That's What She Said

Debating what time I should drive into the Loop to pick up some plants, while Megan was at work or after, I say to her: I just think it makes more sense for me to come when you get off.

Slam dunk. That's one for the record books. Also, it's a fitting introduction for this commercial I saw in my ad class tonight:

Reason Why I May be Categorized as a Hipster #1: I attended a small liberal arts college. And I have not one but TWO majors the world at large deems useless: Creative Writing & Studio Art (focus in painting, bitches!). Do you know how many years I suffered the "You gonna work at a McDonalds with that there learnin? I'll take fries with that! Hyuk Hyuk! Supersize me! HYUK!" joke? Do you know how many punches I withheld?

And it doesn't stop there. I'm halfway thru my Masters program. In writing. The head shaking at the dinner table around Thanksgiving...the glazing over of eyeballs when I refute Dan Brown... The internal self-loathing at Starbucks today when I recognized the trochaic tetrameter and delightful rhyme scheme of my order: TRI-ple GRAN-de NON-fat LAT-te. I gave a lecture in my head about prosody walking down the street, reminding myself all the time that if I was going to be accepted as a normal human being, I could never utter this lecture to another living human being.

so i might be a hipster. and i'm not proud of it.

Whachu gon' do with all that ass? All that ass inside yo jeans?

Reason #2: Why yes, that was a Black Eyed Peas reference in my blog post. Thanks for noticing.

(Look forward to my companion pieces "Reasons Why I AM A Hipster." Coming soon!)

I discovered something this past summer that changed my life forever. Is that hokey? Sure. Brilliant? Yes. But I deserve some sort of international award for figuring this shit out.

It was Sunday night and the weekend had gone by far too quickly, as usual. However, I realized that I didn’t have the same Sunday anxiety that I normally experience. I tried to piece together why this weekend felt different. I hadn’t done anything spectacularly exciting. And the looming work week wasn’t going to be better than any other. I hadn’t won the lottery or had a massage, but something about how I spent my weekend had calmed my weekly dread that Monday was just hours away.

After I bit more reflection, I realized I had made a momentous discovery, the likes of which should be published and credited to me in every scholarly journal on the planet. I discovered the formula for a truly fulfilling and satisfying weekend. Then I tested it and wrote it down to share, oh so generously, with you lucky bastards.

Step One: Drink.
That’s right, ladies and gentleman, the first and most commonly practiced activity that leads to a fulfilling weekend is getting fucked up. Plain and simple. I’m not advocating two straight days of drunken shenanigans because then you miss out on the other necessary components, but at least one night of blurry, beer soaked fun is imperative for a person to let off a little steam and take a brief mental vacation from reality. If I spend my entire weekend avoiding the juice, come Monday at lunchtime, all I can think about is how badly I need a cocktail. There’s a restlessness brought on by days and days of working and it must be put to rest, doused in alcohol and left to pass out. And if you can craft it so you are drunkity-drunk-drunk but not chillin on the bathroom floor with your new friend Toilet the next morning, you are on your way to an awesome weekend.

Step Two: Do Nothing.
A crucial component of a satisfying weekend is the part where you do nothing. This cannot be overlooked. In fact, write it down. In order to feel truly relaxed and rejuvenated, ready to face another week of jerkoffs riding you, you must spend a chunk of time doing whatever you damn well please. I recommended a minimum of two hours, if possible. However, if you are really good at being anti-social, sometimes you can plan yourself a whole entire day of lazing around the house. Time spent doing nothing comes quite naturally if you participated a little too over zealously in step #1 and your hangover forces you to spend some quality time with your couch (I find it to be more enjoyable, though, if I am not fighting waves of vomit). There is something extremely satiating about answering to no person and no schedule. Don’t even look at the clock. Just let it ride.

{Note: Occasionally, it can get a little boring if the most interesting thing on tv is a VH1 marathon of some sort. So instead, turn on the tunes, sit and listen to an album straight through (I suggest Wilco "Sky Blue Sky" for instance, or Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros "Up from Below" for something a little peppier). A little music therapy can go a long way.}

Step Three: Repent.
The final element to a perfect weekend is the time you spend making up for all the lazy, self indulgent activities you’ve been engaging in. More specifically, it’s accomplishing whatever small or large personal or domestic business you need to take care of but just can’t bring yourself to face during the week. I call it business because it’s grown up stuff. For me, that usually means cleaning, washing clothes and cooking. If I over-caffeinate enough, I can wake up, clean the bathroom, shop and cook for the week, and do a load of laundry, all before my Sunday night tv starts! The bottom line is that no one wants to do this shit. Ever. But if you have achieved steps #1 and #2, the guilt from being an alcoholic slug will motivate you to get all those chores done and give you something to feel successful about. Generally, it also puts you a step ahead for the coming week, which makes Monday that much easier.

There it is, friends. Incorporate these things into your weekend and you can watch the Sunday Surlies melt away.

The Scene: Megan is building a difficult piece of Ikea furniture in the living room. Erin is drinking a whiskey sour nearby and ignoring her cries for help.

Megan: So I couldn't find the hole because the wood is in the way.