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I received a curious text
message from my roommate last week:
“Want to go to the Magic Castle
with me and Stephanie?”
A cultured person not
unfamiliar with the infamous Masked Magician might read that and feel a thrill
of excitement for reasons I will expound upon in a minute.Me?I
thought the Magic Castle was a Disney-themed bounce house and while I have
seriously considered renting a bounce house with a few friends for an afternoon
(tell me that wouldn’t be the best afternoon of your life!), I was
confused.Why a bounce house?Why me?Why now?Would pizza be served?
Several days later she revealed
that the Magic Castle is a magician’s club and, as the people we were with at
the time of the unveiling confirmed, it is private and exclusive and everyone is dying to get an invite.Everyone except me because, let’s be honest,
I was mildly disappointed that the Magic Castle wasn’t a bounce house
emporium.I mean, I enjoy the old
quarter-found-behind-the-ear trick as much as the next person (as long as I get
to keep that quarter – Laundromat prices are going up) but magic is not
generally My Thing.Sometimes magic even
creeps me out a little bit; I think it’s a combination of the flamboyance of
traditional magic acts (see: those two dudes with the endangered cats) mixed
with all of the disappearing and reappearing and sawing people in half and
putting oneself in dangerous situations except, no, it’s okay because I can
pick locks!With my elbow!
My immediate concerns (What
does a girl wear to a private, exclusive magician’s club?Would the audience have to participate?Would pizza be served?) were ignored and
everyone encouraged me to take advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity
to visit the Magic Castle.So I gave in
to the peer pressure and agreed to make an appearance at this SUPER EXCLUSIVE
magician’s club only to find out moments later that the dress code was as
follows:cocktail dresses, elegant skirt
and blouse combination or an evening pantsuit.Elegant skirt and blouse
combo?EVENING PANTSUIT?And then!Then, I read the men’s dress code only to find that jackets are required
unless the man is wearing a turtleneck, bolo tie, or JEWELED OR RUFFLED
COLLAR.Upon reading this, I wanted
nothing to do with the Magic Castle.Abort mission!
My roommate was mad that I
would pass up my chance to experience a super exclusive magic club because of
the dress code.She told me it was lame
to miss out just because I didn’t want to invest in an evening pantsuit and
associate with men dressed in jeweled and ruffled collars.I told her the bolo ties were offensive,
too.She shouted, “I can’t believe you
would say no to a super exclusive magic club.I just want you to go to this super exclusive club.It’s super exclusive.”Up until this moment I hadn’t understood just
how exclusive this super exclusive club was.
Today she was busy texting and
suddenly exclaimed, “TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS for the Magic Castle?!”Faced with shopping for an elegant evening
pantsuit tomorrow I seized my opportunity and said, “That is too much money for
me!Twenty-five to get in, eight for
parking, fifty for a pantsuit.That’s
seventy-five dollars for entrance to this exclusive club.”
Math hasn’t always been a
strong subject for me.
But she got the hint.We will not be gracing the super exclusive
magic club with our presence on Saturday evening.
We will, however, be renting a
bounce house on March 21st for her birthday.
On Saturday I went to my cousin's birthday party at Build-A-Bear.
The sister and I were the only two adults without children so we stood around awkwardly, occasionally whispering to each other, "NEVER take my future child to Build-A-Bear! NEVER!"
They had bear underwear. Bear peep-toe heels. Bear pacifiers and diapers. Chants to make the bear come to life! (My favorite: Pat your behind so your bear will never be left behind. When the crazy Build-A-Bear worker patted her ass my uncle said, "WHAT?!" and I laughed.)
Frightening things are happening at your local Build-A-Bear.
But nothing was more disturbing than this:
A bear with a wig. A red wig. And combat boots.
What 5-year-old wouldn't love that?
Side note: In college (specifically freshman year) all the girls' boyfriends would take them to Build-A-Bear and they would come back with bears wearing fashionable clothing, sunglasses, and named the names of their future children together -- Zachary Andrew Morton, Joshua James Smith, and several Ethans sat on the beds of many of my friends.
I am in Argentina right now, Mar del Plata to be exact, and this is the view from my hotel window at this very moment:
(I did not take this picture, so you can blame Wikipedia for the crappy quality.)
I found the internet, obviously, which is unfortunate because it immediately burst my Argentina bubble and reminded me that I have a life in California where my days are not spent tooling around nice hotels and eating dulce de leche by the spoonful. In California young men wearing top hats and capes don't open the front door for me! Waiters named Nicolas do not pour goblets full of Coca-Cola light, my beverage of choice in South America, and refill them before I have a chance to take a last sip. I do not look out the window to see a killer whale breaching a few hundred yards from the shore!
I have met so many interesting people (including, oddly enough, the commissioner general of the Uganda Revenue Authority who came to Argentina in place of the First Lady of Uganda) and I don't want to go home.
But I will. In a few days.
For now, I eat dulce de leche and watch the killer whales and drink little strong cups of coffee and start saving my money to come back again next year.
1) I chopped my hair off. Well, I didn't chop it, my hair stylist Emily did the cutting and I just sat there and asked her every question I ever had about cosmetology school (I had a lot). Like a big nerd, I had to take my glasses off during the appointment so I didn't know what my hair actually looked like until I got home and looked in the bathroom mirror (although my friend [now my sister's boyfriend, omg, I know, it's weird and I don't like it] said, "It looks FANTASTIC!!" as soon as I walked out of the salon... I wasn't sure what to do with that). So. Anyway. Shorter hair. Not short, but shorter than I've ever had it and I love it.
2) We have a detached garage and the door leading from the backyard into it has a lock but no key. Sunday evening on my way to dinner I attempted to enter the garage and found that someone had locked the door. I stood there dumbly for a few minutes, attempting to turn the knob every once in a while and mentally berating my roommates for locking the damned door because isn't that the ONE thing the landlord said not to do? I asked a friend if he knew how to pick a lock or if he could detach the handle and, finally, in a moment of desperation, I told him to just break it down. We don't need it anyway! He refused. I was ready to give up when inspiration struck. I took the old college id from my wallet (hello, student discounts!) and shoved it between the handle and the door frame and, lo and behold, after a brief struggle the door swung open to the garage and a career in burglary. I would like to thank the television for that idea.
3) I am going to Argentina on Wednesday and I'm excited.
Last week a girl stopped by my office to share some boy drama. I generally discourage such discussions in the work place, especially with someone I don't know very well, but she had some dramaand I made an exception. During our conversation she mentioned that she met a man who she really liked, but there were two problems -- 1) he wears socks with sandals (a deal breaker in my book, unfortunately) and 2) she thinks he is ugly. She showed me his picture and unless I have poor taste in men (and with the exception of Michael Phelps, I don't believe I do), he wasn't ugly at all, but I reserved judgment until I saw him in person.
The next day I saw them walking through a hallway in our building and I made sure to get a good look at his definitely not ugly face. A couple of hours later she found me in the hallway and asked if I had seen him earlier. I told her that I had and then added, "And he is not ugly. Why did you say he is ugly? He isn't ugly at all!" A strange look crossed her face and she chuckled and glanced at the bathroom and back at me and then whispered, "Um... uh, he's right there in the bathroom." The bathroom next to which I was standing. The bathroom from which you can hear what is going on in the hall, including conversations during which you learn that your girlfriend thinks you are ugly because her stupid friend can't keep her mouth shut.
Kill me now.
On Friday I was eating lunch in the break room and the girl showed up and immediately burst into tears, explaining that she broke up with him that morning and she felt horrible about it. There were several people in the room and we all discussed the break up and tried to give her advice and make her feel better. Several minutes later she pulled out her Blackberry and I said, "Oh! I'm thinking about getting one of those, can I see it?" She handed the phone to me and I took a look at it and right when I was reaching out to hand it back to her, my finger touched a button on the side of the phone and the screen lit up. I glanced at the screen and, to my horror, it said the ex-boyfriend's name! I screamed and threw the phone at her and she ended whatever was going on and then she shouted, "YOU CALLED HIM! YOU JUST CALLED HIM! OH MY GOD!!!"
I died right then and there.
The girl asked what I pressed and when I explained to her what happened, she pressed the button and called him again!! Everyone in the break room screamed. EVERYONE. We screamed so loudly that a coworker down the hall came running to see what had happened and, upon learning that I called her ex-boyfriend, said, "Ooooh, that's bad. That's really bad." Thanks. Thank you.
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