out of whack
My friend Rose has no sense of proportion whatsoever. I think it's because she comes from a huge, liberal, Catholic (happy, close, loving!) family and she's got the personality of a golden retriever -- she expects the whole world to hold her like her perfect, giant, wonderful family holds her and she romps and sniffs her way through life with all the grace of a big, clumsy, loveable dog.
Rose's latest act of disproportion is minor in comparison but serves as a perfect illustration. We are supposed to meet up for happy hour drinks on Thursday. We both work downtown and "happy hour drinks," as a well-recognized institution, can be understood to mean we will meet at a bar central to our workplaces which offers a happy hour special and/or at the time of such "happy hour." Rose, however, as usual, wants to make a modification. Rose is house-sitting for people out in St. Johns who have given her free reign of their liquor cabinet and she wants to hang out there.
What's so bad about free drinks in St. Johns? I'll tell you. For one thing, St. Johns is way the hell out of the way. It's nowhere near downtown where we both work and it's completely and utterly inconvenient. For another thing, St. Johns is depressing. For one more thing, we're not in high-school, for christ's sake, and raiding somebody else's liquor cabinet just doesn't sound so appealing. I want to sit in a nice, interesting bar with strangers all around for entertainment, I want to drink a cheap drink or two and chat, and then I want to leave. And when I leave, I don't want to be leaving from all the way out in St. Johns and driving (after *drinking* mind you) all the way back into town. No way.
While this is typical of Rose's misappropriation of fun plans, it is not extreme. My favorite example is as follows: every year our school has a fundraising auction to support the Public Interest Law Project's loan forgiveness program. People donate all sorts of things including seven-night stays in cabins in far flung places like Eastern Oregon. For nine. For some reason, Rose (whose sense of proportion was at an all time low on this fateful night) decided that a week long trip for nine to Eastern Oregon would be a great idea and not only did she bid on this trip, she won it. I can't remember how many hundreds of dollars she paid for this disaster, but as far as I know, she has yet to bring the trip to fruition.
What's so bad about a week for nine in Eastern Oregon with Rose? I'll tell you. For one thing, Eastern Oregon is way the hell out of the way. The cabin was about a six hour drive from Portland. That's no fun. For another thing, Eastern Oregon is boring unless you can afford to ski or do something else fun. For one more thing, we're not in high-school, for christ's sake, and a week long pajama party with 8 of our closest friends doesn't even sound fun, much less feasible. What nine people do you know who could coordinate one week during which all nine could be off from work, school and life-responsibilities?? And if you *could* find nine people willing and able to accomplish such a feat, you can bet they wouldn't do it for a trip to Eastern Oregon. Maybe an all-expenses paid trip to Tahiti or something, but Eastern Oregon? Come on, Rose, what were you thinking?
Rose is sweet. Rose is friendly. Rose is missing some important software that helps her understand what the world can handle and what the world just won't accomodate. She more than proves my theory that sibling dynamics inform all your relationships forever. A week in a cabin for nine probably sounded like a page out of the family play-book when she saw it on the auction block. However -- sadly -- none of her friend were playing by the same book. Poor Rose.
Rose's latest act of disproportion is minor in comparison but serves as a perfect illustration. We are supposed to meet up for happy hour drinks on Thursday. We both work downtown and "happy hour drinks," as a well-recognized institution, can be understood to mean we will meet at a bar central to our workplaces which offers a happy hour special and/or at the time of such "happy hour." Rose, however, as usual, wants to make a modification. Rose is house-sitting for people out in St. Johns who have given her free reign of their liquor cabinet and she wants to hang out there.
What's so bad about free drinks in St. Johns? I'll tell you. For one thing, St. Johns is way the hell out of the way. It's nowhere near downtown where we both work and it's completely and utterly inconvenient. For another thing, St. Johns is depressing. For one more thing, we're not in high-school, for christ's sake, and raiding somebody else's liquor cabinet just doesn't sound so appealing. I want to sit in a nice, interesting bar with strangers all around for entertainment, I want to drink a cheap drink or two and chat, and then I want to leave. And when I leave, I don't want to be leaving from all the way out in St. Johns and driving (after *drinking* mind you) all the way back into town. No way.
While this is typical of Rose's misappropriation of fun plans, it is not extreme. My favorite example is as follows: every year our school has a fundraising auction to support the Public Interest Law Project's loan forgiveness program. People donate all sorts of things including seven-night stays in cabins in far flung places like Eastern Oregon. For nine. For some reason, Rose (whose sense of proportion was at an all time low on this fateful night) decided that a week long trip for nine to Eastern Oregon would be a great idea and not only did she bid on this trip, she won it. I can't remember how many hundreds of dollars she paid for this disaster, but as far as I know, she has yet to bring the trip to fruition.
What's so bad about a week for nine in Eastern Oregon with Rose? I'll tell you. For one thing, Eastern Oregon is way the hell out of the way. The cabin was about a six hour drive from Portland. That's no fun. For another thing, Eastern Oregon is boring unless you can afford to ski or do something else fun. For one more thing, we're not in high-school, for christ's sake, and a week long pajama party with 8 of our closest friends doesn't even sound fun, much less feasible. What nine people do you know who could coordinate one week during which all nine could be off from work, school and life-responsibilities?? And if you *could* find nine people willing and able to accomplish such a feat, you can bet they wouldn't do it for a trip to Eastern Oregon. Maybe an all-expenses paid trip to Tahiti or something, but Eastern Oregon? Come on, Rose, what were you thinking?
Rose is sweet. Rose is friendly. Rose is missing some important software that helps her understand what the world can handle and what the world just won't accomodate. She more than proves my theory that sibling dynamics inform all your relationships forever. A week in a cabin for nine probably sounded like a page out of the family play-book when she saw it on the auction block. However -- sadly -- none of her friend were playing by the same book. Poor Rose.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 2:36 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home