, barely.
7. Pull on the waist band all day, even in class, even though you probably look weird because who puts their thumbs through their belt loops while seated? Ugh you are so weird.
8. Go home. Eat candy.
9. Lament the fact that basically no woman you know has jeans that fit perfectly, it’s always SOMETHING, and why can’t fashion people (designers?) accept the fact that some of us are hipless, assless beanpoles who still have normal size/non-Scarlett O’Hara waists and also 42 inch long legs? Or any other size of body that wants to put itself in jeans but basically can’t without the assistance of tailoring or belts or special pulley systems that I wish were real that could stretch any part of your jeans that needed stretching? Ugh, SOCIETY!!!!!! UGH UGH UGH UGH.
10. Try to pull on the jeans again. Pull so so so so so hard on the waistband. Break the zipper. Where did it go? Seriously…I can’t even…things can’t just disappear.
11. Change into sweatpants. Eat more candy. Grumble to yourself, like this: Aarghsagbargagsargamrmmhaaaggghmmghhhhshhhh.
K:My body is trying to remind me at night that my hormones want a boyfriend. I had a dream that I was dating Ben from Parks & Rec, and then this OTHER guy gave me a flower when I bought a sandwich from him.
R:Well MY body is trying to remind me at night that my boyfriend hates me and never wants to see me again. I dreamt that I went to his house because I found his phone and his aunt was like, "Thanks, but he isn't coming out ever again."
K:Oh no, did you call him this morning? I thought I heard something.
R [eating waffles]:Ugh, yeah. It's just like, when I'm crying for two hours, all I want him to do is tell me that he loves me.
K:Mm-hmm. I know.
R [eating chips and salsa]:Also, last night when I woke up to pee I scared myself because I was like wandering to the bathroom with the lights off and I was like, 'what if this is like Paranormal Activity, and I'm not in control of my body' ?
You know in all the TV shows and movies when a bloody nose is used to signify something BIGGER, like consumption/tuberculosis (Moulin Rouge), or that you have a little chip in your head through which aliens locate you and find you for abduction testing (Taken) ?
I have had two seriously bad bloody noses in the past week, and I’ve had my TB shots, sooooo….
No, just kidding. (Am I???) I am prone to a handful of bloody noses (…gross!) come each winter time because I am a little weakling whose skin rebels to dryness in all forms. In high school this was actually a little bit awesome, because I would get a bloody nose in class sometimes (that part wasn’t awesome) and go to the nurse, who always offered to sign a pass for me to go home. Usually I just told her I’d be fine in 30 minutes to an hour, and I’d lie there on one of the cots partitioned off by curtains, trying not to think about the illnesses of the people next to me. But one time I was like, “Yeah, I don’t know, I think I should just go. Who knows when this will end! I’ll call up my mom.” And my mom was like, “Are you serious?” and I was like, “Mom, the nurse said to just go.” And she was like, “Okay fine, well we can go shopping when it’s done in like twenty minutes.”
And then we went to the Mall of America.
I would say that I miss the days when you could fake sick or leave school halfway through for something like cramps or a bloody nose, but the fact is that I am still in school now and can skip class whenever I like. In fact, I did so yesterday, for no reason. I stayed home and did yoga and ate one thousand chocolate pretzels. (In that order.)
Then, this morning, as payback I think, I got a bloody nose. :(
"2) Birth control pills. NO. They will make me fat; they will make me "spot" (another thing I squeamishly just DON’T LIKE TALKING ABOUT; don’t worry, though, everyone else who works here does); they will give me acne; and quite frankly, they will NOT prevent me from getting pregnant! I know this because IT HAPPENED TO ME™. No, I didn’t take my pills right; I forget things like this unless they are FUN pills, or what I BELIEVE, delusionally, to be a "fun" pill at the time; anyway, the point is, unless a pill gets me speedy or doped up as all hell I will NOT remember to take it, and then I will get pregnant! I JUST WILL. (IHTM™.) 3) The Depo-Provera Shot. Uh-huh. Same concept as the pills, if you get my drift. Egads, but it’s true. 4) Condoms. Nope! As if. I don’t know. I don’t sleep with that many people and so I just don’t do condoms! ARG I HATE TALKING ABOUT MY SEX LIFE; LET’S END THIS."
Shit like this makes me VIRULENTLY angry because this is the product of our failure to educate people on sex and birth control.
When I was in college and involved with the Feminist Majority Leadership Alliance, we brought these teen volunteers from Planned Parenthood to campus to host an information table called “Spring Break Safety” to get everyone ready to go for their/our spring break escapades, and they basically taught everyone 3-5 years older than they were everything we should have always known about birth control. They were amazing.
If you’re an ignorant and irresponsible person who plans to write an article about birth control anyway, talk to literally anyone who has volunteered or worked for Planned Parenthood and s/he will gladly inform you that yes, having sex while taking the birth control pill incorrectly CAN get you pregnant (no fucking way!) and no, “not having sex with that many people” is not a reason to shun condoms and that Plan B is called Plan B for a reason.