Showing posts with label Young and stoopid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Young and stoopid. Show all posts

Aug 2, 2012

The Tsaritsa said... what?


Greetings and salutations, Lady Estrogen readers! My name is Alexandra. I have a blog called The Tsaritsa Sez, and I have a confession to make: I suck at story telling.

Before you click out of this post, please let me clarify: I'm not speaking of my skills in spinning a written yarn, or shooting the breeze with friends and family. My problem is that I can be quite a Nervous Nelly around people who I am just meeting for the first time. I tend to put my foot in my mouth, stutter, say something nonsensical, and generally act like a overly-caffeinated spazoid. It doesn't happen all the time, but it happens enough to be simultaneously frustrating and entertaining.

Just the other day I was trying to describe a funny scene from my favorite TV show, Psych, to my friend Jillian and her friend Anna, who I had only met once before, and I just. couldn't. spit. it. out. I stumbled all over my words, dropped in a lot of "you know"s and "uuuhmmmm"s, and by the time I got to the end I could see that no one really cared or understood what I was trying to convey. Unintelligible-- that's me when I get nervous.

This isn't an uncommon issue. There are plenty of people who get nervous when they have to speak in front of others, which is why improv acting, speech-writing classes, and toast-master groups are so popular, to train people to overcome that anxiety. This might be totally made up, but I heard somewhere that people fear public speaking more than they do death (makes sense, as death is inevitable, but you can sure get out of having to give a speech if you feign a sore throat convincingly enough). 

What is kind of silly about my story-telling flubbage is the fact that I love acting and being on stage. I'm a natural ham.

So what's the problem when it comes to recounting something to a new acquaintance? Maybe it's the close proximity? Maybe I'm worried about how my breath smells? Or maybe it's because I'm too busy wondering if the other person is understanding me correctly and hopefully not thinking I'm a weirdo that the section of my brain that gives me the ability to string together an intelligible and cohesive sentence gets neglected? I have no idea.

One especially funny situation happened when I was fifteen years old and working at the Rita's Water Ice stand on South Street. It was summer, the weather was excruciatingly hot and humid, and there was some big basketball championship going on between the Philadelphia 76ers and the LA Lakers, so there were a lot of people in town, and thus a lot of people perusing the touristy shops of South Street and stopping by Rita's to get a cold treat.

On one of these hot, summer days, I had two guys from Los Angeles come to buy water ice. They told me that they were sports reporters, in town to write about the games, and had never heard of it water ice before but wanted to try it. "It's kinda in-between sorbet and a snow-cone. It's smoother than a snow-cone, but icier than sorbet," I told them. They seemed pleased and picked their flavors, and as I scooped their water ice I tried to think of a funny joke to tell them before they left, you know, just to be fun and give them something to remember about Philadelphia people.

I handed the reporters their ices and, not thinking, said, "Don't worry, I didn't spit in it or anything."

In my head, it kind of made sense. What I thought was implied was: I know you're from Los Angeles and that your city's team is in a big battle with my city's team, but don't worry-- just because we're not rooting for the same team, doesn't mean I would do anything as crazy as spit in your water ice.

It was a pretty dumb thing to say, and might have been funny if I had said it to a friend, but it was not appropriate to say to a stranger, let alone a customer.

The two reporters looked at me, shocked. One of them said to me, clearly disgusted by my attempt at a joke, and said "Great! You didn't spit in it? Is that the slogan here?" I just stared at them with a weak smile,dumbfounded by my own stupidity-- surprised at what I said, and surprised at how they reacted. They walked away with a look of utter horror on their faces.

For reasons which may or may not seem obvious, I haven't told many people this story. I stumble through my words and make bad jokes and say things without thinking on occasion, but this LA/spit ice incident was definitely the worst blunder I've ever made. So embarrassing, which is why I'm telling this story in a guest post.

Thanks for reading! If you like what you've seen so far, please check out my blog. In addition to writing nonsense about the nonsense I encounter, I publish a literary zine and am working on my first hip-hop EP. Much love to Lady Estrogen for letting me share my story on her blog xox

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Thanks so much to The Tsaritsa for hanging out over here this week while I'm slumming it in NYC.
We have been bloggy mates for quite a while now, but it was THIS VIDEO of hers that made me fall in lust. Watch it; so funny! And you'll probably want a peanut butter, Nutella and banana sandwich afterwards - just be warned.

Jul 30, 2012

Get Better

I don't think I've done a Music Monday for about 6 months, gah! Since I've been busy stuffing pocket rocket boxes with my business cards for BlogHer '12, I thought now is a good a time as any. Also? This may not be a new song, but it's new to me and it blew my gawd damn mind...

When music is used as a tool 
to share a vital message about the state of our society, 
(and not just about screwing hos or how much money you have), 
my heart swells with pride. 
And after hearing this, I'm bursting. 

Please watch if you haven't already - 
and if you have children in high school, 
watch it with them!

"..there are other choices --- if you want them, 
You don't have to tow the line and just float with the flotsam, 
You can build your time better when you find a passion, 
The Internet and public services give free education, 
So it really ain't a case of rich or poor, 
It's a case of self-motivation and nothing more, 
Like Billy says, whether you have or you have not wealth, 
The system might fail you, but don't fail yourself, 
Just get better."


Jul 16, 2012

Tat's what I'm talkin' about

As I walked by a late-teen-year-old girl at the movies last night that had the Elvish script from the Lord of the Rings tattooed around her neck, I thought to myself, "Wow, I don't think in over 300 posts I have discussed my thoughts on tattoos!" Well alright then, here it goes...
I lied, actually, that was the third thought that went through my head when I saw that girl. The first one was that her mother probably cried when she came home from the tattoo parlor. The second was, "Oh my god, she's going to regret that in a couple years. Think of her wedding photos... ugh!" I'm not saying that all tats look like shit in a wedding dress... because some look amazing, but a phrase written in a pretend language from a movie across your neck? Umm... no.

And I'm fairly certain it's not my advanced age talking either. I got my first tattoo at 16 (which I got with a forged photocopy of my passport. Ahem), but even then I knew that I wanted to get it in a place that could be hidden for important events, like interviews and *coughs* ...church. But it's true, and you know what? IT LOOKS LIKE MANGLED ROAD KILL NOW, so thank fuck no one except a select few can see it!

I wish my fairy godmother could have popped in for a visit to tell me, "Hell no! Don't do it - in the future you will have 14 pounds of twins which will fuck up your entire stomach."

But alas, she never came.

Look. That's cool if you're in a position where visible tattoos are not an issue, but at 16 or even 20, how many people can possibly know that? Unless you're already a millionaire rock star, not many. And that is the problem! Every teen wants to look like rock star and they aren't thinking about reality. AT ALL. You can get on the defensive all you want and say shit like, "If they won't hire me because of my tattoos, they fuck'em!" but that scrappy attitude ain't going to pay the bills or put food in your future children's mouths.

Ashley, a Reality TV blogger put it like this... young people seem to take the idea of getting a ginormous tattoo all over their body very lightly these days and that a lot of times, people don’t think about what those tattoos will look like when they get old. (Old as in 65, not 30!).

When I was 16, which was almost 20 years ago (holy fuck, yo!) tats were obviously still a "cool" thing to get but it was usually in the form of a little heart on your ass, or a butterfly on your ankle, etc, etc. They were TINY things. Even the design I got on my back when I was 19 (which was NOT called a tramp stamp back then ;) is only 4 inches in diameter but was considered a "big tattoo" at the time.

Now that I'm in my mid-thirties, I don't want to get my tats removed per se, but I do want them fixed, and I am still planning on getting at least one more that is quite a fair bit larger. But I have my career and I've had my kids, and I know what I want and why I want it - which are very sentimental reasons, none of which being: "Like, 'cause they're, like, super cute and I love their band? (insert gum smacks)".

I guess the bottom line is that I think the legal age for getting a tattoo without parental consent should be 25... (as it should be for marriage and joining the army too, in my opinion), so to prevent train wrecks like this:

Source: TheCount.com

Or this:

Source: HollywoodLife.com

Or maybe even this:

Source: Starcasm.net

Let's completely ignore the veiny heart or the cupcakes-as-letters that spell "Booko(?)", or the cursive text that does not adhere to the lined paper whatsofuckingever, and go up to "bullet proof" on her shoulder which I read as BUFFET PROOF.

Sweet.

I wish I was buffet proof too.