Days That Drag

Hello sunshine nuggets! I've decided to Maintain a Monday/Wednesday update schedule for the bog this semester. And I'm primarily posting today in order to maintain this proposed rhythm. Somehow I find myself sick. I'm entirely mystified as to how this happened. I woke up feeling fine, which transitioned into a runny nose that I blamed on seasonal allergies and the like, which continued to develop into a headache / delusional fever. Just ask Anyone who was in the retreat at 8PM tonight. I was a mess. In light of my ailment I am going to strive for the usual standard of excellence that this blog upholds and I hope I succeed.

Just a bit more business, and then on to the fun stuff. I promise. Another motivating factor for this post is that I have a tentative (but really it's going to happen) column that will hopefully appear in the next issue of the Misc. I love the misc, and I think everyone should try to hate on them a little less about the back page. I was never offended by the back page, but I didn't think it was anything too special either (Bring on the Howlers). Besides, my column will fill any void left by the absence of the back page and then some. Anyway, I am forcing myself to write, because I owe Ruby some words and I'll be pulling a section or amalgamation from this post as my first offering. I hope that's ok. I promise it's not laziness it's just that anything that goes in the misc. under my name is expected to be blog worthy as well.

One final bit of house keeping. I mentioned a third story that was meant to be included in last Wednesday's post. I don't think I'm going to get around to that. If you must know what it was just ask me about the bat shit crazy girl from Metaphysics. Basically, the story is so heinous that I blew my story tellers wad far to early and told too many people already to make it worth my while to type it out. Essentially, It's old news. Thyme to move on.

Alright, on to the meat and potatoes!

Saturday: Everything has a green sequinned lining

I met Saturday with a bright face, eager eyes, and a few butterflies in my stomach. It was a momentous day in the life of Mitchell. After being unable to audition for a single comedy or a cappella group last year due to my cousins bar-mitzvah, I was ready to bust down doors and claim my spot among the musical and comedic elite. Unfortunately Things did not go exactly according to plan. Despite my heart wrenching, tear jerking rendition of Alicia Keys' "If I Ain't Got You" and my side splitting comedic performances (not sooo much on that front, but I tried and they should have seen my raw and unbridled potential) I received zero call back. I can't say it made me want to do cartwheels, but I got over it. Besides, as a strong, independent woman, I don't let anything get me down. I'm also confident in my ability, and have always considered myself more of a solo act.

Of course my entire day wasn't mired in loss and rejection. Thanks to a certain in-your-face, larger-than-life, alter ego of mine, I was able to pull through the day. That's right fellas, Medea was out to play! Meeee-Yow! Not unlike myself, Medea is also an aspiring vocal artist, and she knew an opportunity when she saw one. She is no fool. She put on her Saturday best (A knee length couture green sequined gown with an explosion of tinker bell tulle pouring from the hem, and her most demure necklace, which she likes to call the amulet of power.) She hadn't shaved in a few weeks, but she felt good and isn't that all that counts ladies? Can I get an Amen!

Medea didn't want to be in just any a cappella group. Only the best and most historically rooted gaggle of ladies would do. (Despite popular belief, Medea is highly invested in the history of this campus. She's just that kind of lady) If you haven't guessed already, Medea tried out for the Night Owls. after sizing up the competition, she confidently cut the line and strutted straight into the audition room under the premise that she had a gynecologist appointment in the near future and would really need to be on her way soon.

To make a long story short, the bitch was FIERCE! She wowed the judges with her range, vibrato, bravado, and her rack. She was the full package. She sang "Queen of the Night" from Mozart's "The Magic Flute" and was proud and confident that her formal training in Vienna had paid off and then some. Knowing in her heart that she was a Night Owl no matter the outcome of the audition, she sashayed out of Davidson Parlor, looked the competition up and down, and wished them good luck. She's such a good sport like that.

Saturday Part Deux: Adventures in Po-Town or Something of that Nature

After my auditions I expelled Medea from my being, and put her back in her box on top of my wardrobe. The poor dear. We tried to get a double, but Res. Life doesn't seem to recognize my drag alter ego as an enrolled student (Their mistake!). Yeah, Don't get me started on them again.

Anyway, Maddie, Carrie, and I piled into my car (I know you're thinking three people really shouldn't have to PILE into a four door sedan, but then you clearly don't know my group of friends). We made the journey down Raymond Avenue to Baby Cakes, and after a masterful job of parallel parking, we daintily emerged from the car and headed to the cafe that really should appreciate Vassar students a little more than they do, and yet we always go back for more.

Once inside, we immediately proceeded to order. A previous night of debauchery necessitated that Carrie and I would be paying for Maddie's meal. We explained this situation to the waitress who seemed flustered/high/otherworldly and had just the perfect amount of attitude. For whatever reason she was unable to split the bill to our liking, and instead we ended up only paying for Carrie and My meals and calling it even. Score! Of course, our gluttony is only matched by our ability to attract super hot guys, so we decided it was of dire necessity for us to order a large side of fries to go with our delicate salads and veggie burger. The waitress who had previously given us a free meal took this addition to our order with a smile on her face. When I went to pay (With Carrie's V-Card of Course) she emphatically huffed out an "Uh-oh" as she swiped the card. Luckily for us, this Uh-oh worked in our favor. Instead of pressing 5-0-0 and thus charging us 5 dollars for the side of fries, Our Waitress, Lux as her name turned out to be, simply pressed 5 and then enter, effectively charging us $.05. Double Score! If Baby Cakes is one thing, it sure as hell is affordable... if you know how to massage the system.

Our lunch continued in peace until our gorgeous red headed waitress passed by and grabbed a fry from our plate saying "Meow!" as she snatched the golden nugget of fried potato. Feeling indebted to her clerical error, we emphatically encouraged her to eat as many as she wanted. We liked Lux. She politely declined. Of course, this declination was not born of any form of social tact. Instead, she explained, that the Baby Cakes employees were playing their own little version of The Biggest Loser, and the fries weren't doing her any favors. We wholeheartedly understood and supported her in this endeavor and proceeded to devour the entire plate of fries before she could be tempted to eat another.

The meal concluded with the realization that Carrie and Maddie had not received the Iced Chai Lattes that they had ordered at the onset of our dining experience. And believe you me, you don't want to see either of those girls when they don't get their daily dose of Chai. It's messy and horrifying. Lux casually remembers that they are out of Chai, and offers to bring us anything else our hearts could ever even begin to desire. Of course, all three of our minds sped to an image of Lux naked, covered in sushi with puppies kissing her toes, but we figured that was asking too much, and she'd done So much for us already. Instead, we ordered three Diet cokes and called it a successful lunch. Thanks Lux! We love you!

In any other mortal existence, the narrative found above would be sufficient excitement for the day, but when it comes to The Kid with the Light-up Shoes, nothing is ever quite so simple. Next on the agenda was a trip to Starbucks. I wasn't kidding when I said the girls get grumpy without their Chai. Starbucks went smoothly enough, however the fireworks started to fly once we entered the local CVS. CVS at this time of year is a veritable playground. Halloween Candy, Costumes, and Decorations litter the aisles and the usually sterile pharmacy like setting is transformed into an enchanted Halloween Town. Ok, not so much on the magical transformation, but It's still fun to browse. So, while the girls shopped for laaady products, I tried on a few witches hat in an attempt to see which would best bring out my eyes. I decided on an orange and black lace show piece that will be sure to please as Halloween draws nearer.

So, We go to pay, and everything goes smoothly. No cards were declined and Carrie didn't fight too hard against buying me pumpkin shaped lollipops. The Cashier, a lovely woman named Connie whose eyes seemed to dance with the spirit of Halloween and whose smile was as sweet as candy corn (Metaphorically, of course, candy corn teeth would be gross. super gross) would be taking care of us. She and I engaged in some banter as she complimented my purchase and we shared our love for the most fun loving holiday of them all. All was going well, but then IT happened.

Sweet, angelic Connie made a fatal move. A tactic so gross and tactless that the very heavens momentarily wept as the following words flew from her mouth (I still maintain that she was possessed). Connie appraised Maddie, her smile twisted upwards with glee but there was a hint of malice as well. "I see you have picked out your Halloween costume too." Her words were sticky sweet. The seemed to ooze from her mouth, encompassing Maddie in a paralyzing haze. Shock was the only palpable emotion in the entire CVS. Had this seemingly sweet older woman seriously suggested that Maddie's outfit was a Halloween costume? She had.

And may this be a lesson to us all. There is something fucked up about Vassar Fashion.