is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Funny Things Happen.
Funny Things Happen.
Here's me as a superhero.
Don't worry. I know I don't actually look like that. The superhero generator doesn't have a "38-year old woman body" option. You can, however, spend an inordinate amount of time choosing eye-ear-mouth combinations, not to mention animal companions and weaponry and costumes! Also, having recently viewed a collection of photographs from my 20-year high school reunion (which I did not attend), I can tell you one thing. I HAVE AGED WELL.
On Friday night I went to the President's cocktail thing, wearing as much of a dressed-up grown-up conservative outfit as I could muster. I met some people there who have also been suffering from New England Culture Shock. One of them was an African-American woman who, after I said I had given up trying to understand how I should dress here, said, "Oh, I have it ALL figured out. Just look how I blend in!" Then she proceeded to walk around the room and pose next to various groups of old white professor guys. It was the funniest thing I had seen someone do for some time, I tell you what.
Saturday I woke up and wrote all my lectures for this week so I could goof off for the rest of the weekend. Around three I drove to Boston, hung out with Marilyn and saw her fabulous new house. Then she and I had dinner with J--- Butler and three French academics. It was a really good dinner. M and I both had tuna tartare smothered in caviar and served over roasted beets, followed by truffled potato ravioli, and jasmine chocolate pudding. We also split a bottle of tasty Vouvray.
One of the French academics, the only man in the party, told an extended story about how he didn't sleep with Michel Foucault when he had the chance. Then we had an extended debate about sexual harassment and sleeping with students. That kind of debate is always fun/funny to have with French people. Anyway, when I told the story about having to talk about not sleeping with Foucault to wine-and-ice-cream, he said, "Ah. He withstood Foucault's mighty sword." I replied, "Yes. Foucault was poised to smite him. From behind. But he sensed danger and resisted." We find ourselves funny.
Later Saturday night, post excellent dinner with J. Butler, Marilyn and I went to a party with a truly amazing range of people in terms of age, dress style, what have you. A young boy on ecstasy hugged me and was my best friend for 15 minutes, during which he told me a lot about his favorite episodes of Punky Brewster. A handsome Irish guy talked to me about the U.S. and the military for about an hour and then asked for my phone number. (Yes. I gave it to him. I think he won't use it.) At about two in the morning I was all of a sudden giving an impromptu lecture on the history of rights for individuals, because Toshi is working on a documentary on the history of rights for corporations. You might think the lecturing made me an awful party guest, but Toshi was FASCINATED. Marilyn's ex was there, and he tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to talk to him. At all. Because I am just not fair sometimes.
Speaking of people I don't want to talk to, during the party I looked at my sidekick and realized I had an email message from Perrone. I chose not to read it.
After a rousing five hours of sleep I woke up and jumped in the car so I could get back to Amherst in time to see the CUTE CUTE (but don't tell them I said so) competitive basketball game between 6th graders from Amherst and Holyoke. Son of wine-and-ice-cream is both charming and a talented athlete.
Then I took a nap, and then I went and played poker for a LONG time with a bunch of professors from Amherst and UMass. I did pretty well, considering that I was playing by consulting the cheat sheet of rules that I had made for myself by searching the WORLD WIDE WEB for how to play poker. At one point Alison looked over and said to me, "Jill, those are some impressive stacks you have." I said, "I hope you are talking about my chips, Alison." Ha. That is not really the kind of humor that happens around here. Except now I'm around here, so it does. Plus, I was wearing the magical lucky PUPPY TSHIRT, about which Evany Thomas once said, "Whoa. Don't you know there's a leash law in this state?!".
Oh, and here's a good punchline to any entry. Last Thursday I walked into a room off the faculty dining room where I had been told there would be a faculty meeting for my department. I had baked a cake for my colleagues the night before�yummy cayenne-spiked chocolate with a dark chocolate ganache. So I walked into this room carrying a luscious cake platter, and I didn't recognize anyone. I looked around confusedly. And then a woman said to me, "Are you here for the eating disorder reading group?" I AM NOT KIDDING.
Wednesday is my last day of class for the semester. Thursday I go to Vegas for 24 hours. Friday I fly into Oakland and take BART directly to the Waycross show at 12 Galaxies. Then it's SUPERHERO SATURDAY. And, in addition to the SF crew, both Heidi and Marilyn will be there!
11:09 p.m. - December 13, 2004
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