The Events of my Weekend

This weekend I went to a costume party called Theater Bizarre: Year of the Goat with my friend Nicole. I call her my friend. Is she my friend? I don’t know. Are we friends? I think so. Anyway, it was a huge party in Detroit, Michigan, held at the Masonic Temple. It was eight floors of bands and performers and bars and people. So many people. So many people in costume. So many people barely in costume. I saw so many body parts. I took a lot of pictures, but no pictures of body parts because my online (and irl, let’s be honest) persona is PG. Maybe PG-13 if it’s a crazy day. The point is I saw some burlesque dancers who were amazing and it was not like the time my friend and I were trying to find something to do and I was like, “ooh, a cabaret show, let’s do that!” and it turned out to not be anything like the musical Cabaret, but was, in fact, a woman in her 60’s telling jokes that would have made your great-grandparents blush. She wore a long-sleeved sequined shirt and her hair was permed in the way that suggested she only had it set once a week. My friend and I were the only people there who were not senior citizens so we were used to vulgar jokes. We grew up with MTV.  The old people kept looking at us like we were being scandalized. It was a 21+ crowd, this cabaret show. This party was not like that. This party had nipple tassels and…piercings… Various…body…piercings. Did that guy know he wasn’t wearing anything under his skirt? He had to, right?

I dressed as a broken baby doll because I thought, “what would require me to purchase a dress I can also wear to work and what is the easiest make-up I can do on my own?” Nicole went as a clown even though she is very scared of clowns. I’m not scared of anything. Except water, fire, the apocalypse, murder, guns, dying alone, rubber bands, and balloons. But like nothing else.

While we were in line this guy who was dressed in black and painted black chased Nicole. She screamed. I laughed. I guess that’s just one of the many differences between us.

I saw a clown balance himself on top of a giant red ball and I saw a girl balance herself on top of two metal poles and then shoot a crossbow with her feet while blindfolded and I saw another clown play with fire while rolling around on roller skates and I danced (“danced”) to a brass band.

Other things we did that were not related to the party were go to a Bavarian village, which was much like the one I went to in Seattle except this one was not in the mountains, but both had so many candy shops and also we went vintage shopping and if you come to my house (don’t come to my house) I’ll show you my new prized possession, a 1970’s varsity sweater. Or I could just wear it, but I hate wearing prized possessions, what happens if they get ruined? Speaking of possession, we also watched the first three Scream movies, which are about people possessed by insanity, basically.

The flights to and from were fine, unexceptional, except for the guy on the way home was like, “hi, excuse me please, I don’t like to keep the armrest between us, I prefer to take up all of the space,” and I was like, “PLEASE, sir, I don’t need the armrest but I prefer to keep a buffer between myself and strangers and you seem very nice, but please back away.” I’m just kidding. I said none of that and leaned into the aisle. He also didn’t say any of that, it was just his actions. The flight home was also a little turbulent, which I hate. But other than that it was fine.


Squad Goals – Taylor vs Carly

Totally made-up reasons why I would be in Carly Rae Jepsen’s squad over Taylor Swift’s.

A boy’s clothes are scattered around the room. His hands are in Taylor Swift’s hair. She is reclining on a plush chaise, fully clothed. Taylor Swift does not take her clothes off for anyone. People take their clothes off for Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift’s belly button remains a mystery.

Carly Rae Jepsen lounges naked in the sheets and watches late night television and probably eats cookies in bed. Taylor Swift watches only epic romances that take place on African safaris.

Taylor Swift’s response to boy problems is to bake things and write songs about how her life is better without them. Taylor Swift puts on red lipstick and calls her squad for group photos. Carly Rae Jepsen drinks caramel apple vodka straight from the bottle and her friends tell her to get her shit together.

Taylor Swift is New York. She exits the gym looking flawless, in clothes that would make a young, modern-day Jackie Kennedy Onassis seethe with jealousy. Carly Rae Jepsen is LA. Carly Rae Jepsen is effortlessly cool. Carly Rae Jepsen wears jeans with holes in them and dyes her hair cool colors.

Taylor Swift falls in love. Taylor Swift waits on a throne for men to come to her and declare their all-consuming passion. Carly Rae Jepsen makes the first move. Carly Rae Jepsen has crushes and falls for the wrong guy and says the wrong thing. Carly Rae Jepsen knows she’d never change herself for any guy.

Taylor Swift gets in cars with reckless drivers, who drive without headlights. Carly Rae Jepsen is the reckless driver, going too fast and running red lights.

Boys drive past Taylor Swift’s house. Carly Rae Jepsen drives past boys’ houses.

Taylor Swift gets mad when the Queens of Comedy and All that is Perfect in this Flawed World (Tina Fey and Amy Poehler) make jokes at her expense. Carly Rae Jepsen is a guest on fake, comedy talk shows.

Taylor Swift would never let the wind blow through her hair with the top down. Taylor Swift wears a scarf. Carly Rae Jepsen likes the feel of the wind. Carly Rae Jepsen gets knots in her hair.

Taylor Swift gets rescued. Carly Rae Jepsen rescues.

Taylor Swift dances in ball gowns. Carly Rae Jepsen didn’t JUST come to dance, if you know what she means.

Both Taylor Swift and Carly Rae Jepsen fight in rainstorms though, so, either way I’ve got that.

Disclaimer: I love both Taylor and Carly Rae. I own every Taylor album and even attended the Red tour. These observations are solely based on listening to E*Mo*Tion incessantly and the jealousy I feel after stalking Taylor Swift’s Instagram. This disclaimer is because I am very afraid of Taylor’s squad.