Neither here nor there.
people with money. only people with money
travelling the world, “dropping everything” and moving to another city/state/country, majoring in your liberal arts interest of choice, applying/going to your dream college/university, buying your dream house, working at your dream job, cultivating/building/guiding your own dreams, dreaming. living.
Julie Buntin, who read on our episode 7, has a gorgeous piece up at The Atlantic.(via catapultreads)
Four weeks out: Go on Pinterest. Have dreams of red and blue velvet whoopie pies and individual sangrias in mason jars. Wonder if you should make 200 chicken wings, like your mom used to for cookouts when you were a kid. Decorations? Decorations! God, you love Pinterest. Click click click.
Three weeks out: You have plenty of time. Go about your business. Halfheartedly start writing a menu and a to do list. Work a lot. Ask your husband if you should make 200 chicken wings. He suggests buying platters at Costco and you scoff at him. Come on, you used to be a caterer. Costco. Pfft.
Two weeks out: Go on vacation. Lay on the beach thinking about all the projects you were going to do before the party and how messy your house is. Nothing you can do about it now!
One week out: Come home from vacation and realize how much shit you have to do. Clean the garage and reward yourself with a ‘garage fridge’ in which to store beer and soda and party food. You’re living the middle class dream, congrats!
Five days out: Spend two days frantically catching up on work and cleaning the house and doing vacation laundry. It’s ninety degrees and your AC is broken. In your hot and stressed out state, seriously consider the broken AC karma for buying the ‘garage fridge’. You flew too close to the sun. Remember where you came from.
Three days out: Go to a concert and drink like a woman half your age. This heat is resulting in bad decisions, like frozen Bud Light Razzberitas. In a sweaty drunken haze remember that you haven’t gone shopping yet.
The day before: Go to Costco but forget your list and your shopping bags. Your brain feels like pudding. You manage to remember both the hot dogs AND the buns. You’re doing okay. Stand in front of the pre-made platters for a solid five minutes. Fuck it. Buy a couple trays. Ranch dip is your secret shame, just go public.
The night before: Make your husband go with you to the liquor store. When he asks you what you want, just sigh. Buy wine off the 2 for $10 rack. Nothing is fancy. Fall asleep at ten o’clock. Have stress dreams about your house being filthy and covered in cat hair.
The day of: Wake up at six in the morning. It’s fucking raining. Are you still hungover? Make five pounds of potato salad anyway. Happy Birthday America!
- Me: Hey Dad, I have a question
- Dad: Alright, lets see if it's within my reach
- Me: What do you think of cultural appropriation?
- Dad: what?
- Me: Cultural appropriation.
- Dad: I think you mean acculturation.
- Me: yeah, I do. But I was using the term the Social Justice Morons use.
- Dad: It's a necessary part of being human, you can't just keep the one culture all of your life!
- Me: So how offended would you be if a bunch of white people started speaking Spanish?
- Dad: Offended? I would be glad, at least they speak my language!
- Me: What if a white guy made tacos?
- Dad: what kind of taco? why would I be offended? Did I invent it and patent it?
- Me: Nope, just an ordinary taco made by a white guy.
- Dad: Why would I be offended? It would like a German guy getting offended because I grilled a hamburger
- Me: Well, because it's a Mexican food, it was discovered and is integral to Mexican culture. What if a white person doesn't respect the history of the taco.
- Dad: When the woman who first created a taco did that, did the Angels descend from heaven with a deed and a copyright form signed by God informing us that only Mexicans can make it?
- Me: Nope. It's just a taco.
- Dad: Precisely, it's a taco, eat it. I would actually be happy for that white guy, tacos are pretty good.
- Me: What if Tyler wanted to celebrate El Dia de Los Muertos? On his own?
- Dad: Tell him to pace himself the skulls are made of pure sugar.
- Me: What if he wanted to celebrate El Dia de la Independencia?
- Dad: Culture is not something handed to you by God to protect and nurse, it's just something that happens to you, and when you think you have it figured out, it changes. That's what cultures do. They change. You know what these people are trying to do, right?
- Me: Yeah,
- Dad: They want us all to hate each other and not speak to each other. They want us Mexicans in Mexico, Afro-Americans in Africa, Asians in Asia and none of us talking or being nice to each other. With no resources, no trade, no rights, and only the one language that only we're allowed to speak so that we can't communicate with anyone outside. And that's after they'd kill off all the white people. They're like the KKK, if the KKK didn't have balls.
- Me: I arrived at the same conclusion.
- Dad: Make yourself a coffee.
- Dad: Just be sure it's Mexican *laughs*