Missing the Party

I thought for a moment about doing a year in review type of thing. But, then I figured, nah. First, it's interesting when the news does it... not so interesting when I do it. While there have been plenty of events unfolding over the last year, overall I've written plenty of blogs to reflect back on, if either you or I are interested to see what has happened.

So... I'll go back to my original idea. I watched Superbad last night. (I signed up for Netflix yesterday so be prepared for more movie references and movie mentionings than there used to be.) However, Superbad was borrowed from my Britney Spears loving chemist friend. I haven't decided on a name for her clearly... I like Britney too and I think the fact that she's all into chemistry rocks. So, I have to come up with a hybrid, of some sort. I will. Anyway... I borrowed the movie from her months ago and finally got to watch it last night. I have to say, I'm not a fan. I laughed once or twice but only once was it a real, hearty couldn't help but give it up kind of laugh though I can't recall what the joke was that made me laugh like that. Not that I have no respect whatsoever for the movie, it just wasn't me.

However, I did get two things out of it. I guess in some ways they combine into one thing. The formerly cutest boy ever really liked the movie and two, I guess I didn't miss out on much when I missed countless parties both during and after high school. Some of those parties are what make the formerly cutest boy ever tick. But, I was invited once and wasn't invited at least twice. Then there was the cloudy, murky invite that supposedly was sent to the wrong person via text. However, watching the remnants of the party in the movie last night was very real. Probably the only truly real part of the movie as far as I could see. The embarrassment that comes with the morning after. Come to think of it, although I was grounded for a long time then had a straight edged boyfriend then went buck wild in my own way, I still did my fair share of partying. Just not at a large amount of people scale. And not that I'll never party again. I just don't care to have random house parties or the frat party experience. I had tastes but no real concrete memories. Which, up until now, wasn't exactly ok with me. I thought I had maybe missed out on something. I've done plenty of stupid things in smaller, more intimate party scenes... kind of feeling glad I missed out on more large scale embarrassment.

As for the cutest boy ever... so what? He had plenty of beer pong experiences... somehow I felt that made him more or better than me. Nah. Not at all. Something about that movie did remind me of that. I did enjoy beer pong the one time I played at a friend's party. However, that night was soured when everyone went home and there was my friend... passed out in the backyard... all of her other guests simply not caring. I helped her to bed where her fiance was laying down (I couldn't stand that dick, she didn't end up marrying him). I think that experience says it all without me having to expand too much.

Everytime I hear this lyric on the radio, I turn it up loud and then ignore the rest of the song:

I don't care what you think
As long as it's about me

(Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care)

And everytime I hear it, I nearly yell it. Loud and clear. Seems to me I'm starting to believe it. See, affirmations aren't always Stuart Smalley.