Last week I met someone who mentioned that the Sci-Fi Lounge is back and this time its home is in Crestwood Plaza. The grand opening was Saturday and I got a wicked idea. I had never been to this place but something told me it was a hangout for gamers, computer nerds and the like. So, why not show up dressed in Goth? From time to time I enjoy walking the streets looking silly or wearing something totally out of my comfort zone for the night. It's more or less of a social experiment coupled with entertainment for my mind.
I gathered a few friends and we met up at a Chinese restaurant before heading to the lounge. There was only three of us and while we didn't look way freaky we definitely looked like Marilyn Manson groupies. Black eye make-up, black lips, and just about black everything. I felt crafty and cut my tank top in half and put it back together with large safety pins. I might actually wear this out again-it looks super cool! Anyway, we showed up to the Chinese joint, sat down and ordered. What should have been a yummy dinner turned into an obnoxious, laughable and outright rude affair. When our waiter approached us, he looked down at us with judging eyes. We each stated what we wanted, he wrote it down and then repeated our order. However, what he repeated wasn't our order at all! If this guy didn't have an American accent I would have thought nothing of it but unfortunately that was not the case. Once again we told him our order and he appeared to get it the second time.
First, we got our appetizers and everything was pretty good. Then, we got the first part of our meal: Soup. I as well as my friend R ordered Hot&Sour and N ordered Egg Drop. R and I got Hot&Sour while N was given chicken noodle. Upon telling the waiter he got the wrong soup, the waiter retorted "No, you ordered this. I heard you say noodle, not egg." N, not wanting to pick a fight calmly accepted the wrong soup as we waited for our main course. Once again, the orders turned out all wrong. I was given the wrong chicken dish and N was given fried rice instead of white. The waiter scoffed when we told him our order was wrong and truly wasn't going to fix it. He ran off and we stared at our plates, then at one another in shock. What kind of waiter gives you the wrong food, mocks us when we tell him we didn't order what was in front of us and then walks away? Finally, we flagged him down and he gave us the right dish but of course he had to tell us that he was right and we were wrong.
I had not felt this type of discrimination since I died my hair dark brown once and got a super tan from being in a desert for two weeks. People would look at me like I was a "terrorist". I think it was my nose. Or possibly I had some sand residue. Maybe it was both. Or neither. Anyhow, the point is that i am always amazed at how quick people are to judge and you are treated so differently simply by the way you dress or put on your make-up. It's sad because what if I was actually attracted to the Goth look and it made me super happy to dress it but then I would get repeatedly treated like shit. Perhaps that's the point of Goth? Regardless, the asshole waiter was not given a tip and received Hell Money instead.
Hell Money is a form of Joss paper that looks like money. It usually comes in the form of giant denominations such as 500,000,000. Joss paper are sheets of paper that are burned during traditional Chinese ancestor worship ceremonies or at Chinese funerals to ensure that the spirit of the deceased has money for the afterlife.
Knowing that the Chinese culture is rich in superstition, I gave our waiter a Hell Note because in Chinese culture, receiving a Hell Note is very, very bad luck. Don't mess with Goth kids yo'!
As for the Sci-Fi lounge, they welcomed us with open arms and it made my inner geek glow knowing that my kind of people happen to be open and accepting. I even got compliments on my red shoe laces and black chucks. While the place itself isn't too fantastic, I can see it as a place to meet other cool geeks.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
A shoe on the side of the highway. Just one. Not two.
A friend of mine commented on how he feels this world is meant for couples, where most activities seem to be a "members only" type of a thing. You know, a club where all its members must have a date. So I began thinking. I thought about all the events I have been to this last month and none of them required a date.
Let's start with the Naked Bike Ride. I did not have a date to this event and most of the people I met on the ride were single. They weren't all men either. I spent a good chunk of the night talking to a single girl I met after the ride about the dating pool in St. Louis. She was a cute, smart girl that wanted someone to cuddle with. Later on, I saw her chatting with a fella’. Maybe she isn’t single anymore…
A few weeks later I attended the FBC(Fucking Bike Club) Ride and honestly, I didn’t see any couples there. I went with a friend who spent the night talking to a few girls and he even got their numbers. Everyone was super friendly and sure, they were there to ride bikes, but they were also there to meet new people.
Last weekend I attended an Art Exhibit/giant house party. Again, I did not have a date and met a lot of single people there. It appeared that half the crowd was simply looking to talk to others, find new friends or lovers. It's all about reaching out and deciding to just talk to a stranger for the night. Get rejected? Talk to another one. And another. And yes, another!
Last night, there was live music in the Botanical Gardens and lots of people. Once again, I was dateless and I was enveloped by single people wanting to connect and meet their soul mate. This world may be focused on finding a mate but fortunately it is set up in such a way so you can do just that. Maybe people would have more luck finding a mate if they talked to one another instead of shyly glancing at each other from across the street, secretly wanting to dance while they stand alone on the dance floor or quietly sit on a music filled lawn at the Botanical Gardens.
Let me note that I'm guilty of standing on the sidelines while others dance and converse. I am guilty of retreating to my safe little bubble and then complaining later on how hard it is to meet people. If you can step outside your comfort zone and put yourself out there I know there are hundreds of people just waiting to meet someone new.
Let's start with the Naked Bike Ride. I did not have a date to this event and most of the people I met on the ride were single. They weren't all men either. I spent a good chunk of the night talking to a single girl I met after the ride about the dating pool in St. Louis. She was a cute, smart girl that wanted someone to cuddle with. Later on, I saw her chatting with a fella’. Maybe she isn’t single anymore…
A few weeks later I attended the FBC(Fucking Bike Club) Ride and honestly, I didn’t see any couples there. I went with a friend who spent the night talking to a few girls and he even got their numbers. Everyone was super friendly and sure, they were there to ride bikes, but they were also there to meet new people.
Last weekend I attended an Art Exhibit/giant house party. Again, I did not have a date and met a lot of single people there. It appeared that half the crowd was simply looking to talk to others, find new friends or lovers. It's all about reaching out and deciding to just talk to a stranger for the night. Get rejected? Talk to another one. And another. And yes, another!
Last night, there was live music in the Botanical Gardens and lots of people. Once again, I was dateless and I was enveloped by single people wanting to connect and meet their soul mate. This world may be focused on finding a mate but fortunately it is set up in such a way so you can do just that. Maybe people would have more luck finding a mate if they talked to one another instead of shyly glancing at each other from across the street, secretly wanting to dance while they stand alone on the dance floor or quietly sit on a music filled lawn at the Botanical Gardens.
Let me note that I'm guilty of standing on the sidelines while others dance and converse. I am guilty of retreating to my safe little bubble and then complaining later on how hard it is to meet people. If you can step outside your comfort zone and put yourself out there I know there are hundreds of people just waiting to meet someone new.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Art Department Identity Crisis
People are fascinating creatures; Complex, curious, and confusing as all hell. For the past two years I have been trying to figure out why the students in the Webster Art Department are able to make total works of....not art and yet, the faculty really seem to buy into it.
Art kid: "I created this piece because the telephone wire really spoke to me."
Professor: "Yes, using wire to create a ball is brilliant. It's brilliant because it isn't just wire, it's telephone wire."
Art kid: "Exactly. There was something about surreptitiously coiling the wire until it created a ball that made me think 'This is more than art. It's really talking to me. And it told me I was doing something new. Something never done before. I'm onto something here!'"
This exchange can be heard at any moment within the art studio walls. After years and countless hours of pondering how these kids talk people into thinking that their display of 5 red bricks neatly stacked against a white studio wall is art, I thought I understood. I thought I figured it out. And I did- but not completely. I thought that in order to get through the b.s. of the Webster Art Department all you had to do was create a work of "art" and give it a very kitchy, catchy story that everyone would just eat right up and voila, A+! While that does help, it still hasn’t been working for me 100%. So, this still leaves me wondering why. Why does it feel that there is a group of art kids, a group of professors and then me? This isn't a pity on Tera party, this is pure quandary.
Earlier today I walked through the studio once again, saw a stack of red bricks once again, almost tripped over a coiled up piece of telephone wire once again, and then WHAM! The answer hit me like those damn bricks! It's so simple. High School. Every student and to a lesser but notable degree, every professor, is nothing but a character. In high school, kids are figuring out who they are, where they belong and how to get where they think they are going. Hormonal teenage angst floods the hallways as students rush to join their cliques. The jocks playfully push each other against lockers and excitedly talk about their Letterman Jackets while the cheerleaders strut their high end fashion and gossip about who is dating who. The goths wear a constant frown on their pale face and choose to sit quietly in a secluded corner. Meanwhile, the stoners laugh and kick around hacky sacks in the courtyard while the metal heads discuss System of a Down's hiatus but it falls upon deaf ears-literally. These groups are all very different but they share a common thread. The thread is composed of the need for a sense of belonging and insecurities are woven in along the way.
Much like high school, the art department is divided into groups. The most laughable group, the hipsters, can be found in costume huddled around an outside ashtray, puffing herbal cigarettes as they critique the latest foreign film. Their mop-tops bob up and down to their favorite never- heard- of -before Indie band as they all push up their big, black glasses overwhelming their snooty-nosed face.
Art kid: "I created this piece because the telephone wire really spoke to me."
Professor: "Yes, using wire to create a ball is brilliant. It's brilliant because it isn't just wire, it's telephone wire."
Art kid: "Exactly. There was something about surreptitiously coiling the wire until it created a ball that made me think 'This is more than art. It's really talking to me. And it told me I was doing something new. Something never done before. I'm onto something here!'"
This exchange can be heard at any moment within the art studio walls. After years and countless hours of pondering how these kids talk people into thinking that their display of 5 red bricks neatly stacked against a white studio wall is art, I thought I understood. I thought I figured it out. And I did- but not completely. I thought that in order to get through the b.s. of the Webster Art Department all you had to do was create a work of "art" and give it a very kitchy, catchy story that everyone would just eat right up and voila, A+! While that does help, it still hasn’t been working for me 100%. So, this still leaves me wondering why. Why does it feel that there is a group of art kids, a group of professors and then me? This isn't a pity on Tera party, this is pure quandary.
Earlier today I walked through the studio once again, saw a stack of red bricks once again, almost tripped over a coiled up piece of telephone wire once again, and then WHAM! The answer hit me like those damn bricks! It's so simple. High School. Every student and to a lesser but notable degree, every professor, is nothing but a character. In high school, kids are figuring out who they are, where they belong and how to get where they think they are going. Hormonal teenage angst floods the hallways as students rush to join their cliques. The jocks playfully push each other against lockers and excitedly talk about their Letterman Jackets while the cheerleaders strut their high end fashion and gossip about who is dating who. The goths wear a constant frown on their pale face and choose to sit quietly in a secluded corner. Meanwhile, the stoners laugh and kick around hacky sacks in the courtyard while the metal heads discuss System of a Down's hiatus but it falls upon deaf ears-literally. These groups are all very different but they share a common thread. The thread is composed of the need for a sense of belonging and insecurities are woven in along the way.
Much like high school, the art department is divided into groups. The most laughable group, the hipsters, can be found in costume huddled around an outside ashtray, puffing herbal cigarettes as they critique the latest foreign film. Their mop-tops bob up and down to their favorite never- heard- of -before Indie band as they all push up their big, black glasses overwhelming their snooty-nosed face.
Of course you can’t have hipsters without hippies. You always know that you are within a few feet of a hippie because the studio is filled with the smell of Nag Champa. The Bob Marley tye-dyed hippies stroll around the studio barefoot with eyes thickly glazed over like a Krispy Kreme doughnut. While the hipsters listen to crappy music that is “good” because no one has heard of it, the hippies wildly dance to reggae or sway their dreads to the beat of Dylan.
If you aren’t a hipster or a hippie, then you most likely fall into the “I’m going to do whatever I want” group. Personally, I don’t like groups but at first glance, these group of students seemed okay. Why subscribe to all that nonsense when I can be friends with people that do whatever they want? They dress outside the norm, believe that if something is thought to be cool they should do the opposite and hell, they are even open to such characters like Billy who is "weird in a good way" because he wears a belt made from sheep intestines and totes around a voodoo walking stick he bought from coolrelicsofafrica.com for only two dollars! Wait, they can't fool me, this is just another group. I enjoy the way I dress, I like my goofiness, and I am comfortable being who I am. All the characters of the art department, including the hipster art history professors and the studio art, dazed and confused professors, are simply people who are insecure with themselves. Perhaps they like who they are now but it took pretending to be a hipster, a hippie, a weirdo-ultimately becoming that someone else to get there. Overall, I think art is a subject that attracts insecure people. In art, anything goes as long as you are going along with it. Otherwise, you are the person on the sidelines looking at all the silly groups with a puzzled look brushed about your face asking yourself “Why, why am I here?”
Monday, August 10, 2009
Rent-A-Puppy
For at least a year I have been wanting a puppy but I have one minor problem-I don't want to clean up after it. Obviously, this would be impossible. Unless, of course, I like living in a house that reeks of dog shit. But I don't. I am more of a Pine-Sol kinda gal.
Do you ever wonder why they don't make Cedar-Sol? Yeah, me either.
Let's get back to my puppy dilemma. Since I just want something soft, furry, cuddly and gosh darn cute to play with for a day, I think that there should be a business simply titled "Rent-A-Puppy." I looked all through the Yellow Pages hoping that by some miracle a genius like myself already thought this up and thus doing all the business work for me. But I was wrong. Either there is only one genius in this universe that came up with this brilliant plan(ahem, moi) or all the other geniuses are lazy like me.
This is really a shame because I bet business would be booming. It would be the cure to end the annoyance of children nagging their parents to get a puppy that, ultimately, the parents would care for.
I can see it now: All the Veruca Salts in this world whining "I want a puppy now!" would be able to get one! The child would be happy as can be and the parents too-since they won't wind up taking care of the little bugger. But then it would be taken away after the hour is up.
Such is life.
It's good to teach kids that life isn't all candy and make-believe.
Okay, maybe it wouldn't be a good idea as a Christmas present but it could show children the insane responsibilities of owning a puppy. I mean, the sole reason for this business is so that I can play fetch with a doggie for a day and then make it's real owners clean up after the mess it makes.
This is truly a brilliant plan.
If any genius out there with more motivation and gumption than I wants to start up a business like this- let me know. Then I could get a puppy, name it Waldo, and then lose it.
Do you ever wonder why they don't make Cedar-Sol? Yeah, me either.
Let's get back to my puppy dilemma. Since I just want something soft, furry, cuddly and gosh darn cute to play with for a day, I think that there should be a business simply titled "Rent-A-Puppy." I looked all through the Yellow Pages hoping that by some miracle a genius like myself already thought this up and thus doing all the business work for me. But I was wrong. Either there is only one genius in this universe that came up with this brilliant plan(ahem, moi) or all the other geniuses are lazy like me.
This is really a shame because I bet business would be booming. It would be the cure to end the annoyance of children nagging their parents to get a puppy that, ultimately, the parents would care for.
I can see it now: All the Veruca Salts in this world whining "I want a puppy now!" would be able to get one! The child would be happy as can be and the parents too-since they won't wind up taking care of the little bugger. But then it would be taken away after the hour is up.
Such is life.
It's good to teach kids that life isn't all candy and make-believe.
Okay, maybe it wouldn't be a good idea as a Christmas present but it could show children the insane responsibilities of owning a puppy. I mean, the sole reason for this business is so that I can play fetch with a doggie for a day and then make it's real owners clean up after the mess it makes.
This is truly a brilliant plan.
If any genius out there with more motivation and gumption than I wants to start up a business like this- let me know. Then I could get a puppy, name it Waldo, and then lose it.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Fact of the Day: Shrike
The Shrike is a greyish medium sized bird that has been dubbed "The Butcher". Its prey usually consists of small birds, mammals, insects and frogs. What is truly unique about this bird is that it catches its prey and impales it on tree limbs or thorny leaves. Since they are able to catch prey that is larger than their mouth, they use the thorn as a skewer so they can rip apart their food. I think this bird is onto something. Maybe if the other birds take notice it won't be long until we start to see birds eating with chopsticks!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Fact of the Day: Unguligrade
The word unguligrade is just so darn fun to say that I decided to make it my fact of the day. Ungulilates are mammals that walk on their tiptoes. Usually, ungulates have hooves such as deer or horses but can also have "toes" like the llama.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Fact of the Day: Opossum
When baby opossum are born, they climb from the vagina to the pouch(marsupium). Once they make it to the pouch, they find a nipple to hang onto. They stay this way for about 60 days. Kind of...gross.
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