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![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) gramarye1971 | |
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I realise that I've completely neglected to mention anything about last weekend's Berlin Wall conference, which went very well overall with only a few minor logistical annoyances towards the end.* My vague notes: - Flu season hit the presenters very badly this year. Of the two-dozen-odd presenters, four had to cancel because of illness, including one of the presenters on my panel who I'd really hoped to hear (because his presentation was about Michael Frayn's play Democracy). Somewhat inevitable, I suppose, but depressing all the same. - They fed us well, with nice lunches for the presenters and plenty of cookies and coffee to keep us going in between panel sessions. Considering that the conference was covered entirely by grants and was free for both presenters and attendees, this was most welcome. - My own presentation went smoothly, thanks to a nice PowerPoint setup that let me show the slides of anime screencaps and manga scans that I'd pulled together. More than one person spoke to me afterwards and said that they'd enjoyed the presentation, which was wonderful but also made me sad all over again that the Master Keaton manga isn't available in English and the DVDs are increasingly difficult to find ever since Geneon went under. - The keynote speakers were split between fascinating and phoning-it-in dull, about what I've come to expect from conferences. The other presentations were interesting if a bit theory-heavy for my taste. I am very much Not A Theory Person, although since quite a few presentations were on literature I should have expected that people would be tossing Bakhtin and Durkheim around. - I picked up a few business cards and had one prof. from Vancouver ask me if I could do a bit of paid research for him in the Library of Congress at some point in 2010. Not like he'd have to twist my arm to do it, of course. ^_^ - Coming back on Tuesday, the combination of physical tiredness, typical post-con emotional exhaustion, and nagging intellectual doubts put me in a bad mental state from which it's been difficult to emerge. I could make a much longer post on that bad mental state, except that it would get so tl;dr that even I wouldn't want to read it. So all in all, a good conference that made me happy about introducing Japanese animation to a bunch of German studies people. And during the post-presentation discussion, I mentioned and described the Koizumi mah-jongg manga as an example of a manga series making topical political commentary -- which got a huge laugh from the audience. Less than a month until the next conference, so I should probably get cracking on that paper. But my apartment is a dusty mess, so tidying up and cooking meals for the week will have to come first today. * The annoyances stem from my general dislike of carrying cash. Cash, to me, is a temptation to spend because it's ready money in hand, so I almost never have more than $10 (or £10) in my wallet at any given time. This because problematic when I realised that I had to tip both the hotel staff and airport shuttle driver on the same day, and led to a frantic and embarrassing scramble for pocket change.
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planetx | |
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Originally published at jaredaxelrod.com. You can comment here or there. Sometimes, mythical creatures burst into being. The borders between fiction and reality are thin, and sometimes—like, say 2am on Saturday—they appear to you. Just such a thing happened to JR and I tonight, on our way home from Shadowland (which, frankly, is a little too fitting). Standing by the side of the road, looking lost and forlorn, stood two creatures out of myth and legend.
I speak of course, of the Magical Pixie Dream Girl. One is rare indeed. But two? That, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle.
These two beautiful young ladies in their tiny black dresses and ballet flats flagged down our car, asking us if we could drive them to 3rd and Chesnut. One of them, the brunette, had left her credit card there. Seeing no harm in driving two tiny twenty-somethings a few blocks, JR and I agreed, and they climbed in.
“We’ll give you money,” the blonde said. I assured her that would not be necessary. Both of the girls were clearly smashed out of their skulls, though the blonde more so than the brunette. She was the louder of the two.
“What’s your favorite bands?” she asked. “Top three. C’mon!”
We admitted that we did not actually know our favorite bands—it’s one of those questions that really should have come up before but hadn’t, and we tried to steer the subject away. But neither girl was having it.
“How long have you been dating, if you don’t your favorite bands?” the burnette asked. We told them we were married, which was met with squeals and clapped hands. “Tell us your bands. We’re music snobs.”
It then came out that my current favorite bands are, in fact, The New Pornographers, The Veils, and P.O.S.—the last two the brunette had not heard of, and it blew her mind—and JR’s were Ani DiFranco, Regina Spector, and she was cut off before she could get out a third.
“Those are so awesome,” the brunette said. “Are you a feminist?” JR said that yes, she was. This brought more squeals of joy from the two girls.
“VAGINAS!!!” yelled the blonde, her head out the window. “VVVVVVAAAAAAAGGGINAS!!!!”
The conversation then turned to how awesome I am—“So awesome”—and how hot JR is—“So hot”—which then led to the inevitable question. Would it be okay if they made out JR?
“You’re so hot,” said the blonde to JR, to which the brunette agreed. “Let’s make out. Would that be cool?”
“Lay off,” said the brunette. “They said they were married.”
“She can do it if she wants to. Look at her. She’s so hot. She’s got his balls in her hand.” JR protested that she does not like to make out with people she doesn’t know. “It’s because you think I’m ugly, isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” JR said. “You could be a model. If you told me you used to be a model, but you quit to go to school, I would have believed you.” I agreed with this.
“So I not pretty enough for you,” the blonde said, pouting and following her own train of logic. “I just want to make out with someone,”
“I’ll make out with you,” said the brunette.
“Shut up, Allie.” This was the first mention of either of their names. Katelyn and Allie. We pressed for more information. Allie liked Led Zepplin, but recently was turned on to folk music (“My friends from college would kill me if they knew I was into folk music”). Katelyn was a die-hard follower of Bob Dylan.
“My mom toured with Bob Dylan,” Katelyn said. “And my father toured with Eric Clapton. That’s how they met. And then, they fucked,” this was punctuated with a clap, and then a collapse back into the seat. “And that’s how I got here. I am so smashed. I just want to get something to eat, make out, and get fucked. Can we go back to the hotel?”
Making out and getting fucked was floated up several times—with the suggestion all four of us would be involved—and it was the combination of that and the notion of a hotel that became clear that these were no ordinary girls. These were Magical Pixie Dream Girls, the mythical creatures bi-curious couples seek out, hoping to add a third sexual partner for a night of debauchery, only to disappear back where they came from (in Katelyn and Allie’s case, that would be the Bronx), never to be seen from again.
These unicorns, these centaurs, these nymphs of legend were in the back seat of our car, pleading with us to talk about bands and make out with them and take them back to their hotel.
Naturally, we dropped them off at their originally specified destination (though not without circling it three times), and sent them on their way.
“My vagina’s hanging out,” Katelyn said as she got out of the car, adjusting her skirt. “Do you guys want money?”
No, Magical Pixie Dream Girls. The story is payment enough. Tags: real life
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blackwell | |
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Dear Katelyn and Allie, the magical pixie dreamgirls my husband and I met tonight on 3rd and Walnut;
Ladies, I just wanted to write to you to say that it was a delight to have you in our car. Our night was going well to begin with - we went to a birthday party, saw a play and then went to a club, but our night was absolutely MADE when we met you, magical pixie dreamgirls.
We are always up for adventure, so when we saw you waving your hands and pointing at us from the corner of 3rd and Walnut, we pulled over. We wondered if you were in trouble and needed assistance, you certantly looked like you might, with the way you were flagging us down, but truthfully, part of our reason for pulling over was that you are both so hot! Who in their right minds could resist two twenty something petite, athletic ladies, a blond and a brunette, in short dresses and little ballet flats.
Certainly not us.
When you asked for a ride for three blocks because Allie had left her credit card with the bartender, it was a small enough request, and we were glad to oblige. I must say that perhaps part of my reason for accepting you into our car (and our lives for the next 15 minutes) was that you said I was super hot, but there were other factors as well, magical pixie dreamgirls, among them your vivacious and energetic behavior, your repeated requests to hear what our favorite bands were, and the wafting and sweet smell of liquor that radiated off of both of you.
You asked us to take you three blocks, but you were so charming and you seemed to find us such characters, that you asked to be taken around the block again, not twice but three times, as you asked about our favorite bands. I was impressed by your knoweldge of bands, and Katelyn, I think it's adorable that your parents met because they were both on tour.
Allie, yes, it's true, I am a feminist. I'm amazed that you were able to tell that from the bands I like.
Katelyn, I want you in particular to know that I was very flattered and dare I say it. . .tempted by your offer to make out with me. While I'm sure my husband wouldn't have objected, I felt ackward at the proposition of making out with someone I just met, but you shouldn't take this as a rejection of your personal qualities, as you are quite attractive and charming.
I hope that both of you achieve your stated goals of:
1. Getting wasted.
2. Getting something to eat.
3. Getting fucked.
In whatever order you hope to achieve them.
It was delightful talking to you, and I'm glad you wanted to know enough about us that you asked us to take you around the block, not once or twice but three times. I hope you both got back to your hotel safely and that your travel back to NYC goes well. Katelyn, while your skirt was riding up in the car, your vagina was not hanging out, so no need to worry.
Thinking about our encounter, I find it doubtful that anyone we know will believe us when we tell them about you. I mean, who picks up two beautiful, intelligent women on the side of the road in Philadelphia, one of whom wants to make out, and then just drops them off again, but we know the truth, right? If you were a hallucination, or if you were summoned by magic, pixie dream girls, then I don't want to know. It was a delight to meet you. I hope that you both go on to have amazing lives.
Sincerely,
The couple in the black Civic who picked you up on 3rd and Walnut
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