Just DANCE Dance dance….

Last Saturday night was the heralded sophomore “Spring Fling” at Forth’s school. This year he was “lucky” enough to organize the event and I was “lucky” enough to volunteer to attend.

The previous evening, Forth brought home a flashlight/breathalyzer to use at the dance, should we suspect any of the underage kids to be a little crunk. He held it in front of my face for awhile as I was enjoying a whiskey and coke and playing Guitar Hero, wondering why on earth he needed a gigantic flashlight. It then flashed red and beeped and apparently I failed the high school drunk test. We didn’t need to use it at the dance, unfortunately, but it was extremely amusing nonetheless.

Unlike the Halloween dance, the majority of sophomore boys and girls danced in fun, jumpy groups with their short sparkly dresses and those’ stupid Kanye-flippy-windowshade sunglasses, instead of in these little intimate boy/girl combos. Of course, the girls are still stick-thin and unappreciative of their perfect, tiny bodies, bytheway. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if they don’t watch it, they’re not going to be able to wear those short skirts for long. At least some of us realize this. *Sniff.

However, there were two couples in particular that needed to be watched, which actually made me feel pretty sorry for the duos. Like, how hard up are they for alone time that they literally need to suck face in the middle of a group of adolescents with adults peering in on their every move?

After watching these two couples steal kisses, then proceed to full on make-out, Forth reluctantly walked over to one of them and tapped the girl on the shoulder, warning them that they had better not make him disrupt them again. I would have rather used more force, wit, and embarrassment in the situation but, of course I wasn’t in charge. Later on, I formulated a method of punishment for the the wayward harlequins and scheming lotharios: bringing in their parents and instating a rule that for every kiss, ass grab, slip of the tongue, pelvic grind, or whatever else the two kids performed with each other, they’d have to sit and watch their parents do the very same–I mean, how gross could that possibly be for a 16 year-old?

On the other hand, after experiencing this week’s entire Hip/Hop/Rap Top-50 list, I realized how cruel it is that all the DJ plays are these songs that do nothing but promote the fiery magnetism of junk-to-junk friction. It’s like three and a half hours of rhythmically Ebonicized taunts: “Grab the bottle of Bacardi and tap that ass, but don’t–because you shall receive detention.” Bwhahahaha.

In other news, if I ever do another dance again–which I doubt (not one that I have to wait for Forth to pick up after anyway)–I will start confiscating every feather boa and said pair of stupid slatted sunglasses that the kids bring in. It’s dumb. It’s tired. And something else too–why do they save all the “white music” for the end? It’s all rap and R&B until things wind down, and then it’s Zac Efron Lady GaGa and Taylor Swift. On the same note, why are all the slow songs at least 10 years old? The two slow songs I remember were Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” (1998) and the song that needs to die a slow, slow, agonizing, and possibly deformative death: Edwin Mcain’s “I’ll Be” (1997). These kids were what, four or five years old when those came out? There has to be at least 20 quality slow-dance songs since then to trump that crap.

Though Forth didn’t slip any Kings of Leon onto the night’s playlist for me, the DJ did bust out my beloved Flo Rida, and I wanted nothing but to jump into the mass of pubescence and rock along with them, but unfortunately that wouldn’t have been socially acceptable. Instead, I wallflowered as usual and continued to play the role of fascinating anomoly–even still I’m unsure as to when girls are going to quit being so preoccupied with Mr. Forth’s bethrothed. Honestly–just move along, ladies. Nothing to see here.

**Back.

I Got Nothin’

The last month has been crazy with the onset of lacrosse season and the perpetual grading of papers, so I leave you with a bit of late night TV to enjoy.

As well as the reverb:

~Forth

Facebook for Dummies.

What the hell is up with all the extra-annoying Facebook crap lately? Seriously—first it was that stupid 25 Things note, then all the forward-esque notes about your spouse and being a mom and memories and blah blah. Now it’s that stupid tag-your-friend picture with all the little colorful characters. Oh, Brad is the “tiny, dangerous one.” How flipping cute. With all this ridiculousness in mind, I’ve decided to make a list of the top 10 most annoying Facebook statuses.

10.) The Countdown—Simple enough: “Back is **8 DAYS!!!!**”

Uh…8 days till what? Do I care? Probably not. Do I know you well enough to care? Probably less likely than caring. Do you need to find something else to do besides count your days? Probably. Am I guilty of posting such a status in the past? *Sniff. Yes.

9.) The Drunken Proclamation—“Back is totalllllly waaastedgh you guysshh omgz.”

Wow, look at you. You’re drinking. You’re so clever that you found a way to get your hands on some booze even though you’re NOT 21. You’re so cool. SO awesome. Have I done this one too? Probably. In not so many words.

8.) The Song Lyric—“Back is I won’t tell you that I love you kiss or hug you cuz I’m bluffin’ with my muffin.”

Shut up. We already know you have shitty taste in music thanks to your profile.

7.) The Home-From-Work Announcement—“Back is relaxing after a busy day at work.”

Yep, you and like, 275 million other Americans. Pour yourself a glass of pinot noir, turn on Dancing With the Stars, and go to bed at 9 p.m. Way to live the dream.

6.) The Cliché Catchphrase—“Back shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.”

How original. Before that were you Bond. James Bond? Or did you have a case of the Mondays? A motor-boatin’ sonofabitch? Do you love lamp? Have sweet nunchuck skills? Can you haz cheezburger? Enough. Please?

5.) The Verb—“Back is.”

This is just like a stupid attempt to seem philosophical when really you were changing your status and left it blank by accident. The end.

4.) The McLovin’—“Back is loving this slice of cheesecake.”

You’re loving Twilight. You’re loving Brad Pitt. You’re loving these new shoes. Okay, cool: then try and find a more creative way to say it, preferably one that doesn’t sound so sorostitute.

3.) The Weather—“Back is FREEZING and has had it with all this snow.”

Yes, we all are. Congratulations on choosing to comment on the single most clichéd topic of conversation ever. Get over it, or move to Florida.

2.) The ♥ —“Back ♥s her girls.”

No. Just…….no.

1.) The Mommy Update—“Back is sad that her Spawn has a cold “

Awesome—someone had sex with you, and you gave birth. I’m sure your kids are super-duper and it’s cute to hear about them once in awhile, but seriously. We truly don’t care if your little ejaculation slept 8 hours, is onto eating real cereal, or spit up all over their Target onesie. It’s like waving a virtual wallet-full of kiddie pictures in front of our faces ALL THE TIME.

Okay, so I dumped in an extra tablespoon or two of Bitch, but that’s what stress will do to a person.

Fin.

**Back.

The Electoral College

A few friends were having a “talk” about the Electoral College and one mentioned it to me.  Forth being Forth, I went out and compiled some numbers for you to toss around in your head.

Largest 10 States Estimated 2008 Population 165 million

Smallest 10 States Estimated 2008 Population 8.724 million

California is the largest with 36,756,666 million people.  They have 55 Electoral College votes.
Their population per Electoral College vote is 664,604.

Wyoming is the smallest with 532,668 people.  They have 3 Electoral College votes.
Their population per Electoral College vote 174,277.

The difference between the largest and smallest state today there are 36.224 million people.

The Electoral College has been in place as we know it since 1804.

The population in 1804 of the nation was somewhere around 6 million and there were 17 states.

Virginia had the most electors -24 votes- with a population of 807,557
Their population per Electoral College vote was 33,648.

Delaware and Ohio had the least -3 votes- with populations of 64,273 and 45,365
Their population per Electoral College vote was 21,424 and 15,121.

The difference between the largest and smallest state today is 762,192 people.

The executive summary goes like this: When the US adopted the electoral college system the largest state was only about 3/4 of a million larger than the smallest.  Each electoral college vote in Virginia represented only half of the population that it did in Ohio or Delaware.  Now the the votes of California only represent 1/6th of what they represent in Wyoming.

Now of course, California gets a lot more attention than Wyoming but does that seem fair either?  The system seems off.  I’m not proposing we go straight popular vote (though that does seem to be the conventional wisdom when it comes to changing the system) but I am saying we should have another look at it.

My argument is this:  the system seems to have been designed to prevent the country from going to far too fast; it has also allowed the minority -that is frequently belligerent in this day and age- to hold hostage necessary and dare I say intelligent reform.  Since the less-populated more rural states tend to be more conservative, the system is biased towards the status quo.  This, at times, has been beneficial, but as the majority of the American populous moves towards the cities it is also creating a disparity in voting power which I find unacceptable.  It is theoretically possible for a bill to have a large majority of the American people’s support yet fail in the Senate where rules much like the Electoral College give far more power to the smaller states than is necessarily equitable.

Am I in favor of the little guy having little or no say? Of course not.  But at the moment, the little guy has WAY too much of a say.  Sometimes we hear too much from a minority that isn’t 35 or 40% of the population but is more like 10% of it.  As Ike once said of a small majority that felt Social Security should be done away with “their number is negligible and they are stupid.”
~Forth

I-94 W.

Last weekend, I returned to Minneapolis: the location of the optimistic start to my college career, the height of my days of independent living, and the cold, miserable drudgery that forced me home to greener pastures.

I’ve gotta tell you: I was stoked for the car ride. I used to make that 5.5 hour bitch at least once a month for two years and I had my playlist all picked out, my coffee mug at the ready, and visions of gas station doughnuts in my mind. Of course when I took off at 7:30 in the morning, my car encapsulated in a block of ice, I realized a few miles out of the city that my cruise control had broken, and my windshield wiper blades were too frozen to even bother sweeping away the slush, salt, and melted snow leftover from the previous night’s storm. Fan-tastic.

However, I did not let that deter me. I got my black-booted right foot situated in the most comfortable pedal-to-floor position,  gave myself a great impromptu concert featuring all of my current favorite songs, and did not mind pulling over to wipe the crust of salt off my windshield every half hour or so. Unfortunately, when I reached the longest stretch of the trip, between Eau Claire and St. Paul, I was forced into bored, random thoughts of which celebrities I would want to adopt me if I was a wayward orphan. Immediately Samuel L. Jackson popped into my head for a dad, but I couldn’t pick a mom that I wouldn’t either A.) Want to be best friends with or B.) Have wayward lesbionic thoughts about. Instead, I decided on Honor Blackman circa. 1965 in Goldfinger. Afro Samurai and Pussy Galore? Quite the pair.

Not much had changed along the highway in a year. There was considerably less construction and a huge new hotel outside of Eau Claire, but otherwise pretty static. Of course, the Twin City skylines were familiar scenes, and boy was it good to be back. I believe my relationship with Minneapolis is like that of a woman with a pair of insanely hot high heels. You put them on at the start of the night: you look great and feel like you can take on the world. But by the end, you have five blisters, your legs hurt, and you never want to wear them again. Yet the next time a special occasion rolls around, you dig them out of the closet with undaunted enthusiasm.

I love and hate that city.

What was different about this trip was the number 21. As in, age 21. What was also different was that one of my best lifelong friends transferred to the U after I left, and thus gave me an intense sense of comfort and familiarity in a place I used to simply not fit into. Together “Xenia” and I visited my old coffee shop where I met up with old friends, was recognized by old regulars (wtf, right?), had a mini-party in the old house where I used to live with one of my bridesmaids who still lives there, and drank up a storm in Dinkytown. As I sat in the Library and downed a Long Island with Xenia, I looked at all the UMN memorobilia on the walls and felt a twinge of regret about leaving.  I remember driving up to the city on moving day, 9/4/05 and looking at the skyline with all these romantic freshman thoughts in my head–I specifically said to myself, ” This place knows where you’re going to end up. Who you’re going to be, what you’re going to see, and who you’re going to meet.” Kind of lame I know, but it was a big life day, okay? And as Forth and I drove away from the city on 12/15/07 in our loaded vehicle caravan, I couldn’t even look at the skyline in the rearview mirror. I had conceded defeat and was retreating tail between legs.

However, when Sunday morning rolled around, city seen and fun had, I was eager to toss the empty whiskey bottle into the recycling, pack up, and head home. A ton of fun was had, and what’s the point in sticking around if visiting is so fucking awesome? As far as the Minne-apple goes, I enjoyed the dance, but simply have to give my feet a rest until the next time around.

**Back.