Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Every New Year's eve, my parents kid me about my plans, warning me not to drink too much and to be safe getting home. In general they make my life sound far more dangerous and exhilarating than it is. I mean, yes, the party was in Bushwick, which has some bad parts, and yes, there was alcohol and possibly something else involved, but there is no doubt that my friends and I have finally crossed that intangible precipice that separates youth from old farthood. Here's proof: take a dozen intelligent twenty-somethings, feed them lots of beer, and see what they talk about. Here are some highlights from my New Year's Eve (which, by the way, was awesome despite the fact that I am old):
1. An impassioned debate regarding Babe: Pig in the City and its artistic merit;
2. An impassioned monologue comparing Rubick's Cube to Simon, ending with the sentence "Simon can kiss my ass.";
3. The unprovoked assertion that "Elizabeth Kucinich is my kind of woman.";
And there were Rice Krispies Treats for snacks. So don't worry, Mom and Dad. I'm not getting into any trouble. And I'm not voting Kucinich, no matter how hot his wife is.