I was with my friends in another city when we happened to walk past a technical school with a bunch of teens hanging out on the front stoop and shooting baskets in the quad.
“So it’s not a university?” one of my friends asked. “It’s just a high school?”
“Well, technically,” I said.
Yep. That was it. I immediately announced to my well-wishers and the legions of adoring fans that tend to congregate wherever I am that they could consider this my retirement from comedy. Having told the greatest joke that I or anyone else would I ever tell, I no longer saw any point in continuing the charade. To this day I consider it my greatest achievement.
Is there anything better in life than cultivating an obsession and then dragging your friends down with you?
I’ll answer that. No. No, there isn’t. There is nothing as gloriously satisfying as introducing someone to something and watching it slowly consume them. Soon they know all the actors, and they’ve watched all the behind-the-scenes footage, and then they’re knee-deep in fanfiction at 3 AM on a Tuesday and they’re sending you messages like this:
In this particular case, I sat back, stunned, and realized… yes. It was all my fault. As with most things, I hadn’t meant to do it. But I wasn’t sorry.
The end of winter is in sight. I can feel it. Now, odds are it’s going to snow again, and I’m going to feel very silly. I shouldn’t fall into this trap every year. But right now it’s a balmy 45 degrees, and as far as I’m concerned that means spring is coming, and the days of frostbite and windchill are behind us.
Did I ever tell you guys about the Bastille concert? Actually, let me pose a follow-up question: did you guys know that Detroit in winter is cold? See, I knew this. Or I thought I did. I thought I was prepared. I had my big winter coat, my boots, my winter hat, my mittens, even a sweatshirt underneath. And I felt slightly ridiculous getting in line for the concert behind people in cute skirts and flowy dresses. A few hours later, however, it would be I who was laughing. Well, not really. We waited in line for three and a half hours when it was -10 degrees out, plus windchill. Nobody was laughing. But I did feel vindicated. I had to give Tara my second pair of gloves because she was suffering, and I can’t even say for sure what the cute-skirts-and-dresses faction did. I spent the whole time facing the other direction so as to shield myself from the wind, so I literally just didn’t see them for a solid chunk of time. The concert venue was downtown, and nearby businesses actually came out with blankets and hand warmers for us because the situation was so dire.
I should also mention that I had the flu. Or, well, I was in denial of having the flu. (This would be confirmed later.) So there were a lot of factors going into this that could have rendered it an entirely unenjoyable experience. However, despite being so cold that I didn’t remove my bulky winter coat until halfway through the concert, and despite being so sick that I had to pull over on my way home, I can say with absolute certainty that that concert was one of the best nights of my life. It’s definitely in the top ten. Bastille was fantastic, and we did a lot of dancing, and at one point I almost got hit with the microphone cord when Dan Smith went into the crowd, so basically it was perfect.
I would do it again in a heartbeat. Maybe without the cold, if we could finagle that. I just put my winter coat away, and I’m hoping I don’t need it again for a while.
I turned 21 last week, which means I now claim legal ownership over the beer in my refrigerator. Here’s the final tally on desserts that I amassed during all the birthday hooplah:
- A pan of cheesecake brownies
- A cookie cake
- A brownie with cookie dough on top (!!!)
- A bag of mini M&Ms from Tara
- Heart-shaped Valentine’s brownies that my brother’s girlfriend made
- Chocolate cookie bombs, which were balls of cookie dough inside a layer of brownie INSIDE a casing of CHOCOLATE (ASDGKDHGDKL)
- Two giant cookies that I bought for myself, unaware as I was that a veritable hurricane of sugar (see above) was on its way
My roommate and I went home for the weekend, which I tried to call my Birthweekendday, but it didn’t catch on even a little bit. On Valentine’s Day Tara and I played a really cutthroat game of Monopoly with my brother Alex and his girlfriend. I was just on the verge of expanding my empire and unleashing HELL when Allison arrived, and she put a stop to it. (I guess it was for the best.) We then went out for dinner and a stand-up comedy show. (The comedians were from LA, so they made a lot of jokes about snow and potholes.) The next night, my mom made me breakfast for dinner (I WAS IN HEAVEN) and then Allison and Holly took me to a bar downtown. I’m not going to lie here, it did get pretty wild. We left the bar after a bit and went to Burger King, where we were told we had to order and leave because the dude manning the frying pans had to go pick up his daughter at 11:30 (seriously) (and we weren’t even surprised… this has happened before) so we took our food from that Burger King to the other Burger King. We even ordered more food. We’re not assholes. The only thing weirder than going to a Burger King already laden with Burger King food is doing that and then not buying anything.
I don’t feel very different, being 21. However, I seem to have missed my window of opportunity for fleeing from busted frat parties and jumping fences and going on some kind of drunken excursion in the woods. Teen movies told me this would happen. Teen movies lied to me.
I have a lot of misdirected enthusiasm. I babbled incoherently to my mom for roughly twenty minutes because Bastille is going to be giving a concert near me. I freaked about the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them movie to my friend who doesn’t care about Harry Potter because she just happened to be there when I found out about it. But it was last night that I realized I really need to start learning my audience.
Me: DUDE YOUR SCHOOL IS GOING TO THE FUCKING ROSE BOWL!
Tara: I would not have even known that was a game that was happening had it not been for the nonstop screaming that is going on outside my window right now.
Me: I’ll bet everyone is going apeshit.
Tara: It’s been ten minutes and it’s still going.
Tara: And like three sirens have gone past.
Me: You guys haven’t been to the Rose Bowl in like twenty-six years!
Tara: That’s exciting I guess.
Me: And you’ll probably be playing the Stanford Christmas trees or whatever the hell they are, so it’s going to be a GAME.
Tara: …Rose Bowl is football, right?
See? I can be a Michigan Wolverine and still bleed green. I grew up a State fan! I just happen to go to, you know, the other school. Besides, we have a common enemy. You should have seen this coming, though, Buckeyes. No team as awful as ours should have gotten that close to beating you. I mean, jeez.
I was recently persuaded to download that trivia app, QuizUp, and it was a costly mistake. I swear I haven’t done any homework since I downloaded it eight hours ago. CUE THE FLASHBACK.
Me: I just got it
Me: I immediately started playing, just dove right in
Me: My roommate just heard me yell “SHIT”
Me: I think I accidentally unfriended you?
Me: Hypothetically, how would one change their location on this thing?
Me: Or rather, change it BACK
Me: Because it says I’m playing from American Samoa
Me: This all happened within five minutes of me downloading the app
Tara: Elodie, what the HELL
Tara and I then embarked on a furious battle of Harry Potter trivia knowledge that got more and more intense, with the result that we were eventually hitting buttons and choosing answers before we had even processed the question. At one point Tara said Harry’s aunt’s name was Pam.
Tara: I don’t even want to talk about that one.
Me: We all have regrets.
Tara: I thought they were going to ask me about Marge so I freaked out when I saw all the P names.
Me: You don’t have to explain yourself to ME, I said James Potter’s nickname was Padfoot.
SOMEONE HELP ME. I WAS HAVING ENOUGH TROUBLE DOING PRODUCTIVE THINGS EVEN BEFORE THIS CAME INTO MY LIFE. NOW I AM TRAPPED. FOREVER. I’VE ALREADY ACCEPTED DEFEAT.
Tara is coming to visit this weekend. We’re planning on seeing Thor 2 and Catching Fire, then marathoning our TV shows and playing Mario Kart. This does, however, mean that I am going to have to be responsible for the well-being of someone other than myself. Looking despairingly at my food supply, which consisted of roughly half a jar of peanut butter and a box of macaroni, I decided to go to the grocery store and stock up.
It was at that point that this happened:
That’s just what I get for being responsible.
As it turns out, it wasn’t quite the close call I thought it was. By “stuck at Meijer,” I meant I was stuck in line behind two people who seemed to have amassed half the store in their cart while the two people behind me were loudly and frantically wondering if they had time to get home and take cover. But by the time I had paid, sprinted out to my car, and raced home, the tornado still hadn’t hit.
And it still hasn’t. Maybe it won’t. I hope it doesn’t, because I’ve never been solely responsible for my own safety in a tornado before. I prefer having people in charge tell me where to hide.