Thursday, June 26, 2008


When I was fifteen or sixteen years old my high school held a voluntary trip up to SUNY Oswego so we could "experience college life." Girls thought, "Oh my God! College Guys!" And guys thought, "Sweet! College girls!" And a lot of us also thought, "Hooray beer!" This trip was to take place on a Thursday and Friday, so on top of everything else we would be missing two days of school. Almost the entire grade convinced their parents to let them go on this trip. "We want to see what college classes are like and learn about the application process! We really, truelym desperately want to talk to people who have been where we are now! Our attendance on this trip has nothing to do whatsoever with our desire to attack attractive and older people, nor does it have anything to do with our desire to drink illegally!" We all batted our eyelashes very well.

During the one night we stayed up there very few of us slept, two guys got so stoned they were falling into things, and we drank a lot of beer. (Well, a lot then. I think a guy named Jimmy topped out at three beers and threw up. We were fifteen! Maybe sixteen! Give us a break!) Other NYC public high schools (the private school sect tends to shy away from public universities) were also invited on this excursion, so our pool of potentially attractive people shot up remarkably. A bunch of us were sitting in a dorm room talking when one of the girls, from one of these other schools, while slightly drunk, decided to address the group with a serious inquiry.
"Do you want to go to a urban school or a woo woo school?" Confused glances were exchanged between myself and the other people she was addressing.
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Do you want to go to an urban school or a woo woo school?"
"I..." I paused. "A what?"
"Woo woo! Woo woo! I can't say it right!" She looked upset with herself.
Someone else finally ventured a guess. "Do you mean rural?"
"Yes! Woo woo! That's what I meant!" At which point we all dissolved into giggles. Poor girl.

I got home the next day, absolutely exhausted and damning myself for making plans to go to a rave that night. But I was a raver, and a lot of people I knew were going to be at the party, so I got dressed up in a very silly outfit, far too much plastic jewelry, and about a pound of glitter. (I spent most of my time from the ages of 12-16 absolutely fucking COVERED in glitter. ::barf::) I got to the party at about ten and by eleven thirty I was all tuckered out. So instead of going home like I should have, I simply found a nice corner and went to sleep. At a rave. With music so loud most people were wearing earplugs. But oh no, I just went, "Well this looks nice! I think I'll just curl up...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

I bring all this up because last night my friend Matty and his roommate Jim threw a movie watching extravaganza on their roof. We watched an episode of The Real Ghostbusters cartoon, followed by Ghostbusters, followed by Ghostbusters II. It was really really awesome. I announced to Matty and Jim early on in the evening that I was crashing on their couch because while I only live a ten minute walk away, it is not a ten minute walk I should be taking at one in the morning. Because eek! Scary! So halfway through Ghostbusters II I excused myself to pass out on the couch. I woke up at seven this morning to Matty going, "Sarah! It's seven am, my alarm didn't go off!" (Dude has to be at work ridiculously early.) I gathered my things while he got ready and he goes, "Dude, Sarah. You were OUT last night. We had like twenty people in the apartment and you didn't wake up at all. I kept saying, 'guys, there's a girl asleep on the couch!' and they kept saying, 'She's not awake.'" Because I can sleep through anything.

The reason for this is because when I was growing up, and my parents were invited to a party, babysitters were expensive. So rather than get one, they would simply drag me along for the ride. When I got tired I would go up to one of them and tug on their shirt and say, "I'm tired!" At which point they would direct me to a corner, give me their coat to sleep on and let me sleep. Which I would, quite happily. I have vague memories of being carried out of parties (as a child, people! Come on!) and waking up to say things like, "Oh, are we leaving?" And then waking up in my own bed in the morning. I was actually trained by my parents to be able to sleep through anything. Which might explain my inability to work with alarm clocks. I hear them, but it's just so much easier to keep sleeping. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves