I've been cold all day here in Phoenix, so I'm wrapped up in a blanket and sipping a cup of tea, which, as an Arizona native, I find to be a DELIGHTFUL novelty. I know what you're thinking: that's f@%king gay. And you are correct, my dear reader! You are correct. But before you drive me out into the Wyoming wilderness, pistol whip me beyond recognition and then leave me to freeze to death (and then show up to my funeral with hateful signs and banners to let my family know I deserved what I got for being gay... as any good Christian would do), let me remind you that, if you're reading this from Arizona, YOU are most likely a full-fledged homosexual yourself.
Why? Because being from Arizona is totally gay. We don't have seasons, and it gives us a mentality surpassed in gayness only by "High School: The Musical."
You always want what you can't have, right? In Phoenix, we can't have seasons like the rest of the country does, but around this time of year, our televisions and movie screens are bombarded with national media that associate the magical holiday season with an actual season known as winter, with snow and hot cocoa (or tea for those of us with abnormal pancreases... pancrei... pancreoxen) and icicles and stuff. This notion of "winter" becomes romanticized in our sand-filled, sun-bleached heads, and before we know it, we're DYING for a chance to assimilate ourselves into meteorological hegemony and participate in anything we have been programmed to perceive as Christmasy, up to and including a Woodland Critter Christmas Satan-Worshipping Blood Orgy:
Those of you who have seen that episode of "South Park" are probably laughing right now. Those of you who haven't are probably feeling REALLY creeped out right about now.
But anyway, for me, replicating American meteorological hegemony means blankets and tea. I have one blanket, which I just rescued from a storage bin today. I'll probably keep it around for 2 months, and then when things start heating up above 80 degrees again in February, I'll put it back into storage. I have 5 different boxes of tea in my cupboard. They're from last year or even earlier. What the hell is a Phoenix resident doing with 5 boxes of tea? I haven't even opened 2 of them! It never even OCCURS to me to drink tea except for those 3 times during a 365-day year when I'm home and I'm feeling cold. I guess it's just because I've spent SO much of my life trying to keep from dying of heat exhaustion that, when I actually feel cold, I kinda get off on it. I'm sure if it ever snowed here in Phoenix, I'd pass out from multiple weather-induced orgasms.
I'm sure there are others like me. And I'm sure that, just like I have 5 barely-used boxes of tea taking up space in my cupboard (just in case I need THAT much selection during the 3 days when it's actually cold enough to drink tea), there's some homo in Anchorage, Alaska who has dedicated an entire dresser drawer to his vast collection of bathing suits and suntan oil. So since I'm getting off on this blanket and this cup of tea, it's easy for me to fantasize about the life I would have in Astoria, Oregon. I've already told most of y'all that I was offered the job at the college in Astoria and have turned it down.
I know Brittney. It makes me wanna cry too.
If I had a family (or even a boyfriend), I know I could move up there and be happy. I could afford to spend $3,000 moving up there and teach basic Spanish and French grammar for several years. It's just a big move to make on your own, and when you move on your own, you want it to be somewhere with a social network you can fit into. Small town: not so much (regardless of how liberal it is). Grad school is perfect for that. Let's face it: I'm 28, single, and I'm up to the challenge a PhD presents. I feel good about my decision, despite the fact that right now I'd LOVE to be sipping this tea and looking out at the Columbia River or the Pacific Ocean preparing my syllabi and class presentations for the upcoming term. Oh well.
Did I mention that my roommate Bret is fat? It's disgusting.
Why? Because being from Arizona is totally gay. We don't have seasons, and it gives us a mentality surpassed in gayness only by "High School: The Musical."
You always want what you can't have, right? In Phoenix, we can't have seasons like the rest of the country does, but around this time of year, our televisions and movie screens are bombarded with national media that associate the magical holiday season with an actual season known as winter, with snow and hot cocoa (or tea for those of us with abnormal pancreases... pancrei... pancreoxen) and icicles and stuff. This notion of "winter" becomes romanticized in our sand-filled, sun-bleached heads, and before we know it, we're DYING for a chance to assimilate ourselves into meteorological hegemony and participate in anything we have been programmed to perceive as Christmasy, up to and including a Woodland Critter Christmas Satan-Worshipping Blood Orgy:
Those of you who have seen that episode of "South Park" are probably laughing right now. Those of you who haven't are probably feeling REALLY creeped out right about now.
But anyway, for me, replicating American meteorological hegemony means blankets and tea. I have one blanket, which I just rescued from a storage bin today. I'll probably keep it around for 2 months, and then when things start heating up above 80 degrees again in February, I'll put it back into storage. I have 5 different boxes of tea in my cupboard. They're from last year or even earlier. What the hell is a Phoenix resident doing with 5 boxes of tea? I haven't even opened 2 of them! It never even OCCURS to me to drink tea except for those 3 times during a 365-day year when I'm home and I'm feeling cold. I guess it's just because I've spent SO much of my life trying to keep from dying of heat exhaustion that, when I actually feel cold, I kinda get off on it. I'm sure if it ever snowed here in Phoenix, I'd pass out from multiple weather-induced orgasms.
I'm sure there are others like me. And I'm sure that, just like I have 5 barely-used boxes of tea taking up space in my cupboard (just in case I need THAT much selection during the 3 days when it's actually cold enough to drink tea), there's some homo in Anchorage, Alaska who has dedicated an entire dresser drawer to his vast collection of bathing suits and suntan oil. So since I'm getting off on this blanket and this cup of tea, it's easy for me to fantasize about the life I would have in Astoria, Oregon. I've already told most of y'all that I was offered the job at the college in Astoria and have turned it down.
I know Brittney. It makes me wanna cry too.
If I had a family (or even a boyfriend), I know I could move up there and be happy. I could afford to spend $3,000 moving up there and teach basic Spanish and French grammar for several years. It's just a big move to make on your own, and when you move on your own, you want it to be somewhere with a social network you can fit into. Small town: not so much (regardless of how liberal it is). Grad school is perfect for that. Let's face it: I'm 28, single, and I'm up to the challenge a PhD presents. I feel good about my decision, despite the fact that right now I'd LOVE to be sipping this tea and looking out at the Columbia River or the Pacific Ocean preparing my syllabi and class presentations for the upcoming term. Oh well.
Did I mention that my roommate Bret is fat? It's disgusting.
posted by Charlie at 6:05 PM
2 Comments:
haha, so true!
-jenn
That's a mighty flattering picture of me St. George.
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