Halloween has come and gone, and despite the fact that I missed out on what has always been a legendary weekend at CMC, I feel like I ended up okay.
And seeing as we can all learn something from this occasion, I'll start with the end of the night. I come back to my room around 2am-ish (Big life lesson here: Nothing good ever happens after 2AM. True story.) and I log on to Skype just for the hell of it. And sure enough, one of my friends (who will remain nameless, *cough*Ben Fawkes) was still on. So I drop a line and start rambling about my night...
When I get stopped by a surprising female voice on the other end. Sure enough, the guy's mother back in Brooklyn had logged onto his Skype account on a whim. Luckily she stopped me when she did, otherwise I might have made some homoerotic insinuations about his time in Prague. Either way, I had a fun chat with Ellen (first name basis now) and I learned an important lesson:
If you ever use AIM or Skype at home, don't save your login information. It can only end badly if your parents decide to masquerade as you.
But isn't that what Halloween is all about? Getting the chance to be someone else. The ability to transform for a single night and live free of the laws of logic? You get to step away from sense and reason with a "What happens on Halloween stays in Halloween" attitude. Well, a lack of reason reared its ugly head on All Hallow's Eve since despite my studly Tom Cruise get-up, I still didn't get the girl.
It's all a part of my study abroad education. And since I'm not getting anything out of the classroom, I guess that the bars are becoming my true lecture halls. Last night the lesson plan was about "Linguistics."
Yes, I'm aware that women constantly live like it's opposite day in the Bizarro World. "Yes" means "no." "I'm fine" means "There's a problem." "Kobe, please stop!" means "I'm asking for it." But I also thought that a 2am phone call asking "What are you doing right now?" was a pretty universal tell-tale sign. But then you learn that Jack Johnson had it right: Maybe pretty much always means no.
So it goes.
But you know what? Who really cares? I walked back through Downtown Auckland with my buddies, and I was wearing nothing but a white dress shirt and my underwear. I mean, that's a key indicator of a good night. Plus, I got back in time to watch the season 5 premiere of Nip/Tuck*.
And I also had time to look ahead to next year. I feel like I've tackled and perfected the Tom Cruise look, so in 12 months, keep your eyes out for my McDreamy costume. I've already got the hair. I'll get the 5 o'clock shadow going, wear a lab coat over a red cashmere sweater, and maybe find a stethoscope on eBay. And I am currently accepting applications for a homophobic black guy to be my wingman.
At the same time, I did turn into someone else on Halloween night. And hopefully this wasn't a one time metamorphosis. Typically, I'd come back and write a depressing, Doug Funnie "Dear Journal, Patty still won't bone me" entry with sad bastard music playing in the background.
Instead, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps, listened to Van Morrison and took solace in that mantra that every Dodger fan knows by heart: Maybe next year.
Because it's just one night, and just one girl. And just like Don Henley I'm already gone. No need to obess about losing 7 straight to the Rockies down the stretch. There's Joe Torre in the future. And only 95 more days until LOST.
Death to the infidels,
-MGD
*And a quick word about that. Since when did Nip/Tuck turn into The Devil Wears Prada? We really don't need a five minute montage of Sean and Christian trying on different outfits before hitting up the club scene. I want more episodes where they separate siamese twins and then Christian celebrates by banging the mother/daughter combo. Oh well. 21 more episodes to piss off the moral majority.
And seeing as we can all learn something from this occasion, I'll start with the end of the night. I come back to my room around 2am-ish (Big life lesson here: Nothing good ever happens after 2AM. True story.) and I log on to Skype just for the hell of it. And sure enough, one of my friends (who will remain nameless, *cough*Ben Fawkes) was still on. So I drop a line and start rambling about my night...
When I get stopped by a surprising female voice on the other end. Sure enough, the guy's mother back in Brooklyn had logged onto his Skype account on a whim. Luckily she stopped me when she did, otherwise I might have made some homoerotic insinuations about his time in Prague. Either way, I had a fun chat with Ellen (first name basis now) and I learned an important lesson:
If you ever use AIM or Skype at home, don't save your login information. It can only end badly if your parents decide to masquerade as you.
But isn't that what Halloween is all about? Getting the chance to be someone else. The ability to transform for a single night and live free of the laws of logic? You get to step away from sense and reason with a "What happens on Halloween stays in Halloween" attitude. Well, a lack of reason reared its ugly head on All Hallow's Eve since despite my studly Tom Cruise get-up, I still didn't get the girl.
It's all a part of my study abroad education. And since I'm not getting anything out of the classroom, I guess that the bars are becoming my true lecture halls. Last night the lesson plan was about "Linguistics."
Yes, I'm aware that women constantly live like it's opposite day in the Bizarro World. "Yes" means "no." "I'm fine" means "There's a problem." "Kobe, please stop!" means "I'm asking for it." But I also thought that a 2am phone call asking "What are you doing right now?" was a pretty universal tell-tale sign. But then you learn that Jack Johnson had it right: Maybe pretty much always means no.
So it goes.
But you know what? Who really cares? I walked back through Downtown Auckland with my buddies, and I was wearing nothing but a white dress shirt and my underwear. I mean, that's a key indicator of a good night. Plus, I got back in time to watch the season 5 premiere of Nip/Tuck*.
And I also had time to look ahead to next year. I feel like I've tackled and perfected the Tom Cruise look, so in 12 months, keep your eyes out for my McDreamy costume. I've already got the hair. I'll get the 5 o'clock shadow going, wear a lab coat over a red cashmere sweater, and maybe find a stethoscope on eBay. And I am currently accepting applications for a homophobic black guy to be my wingman.
At the same time, I did turn into someone else on Halloween night. And hopefully this wasn't a one time metamorphosis. Typically, I'd come back and write a depressing, Doug Funnie "Dear Journal, Patty still won't bone me" entry with sad bastard music playing in the background.
Instead, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps, listened to Van Morrison and took solace in that mantra that every Dodger fan knows by heart: Maybe next year.
Because it's just one night, and just one girl. And just like Don Henley I'm already gone. No need to obess about losing 7 straight to the Rockies down the stretch. There's Joe Torre in the future. And only 95 more days until LOST.
Death to the infidels,
-MGD
*And a quick word about that. Since when did Nip/Tuck turn into The Devil Wears Prada? We really don't need a five minute montage of Sean and Christian trying on different outfits before hitting up the club scene. I want more episodes where they separate siamese twins and then Christian celebrates by banging the mother/daughter combo. Oh well. 21 more episodes to piss off the moral majority.
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