|Weebles Wobbles, Tuna Staggers
||[Oct. 2nd, 2008|09:23 am]
In high school I had a friend who was...Reubenesque. Well, more than me. The hip fairy didn't visit me until college, but Weebles had some serious curves back then. She has some serious curves now, but found exercise and is fit and aging beautifully. Bitch. |
We used to double-date,
Procure one car and one bottle of vodka. Stop off at Dairymart and buy a 2 liter bottle of diet Sprite and a large bag of M&Ms. One couple in front, one in the back. Drive up route 17, pouring out half of the bottle of diet Sprite. Replace missing Sprite with Vodka. (It's okay, I'm shuddering too.)
Drive around Wesleyan campus, alternating chilling, eating M&Ms, drinking vodka-sprite and low-key necking with driving madly out of parking lots and secluded areas, evading campus police. (Which was sort of silly, in retrospect. We lived out in a pretty countrified area. There were thousands of secluded areas where we could have not been bothered. But we did like to get out of the car and wander around campus a little. You know, socialize...
Weebles got her name because, well, she was roundish shaped, if you ignored her waist, and when she got drunk (which was sort of the point of the evening) she would...wobble.
You're wondering about Tuna. That was me. Taken from one of my "dates" who bragged to Weebles' boyfriend that "tonight, I'm going to harpoon a Tuna!" I was tallish and a swimmer? Pointy nose? My personal odeur, if any, was "horse" or Downy Fabric Softener, so I know he wasn't referring to THAT.
But, being semi-offensive and sort of inappropriate, I immediately adopted it as a nickname.
Note: it was a high school nickname. It's not funny NOW. So...don't. Unless you're dying to see my semi-pained weak smile and get on my "people who can't take a hint" list.
Secondary Note: He did NOT get to harpoon the Tuna that night, as I had already perfected my "how to get a guy drunk enough that he passes out before he gets too unruly, but not so much that he pukes on you" method, that, along with going out with a lot of gay boys, enabled me to choose my time and place.
But anyway, while Weebles wobbled when she was drunk, she didn't fall down, thanks to a low center of gravity and the fact that she was usually accompanied by Tuna. Who staggered. Often into Weebles, who would wobble. But she would wobble right into my stagger and upright us both.
We were an effective team. And we never, EVER fell down.
I only bring this up because today, for some reason, several times I have caught myself lurching -- around corners, down the hallway. Lurching, of course, is what happens to staggerers when they are sober. Failure to stretch this morning? Beginnings of a sinus or inner ear issue? These damn shoes catching on the carpet? I dunno.
But let me assure you, if I am still lurching this weekend, I am NOT finding my own inner Jack Sparrow.