The Hot Childs (in the city)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

CHOICES

Re: actually there are no more choices. Life is set! The future is now! I'm going to Senegal with the Peace Corps in March! Yeah!

Already, my to-do list is growing. I need to eat as much disgusting American food as is humanely possible between now and then. I need to decide whether I will still be becoming part of the Apple computer generation with this new news. I need to find a clever saying involving the name SENEGAL to use for my going away karaoke party (all I have right now is "Sin and Gall!" We can do better). So I guess, in those ways, many choices remain. But I am super excited and borderline terrified about the sudden reality of leaving for two years. Especially after I googled 'Peace Corps Senegal' and found blogs about volunteers slaughtering scorpions in their rooms and sleeping on beds made of sticks. I mean, isolation, culture shock, the pressure to make a difference, blah blah blah -- but seriously, BED OF STICKS? Suddenly, I wonder... will that be the line I just. can't. cross. ?


We'll see. I'm sure there are leaves or something I can use to soften my bed of sticks.

Plus, I already passed the first pivotal choice by choosing BOTH options. That happened when the UPS man rang my doorbell at 2:15 last Thursday. I knew that my Peace Corps assignment was coming and I'd have to sign for it, but I had seriously just put some popcorn in the microwave. I didn't know what to do. You can't just stop microwaving popcorn. But the doorbell was ringing (IT WAS MY FUTURE, I HAD TO ANSWER). So after a moment where I literally started running to the door, then stopped and looked at the microwave, then started running again, then moved back to the microwave, I sprinted down the stairs, whipped open our numerous doors, yelled 'I'M SORRY I'M COOKING POPCORN I DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME', signed my "name," grabbed my package, and then ran back upstairs. It hadn't even been 30 seconds. The popcorn was far from done. Win. Win. Moments like this give me Peace Corps confidence.


Around these parts, I've kept busy with what has become my natural schedule... guard babies, dance badly yet proudly in the back row of classes with semi-professional dancers, write skits about clown murder and singularity robots that no one 'gets' for my writing classes, celebrate holidays. I had a dandy Halloween that involved two uses of the increasingly infamous gold-sequined dress (TIME OUT, DILEMMA: DO I BRING IT TO AFRICA???). The first night, I wore it with a few padlocks and bike locks around my neck and called myself GOLDILOCKS. Get it? The second night I wore it with a nasty wig, 80s blazer, cowgirl boots, and a giant stuffed bra and called myself DOLLY PARTON. On that night, I truly toed the line between being Dolly Parton and just looking like a transvestite. Again, CHOICES. I also gained newfound empathy for ladies with generous bosoms. I'm not going to lie, my back was aching by the end of the night. Also, my rack was so incredibly large that I honestly couldn't see when my skirt was riding a little higher than usual. Also, people felt free to feel me up all night, like my chest was some blarney stone or something. Girls with the big girls got it rough, I see that now.

This is really just all I have to say. Wait, that's never true. But this chair is really uncomfortable and I just want to stop. Also, I do want to say that Bristol's success on Dancing with the Stars has me very frightened about the future of America. People brush it off as "just a TV show" but no. This is the most-watched TV show in America. If this many people are taking Bristol Palin's success on it seriously... then you know, YOU KNOW that Sarah Palin is watching and taking notes and realizing that she can become president if these same people vote, just once, on a cold Tuesday in November. Call me paranoid and conspiratorial, but RIP America. Also, I just love that kid from Cory in the House.

Clearly, it is time for this post to end.