Cassie was telling a story about pescatarianism and her vulnerability to peer pressure, standing next to her co-facilitator from Cal's Female Sexuality De-Cal class. In that class, they try to create an environment which fosters an open, comfortable discussion of sex, and relationships, and all subjects in that vein. As such, the language used in the class is designed to be as inclusive and non-judgmental as possible. You don't say "boyfriend" or "girlfriend", you say "partner".
Cassie got to a stage in her story that involved our mutual friend and his girlfriend, and I mentioned that she said "partner". Of course, she was with her co-facilitator, so that made sense. Seconds later, after another couple joined our group, she had switched back to "girlfriend". Peer pressure.
For some reason, our tub is filthy. I'm not sure I can invent a scenario for what might have happened in there. If anyone has a good lead, let me know.
UPDATE: An anonymous tipster has informed me that, because the music was most audible in the bathroom, a group of people (I don't want to single anyone out, but their name rhymes with shmanarchists) had a dance party in there, and some people danced in the tub. On the plus side, the oppressive capitalist structure of our bathroom has been overthrown, just like it was at Noe Street.
According to more than one beautiful woman, my bed is extremely soft and comfortable, and my comforter smells nice.
I slept alone last night.
What Do You Do?
At college parties, the standard icebreaker question is, "What's your major?" At grown-up parties, it shifts to "What do you do?" For years, I have been making the mistake of giving long answers to small talk questions. Someone asks me wh at I do, and I explain, "Well, we provide representation for indigent defendants, provided they were presented by a public defender at trial, and their offense was a felony --", at which point the person's eyes have already begun to gloss over. Small talk, long answer.
However, I can now fall back on my default college party answer of, "Actually, I'm a filmmaker". It's even a little bit true now. When you say you're a filmmaker, people are instantly interested. They want to know the details of your religious road comedy about surfing, your buddy cop movie about mismatched UCPD officers, how you're planning to do the puppetry for the marijuana-smoking robot. Small talk becomes large talk. People have input about casting choices. They suggest titles, and offer to call friends who work for production companies. People get excited - about your job. Honestly, I should have become a filmmaker years ago.
The incorrect answer to the standard icebreaker question is, "I work for Raytheon and there are eight full-size beds in my townhouse." On a related note, I'm proud to announce that Zembla is now the #1 Google result for "worstie".
The array of available adult beverages was simply breathtaking, as our gathering had an "international" theme. A few guests were confounded by the recipe for White Russians, which stipulated that drinkers use an "old fashioned glass" for their cocktail. "What is an old fashioned glass?" one confused former bass player asked. "Should it look like an antique?" I thought we might have to break out the "No Sex Before Marriage" and "The Guy Should Be THe One To Ask The Girl Out" coffee mugs for the occasion.
In reality, an old fashioned glass is simply a heavy glass that holds 8-10 ounces of liquid. It is ideal for drinks served "on the rocks", or chilled shots that contain juices. An old fashioned glass is one Leo McGarry could appreciate - thick, with a heavy base.
We have a few of those glasses, but we didn't know those were what we were looking for on Saturday night. So we opted for the disposable plastic cups, or as I like to call them, "newfangled glasses".
Newfangled glasses are pretty great in their own right. I love the sound a melting ice cube makes when you drop it onto a flimsy plastic cup from just the right height. Too high, and you knock the plastic cup onto its side. Knock the plastic cup over, the paper umbrella will get wet too fast in the drink. But you get those things right, and it's absolutely the newfangledest White Russian you could ever hope to drink. Plus, there's a paper umbrella inside.