The Most Ironic Moment of My Life
Hello. Guess who's busy these days... guess... really, guess.
Did you guess ME? If so, you are correct. (I'm sure many other answers are correct, but you needed to pick the *best* answer...)
My brain is buzzing with Durkheim and Marx and others from Sociological Theory, the structure of memory and the encoding process, and how these two things relate to questionnaire design, bivariate statistical analysis, and of course, planning my 101 lecture. BZZZZZ. (That's my brain.)
Instead of talking about what's been happening recently in my world, I'm going to recount for you a story that happened last August while I was visiting a friend in Washington D.C., which I have finally decided is the most ironic moment of my life...
So, I was visiting my friend Jessie. We were out in Adams Morgan with a bunch of her other friends. A friend of one of her friends... let's call her Maggie... tagged along as well.
We spent a few hours at a tiny Mexican restaurant, feasting on burritos and chimichangas - and several pitchers of frozen margaritas.
When it was time to leave, Jessie's friend of a friend Maggie was very very .... very.... drunk. We wandered along the street looking for some other places to visit. Most of us decided on a bar called the Pharmacy (or something like that).
Maggie decided on a tattoo parlor. She just HAD to go in. "Guys, I just GOTTA do this!"
In the window of the parlor was a big sign "We do not serve anyone under the influence of drugs or alcohol."
Right.
I went to the bar with a few others. Maggie and her friend went to the tattoo parlor. An hour or so (and a few vodka cranberries) later, the tattoo posse joined us at the bar.
Here's the ironic part....
Maggie rolls up her left sleeve to show us the artwork. She's very proud (and still very drunk, somehow). She raves about how excited she is about her on-the-fly decision.
On the underside of her forearm - just before the elbow - is a word in black ink, readable primarily to Maggie.
The word?
Patience.
Did you guess ME? If so, you are correct. (I'm sure many other answers are correct, but you needed to pick the *best* answer...)
My brain is buzzing with Durkheim and Marx and others from Sociological Theory, the structure of memory and the encoding process, and how these two things relate to questionnaire design, bivariate statistical analysis, and of course, planning my 101 lecture. BZZZZZ. (That's my brain.)
Instead of talking about what's been happening recently in my world, I'm going to recount for you a story that happened last August while I was visiting a friend in Washington D.C., which I have finally decided is the most ironic moment of my life...
So, I was visiting my friend Jessie. We were out in Adams Morgan with a bunch of her other friends. A friend of one of her friends... let's call her Maggie... tagged along as well.
We spent a few hours at a tiny Mexican restaurant, feasting on burritos and chimichangas - and several pitchers of frozen margaritas.
When it was time to leave, Jessie's friend of a friend Maggie was very very .... very.... drunk. We wandered along the street looking for some other places to visit. Most of us decided on a bar called the Pharmacy (or something like that).
Maggie decided on a tattoo parlor. She just HAD to go in. "Guys, I just GOTTA do this!"
In the window of the parlor was a big sign "We do not serve anyone under the influence of drugs or alcohol."
Right.
I went to the bar with a few others. Maggie and her friend went to the tattoo parlor. An hour or so (and a few vodka cranberries) later, the tattoo posse joined us at the bar.
Here's the ironic part....
Maggie rolls up her left sleeve to show us the artwork. She's very proud (and still very drunk, somehow). She raves about how excited she is about her on-the-fly decision.
On the underside of her forearm - just before the elbow - is a word in black ink, readable primarily to Maggie.
The word?
Patience.
posted by Laura at
3:59 PM
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