Thursday, December 23, 2010

How the Struggle Stole Christmas

First of all, I want to apologize to all you, my loyal readers, for my sudden drop off the face of the earth. What with my job and my search for a more interesting job and my life and my search for a more interesting life and all this business with the red and the green and the birthday party for an infant (I don't know why people bother, really, I mean, it's like taking your kids to art museums or Europe or really nice restaurants if they are under the age of 8, they aren't going to get it and they are ruining it for the rest of us. Yes, I just said children ruin Europe, and I stand by that. Fact.) I haven't had a chance to chronicle my struggles, which is a real shame for all of you, as they have been PLENTIFUL. Ah, if we had world enough, and time...but we don't and we live in a culture of speed, so instead of giving you the Russian-classic length story of my comings and goings (and fallings...) of the last month, I'm going to enumerate them in list form for you instead. So sit back, relax, and hunker yourself down for a litany of someone else's bad decisions. After all, tis the season.

My Naughty List:
1. During the whirlwind rush that is Hanukkah (which came way too early this year, I mean, that thing practically arrived before Thanksgiving. Thank you so much, ancient harvest calender, for having me stuff myself with Turkey AND latkes in the space of one week. You're a peach.) I went up to New York for a reading of a new play I wrote. The reading itself was a mixed bag, the good being that I go to hear the play and the bad being that it would of been nice to have people who can actually speak English reading it. But my friend Gabriel (hi, Gabriel!) was in it, so that's a win.

2. In New York, I stayed with my friend Michael (hi, Michael!) in his apartment (tiny by Struggledelphia standards, a veritable Palladian Villa by New York estimates). After running up and down the West side like a maniac trying to see some so called friends (is it too much to ask that people drop everything in their lives and come find me the second I arrive in New York? Oh, it is? Crap.) Michael and I celebrated by making dinner, drinking copious amounts of Trader Joe's Finest vintages and braving the elements to see our extremely white, Jewish, well bred friend Aaron (hi, Aaron!) rap at a bar in the East Village. And you know what? He was secretly awesome. And Michael dropped me on the dance floor. Thanks, buddy.

3. Upon my return to the fair city of Struggledelphia, I found myself at a house party in Fishtown the very next weekend with my friend Kate (hi, Kate!). One look inside the converted garage/performance space/living room up in the heart of blue collar white supremisist Northern Fishtown, and Kate and I realized we were way too dressed up for this. Not only were neither of us sporting awkward facial hair, chunky thrift store sweaters or tights and shorts (no. but we had committed the cardinal sin of cleanliness. If you think about it, there is something really bizarre about the icon of the dirty hipster. Hip away all you want, folks, but if you are going to be in a confined space for any amount of time, at least consider sporting a pinch of deodorant. Isn't that what Toms of Maine is for?

4. Decided that I'm in no place to drink PBR, even if it's meant to be done ironically, I curled up with a hot toddy (nothing says Struggledelphia like a colonial themed beverage) and enjoyed the spectacle and the scream band. After enjoying ourselves for a few hours and bowls of vegetarian chili, Kate and I realized our lack of hand rolled cigarettes weren't making us any friends, so we absconded with our clean hair still intact.

5. The next evening, I won quizbowl. That's right, true story. So despite the fact that my not-Yale education has yet to procure me a job in my field, a handsome and extremely successful trophy husband, OR world dominance, at least I can still earn the respect and envy of my peers by answering questions about Christopher Marlow quotes and the population of Latvia. Happy Holidays to ME.

My Nice List:
1. Um, I give money to same charities....

Oh, screw it, I've got nothing. Happy whatever-the-hell you do this time of year, and be safe. Make me jealous with your New Year's plans in the comments. Me, I'm thinking about renting a movie.