Tuesday, September 18, 2012

On Pinterest and Friends and Beer, Briefly

I swear to God, if I Mod-Podge one more thing in my house, Sean will have me committed.

After spending the past year or so in complete, blissful oblivion, I have discovered Pinterest and now there is not an inanimate object that is safe from being organized, containerized, or embellished. It is slightly fucking ridiculous.

I have found myself uttering the words, 'oh, I bet I can make that!' and, 'oh, I bet there's a pin for that!' enough times that it's become embarrassing. I am not a crafty person, and I'm a cheapass to boot, so the fact that I am spending more time at Michael's than anywhere else is frightening. Frightening.

If I start wearing clothes from Coldwater Creek and join a Saturday morning mall walking group, y'all promise me you'll do something.

In an effort to combat all this age appropriate behavior, I have had more Coors Lights in the past five days than in the past five years. We had a visit from one of Sean's childhood friends, a man who shared the house we first lived in together, along with a few other people. It sounds suspiciously commune-esque, but it was really just a bunch of broke kids, flexing the muscles of independence. In my case, only about four blocks away from the safety net of my parents' house.

I keep finding these people from my past popping up, inserting their forty-something year old selves into my memory of them at twelve or twenty. Hiding a familiar laugh or gesture behind unfamiliar wrinkles, jobs and families.

I sat at a table of women at brunch a few weeks ago. We were all friends thirty years ago, reunited by the magic of the internets. That one there - she made a penis out of a pair of panty hose stuffed with cotton, and inserted into a Downy bottle. Now she's an educator, molding young minds the way she once molded that hosiery dong. The one across the table, the one in finance, was so in love with a certain member of Duran Duran that she openly wept on his birthday every year. When we were twelve, these are the girls that I thought were the smartest, the funniest, the awesomest.

They haven't changed.

Maybe I haven't either.

I have more responsibilities, and rules, and worries and fears. But really, I'm still twelve, and twenty. I still think farts are funny and I dance like I'm lithe and lovely, not sagging and sweaty. And when a visiting old friend cracks a Coors Light at 10 in the morning and says, 'Want one?', I - after confirming the presence of a responsible sober parent in the house - reply,

"Hell, yes."

13 comments:

  1. I have had an awful day, but it is all OK because you said "hosiery dong." I will murmur that for the rest of the evening and every goddamned thing will be just fine. And all the rest of this shit is true, too. Thanks.

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  2. I really love this post. Well said-as usual!

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  3. Can I please get a pin with picture instructions on how to make a hosiery dong?!

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    1. I can only imagine the surge in blog traffic a pin like that would generate.

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  4. Old friends who shared secrets you've long since forgotten are the BEST. Thanks for a beautiful post reminding me. To stay the hell away from Pinterest until after my dissertation is completed.

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    1. I have been sick much of the past week. It has been a forced pintervention, sorely needed. What is your dissertation on? That makes you sound smart, by the way.

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  5. Really love the line:
    "I keep finding these people from my past popping up, inserting their forty-something year old selves into my memory of them at twelve or twenty. Hiding a familiar laugh or gesture behind unfamiliar wrinkles, jobs and families."

    Great post, as usual.

    xxo
    MOV

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    1. Thanks, MOV. Isn't it funny, how in a small gesture, you can see the person a person used to be?

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  6. So what's wrong with Coldwater Creek? (;

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  7. Let us never speak of Coldwater Creek again.

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  8. Yes, perhaps we could all use a little less Coldwater Creek and a few more hosiery dongs in our lives. It might not change the world, but it would sure as shit change my mood. :)

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    1. There is absolutely nothing wrong with Oldwater Creek. My mom loves that place. ;)

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  9. Put. Down. The modpodge.

    The cat/dog/guinea pig/turtle is NOT a project. While she/he MIGHT look better with a nice gingham pattern, it will end disastrously.

    Not that I know from experience.

    A very old friend of mine is getting married in a month. I look forward to seeing everyone at the bridal shower more than the wedding... some of these people I haven't seen since high school. I wonder what memories will float to the surface...

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