Archive for the 'bitching' Category

why I hate Halloween

November 2, 2008

It’s not that I hate fun, or I begrudge people who really and sincerely get a kick out of dressing up. That’s be like traveling back in time and trying to bitch-slap every 19th-century European who enjoyed masked balls. That said, we’ve got problems for the following reasons:

* The idea that (as a friend who invited me to her party said; it was rockin’) people who don’t enjoy dressing up are somehow taking elitism further, disdaining common fun while trying to seem too good for prole amusements. Or like she said, mock-paraphrasing the unheard: “Oh, I’m good too good for life.” Some of us are really just shy and try to avoid being physically conspicuous whenever possible; that Halloween depends on being physically conspicuous (and putting a lot of effort, ingenuity and/or simply money into costuming) can be kind of a deal-breaker. And so what is really just our problem comes off as aloofness, the same way people are pressured into dancing when they don’t want to on the grounds that no one couldn’t enjoy it. Sorry, anything’s possible.

* People are retarded, at least in New York. Last year I saw someone getting arrested for being disorderly at 8:30 a.m.; I don’t even see this on New Year’s or St. Patrick’s. I realize that disguises liberate us from ourselves, allowing our ids to poke out (and, more importantly, that it really is the one night where adult promiscuity is just kind of expected, rather than just kind of indulgently tolerated as on New Year’s) and so on. But people just act like complete louts. E.g.: this year the male bathroom on the third floor of Union Square’s Barnes & Noble was completely overrun with drunken females pissing out beer, tweaking their make-up and complimenting each other on their hotness by 8:45. Not that I really care, but c’mon: if you tried this any other night of the year, you’d probably get arrested.

* These people all troop over to 6th Ave. for the parade, which makes that area and everything surrounding it virtually impossible to traverse. Thank christ I was in Brooklyn.

* Back to point one: not only do people judge you based on your costumage/lack thereof, I find this own pernicious attitude infecting my own brain. So: girl on the platform, with your hair all Sarah Palin and severe glasses, do you always dress like this? Because your boots are Friday-night New York smart and what I expect you wear every Friday. So either your costume is half-assed and you can’t bear to sacrifice your putative hotness, or you always look like this. AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY I’M THINKING ABOUT THIS

* It just comes down to forced cheer. I think the reason a lot of people love Halloween is because it’s one of the only holidays that doesn’t involve family, and I respect that. It’s just the idea that if you don’t love Halloween you’re being a grinch that pisses me off.

(All that said, I still had an OK time.)


Protected: the worst class

September 11, 2007

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it’s the first day of the semester

September 4, 2007

And you know what that means. Well, you do if you’re unlucky enough to be around the NYU area:

* freshmen in sweat-pants toting expensive bags, carrying glossy cards inviting them to “party” at “the hottest club in town” and/or NYU paraphernalia advertising extracurriculars

* those assholes who stand on the corner asking “Do you like comedy?” (Soon to be followed by the Children’s International and Greenpeace people). This is all the fault of the freshmen, who are obvious, naive fresh meat.

* desperate socialization. “So, what class are you going to? Oh, that’s cool. Do you want to go to the dining hall later?” Often marked by hordes of 8 or more kids walking together from one place to another, scared of being alone for even a second.

I understand. I was a freshmen myself, not so long ago. But you know what? You’ll learn to dress properly in public one of these days (unless you’re in Stern, in which case you think it’s cool to pop your collar and saunter around in faux-expensive business attire), how to stare down those guilt-tripping sidewalk whores, and none of these people whose company you so desperately want right now will be your friends when you’re a senior. And someday, just like me, you’ll feel guilty about turning a cool area into an obnoxious campus.