Thursday, June 28, 2012

Magic Maverick and Malibu, or Eternal Rain of the Spotted Mind, by Allison

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has always been one of my super favorite movies, and the poem from which the title comes, Eloisa to Abelard (?) is lovely, and makes me extra happy because it explains why I love rain so much -
I have a spotted mind.

Yet another reason I need an intern is to Tide to Go my spotted mind.

Especially particular spots, like the one that is surfacing in my head as I prepare to go to fun Girls Night tomorrow to see that Magic Mike movie.

 I love Girls Nights, very much, of all kinds
(except craft ones, but nobody would ever invite me to a craft night because I would ruin it)
and am most excited.

But for this Girls Night, I am more excited about the hanging out with friends part than the movie.

And now is the part where everyone calls me a big fat liar, but I swear,
although I cannot deny appreciating aspirational abs,
none of those guys is on my list or anything.

My particular fantasy creation would be less pretend firemen,
and more like a dim, slightly decaying bar .
with a bunch of lanky, floppy haired, British musician guys with guitars,
brooding and writing songs about me.

Also there would be champagne and green tea and jewelry,
and we could throw in the Argentinian polo player, if he was in formal wear,
and not the kind that velcro rips off,
because what if I want to go ballroom dancing?

So, Hollywood, please make that a movie starring me ASAP -
 and I have some really good ideas about casting.

 But tomorrow night's Girls Night will be fabulous,
I will have a ball, but I may need that intern with the bleach pen,
as movie may summon memories of a very spotted mind situation with this particular genre of entertainment back in college.

Here is the part where I say:
To my college landlord and any relatives of mine, this did not happen, I am making this up.

the reason this whole thing went down at my apartment was because  in college,
I was in a sorority and we had a lovely house that seniors lived in,
but one of the house rules was that we couldn't have parties with alcohol there.
(Note: This was not always the case,
we had a library with scrapbooks from yesteryears and the ones from the '70's were basically full of girls doing keg stands)

Of course, there were loopholes,
like we could use money for parties with fraternities and give them "social fees" -
was Beer Money.

I mean, the rule-makers could pretend it was for the fraternity to decorate and clean up,
but ha, ha.
Beer Money.

 But we could not throw a big old party at the sorority house
(But, Note: Pre-parties we could have,
and is pre-party not the most ludicrous term ever?
You are drinking Captain Morgan and pineapple juice listening to MTV Party To Go Vol. 2,
it is a party)
so a decision was made to host a friend's 21st birthday party at our apartment,
since we had no such rules.

 I swear,
I do not remember how the birthday party came to involve two male strippers,
and I do remember thinking,
how do we know they won't be murderers or gross looking?

This was before Al Gore invented websites,
so it was the phone book, I guess?

But whatever, there were a bunch of us,
and somehow I did not believe two male strippers were going to show up at my apartment anyway.

I seem to get myself into situations where I think,
well, this won't really happen . . .

Yeah, right.

Of course, the male strippers DID show up.
 Their names were Maverick and Malibu.

So just right there,
I am toast, in hysterics,
plus they had hair like the ladies on Dynasty,
and were wearing high waisted acid wash jean shorts.

So it is all awkward,
and then they go in MY room to change.


At this point,
I am realizing I so did not think this through,
why doesn't my apartment have a back door,
please do not let them do anything yuk to my room.

 And they come out,
and we sit down, in my living room,
which reminded me again that I am an idiot and we should have gone out instead,

But the aforementioned Maverick and Malibu are good-natured fellows,
and they danced all around,
and I am pretty sure we all were like, ok, we get it,
stay where you are.

And they seemed disappointed that no one was hanging from the ceiling,
but birthday girl had fun, nobody lost an eye,
it was PG rated,
maybe PG-13 at most and that would have been for language (ours)

BUT get this?

After their dance or whatever,
they say "whoever wants to take this further, we'll be in there."

And I am like
"NO, you will NOT,
that is MY room!!!!!
Nobody wants to go in there with you!

 So they left, and it was even more fun,
because then we could laugh about that as well as have regular birthday party college fun.

And to this day, I giggle about the whole thing, because really?

 Maverick and Malibu?

You could not make that up.

But because of that experience,
I am afraid the Magic Mike movie may trigger flashback hysterical laughing,
and that would annoy my friends trying to peacefully enjoy the eye candy,
and that is why I need an intern,
that particular spot should probably get cleaned up.