Location: Long Beach
Event: Jungle party
Mood: ignorant bliss.
Who: Amber, three (ridiculously good looking) water polo players, myself.
Soon after 2008's numerous (and quite successful) Halloween exploits, Amber and I made the decision to try our hand as honored guests of several events put on by friends of friends (of friends).
Everything went terribly well until we arrived at party #2, of Friday #3, which was, well....er, unexpectedly themed. Birthday girl called us out, and, not to be outdone, we just stood there staring at each other, in the bliss of that terribly awkward moment in which neither of us could think of anything intelligent to say except "Uuuhhhh, jungle attire!?"
We took the (quite attractive) water polo players we had brought with us, dropped them off at home, and took off for party #3 which was, unexpectedly, further than we thought, and not quite where I expected to be (but let's not get caught up in details).
In the silence of the wee hours of the morning, partyless and exhausted from our unsuccessful exploits, Amber had an epiphane:
"They can't do this to us. We're intellectuals."
Me: "You're right. This is us we're talking about - don't they know who we ARE!?"
Amber: "We showed them. We took all the boys, and who throws a jungle party anyways? Lame."
Me: "Yep. Lame."
We tried to explain it to her brothers the next day, and they just stared at us. Closely followed by a collective, "You guys are idiots."
This, one of countless moments in which we enjoyed being exactly who, what, and where we were (possibly too much).
I think, more than anything, that my friendship with Amber, in particular, has taught me to do that. Whether we're getting excited over free fountain drinks, telling the story of how I thought I was dying the (only) time I smoked hookah, making our waiter laugh, lying to the fireman to my right, or I'm laughing too hard to save her from the crazed woman to her left giving her kisses while she silently mouths "HELP ME!", we're always managing to somehow spend our time celebrating exactly who we are.
This month, I'd like to provide a platform for just that. A celebration of who we are - as women. Because whether I'm arriving to class disheveled because the top on my convertible wasn't all the way closed and it flew open on the 405 (happened yesterday), or wearing polka dotted rain boots on the day it was (unexpectedly) sunny (happened last month), exactly what I am is the best I've got.
Look out for a new series on the women I adore, and want to celebrate - starting tomorrow.
photo via LIFE magazine. I was told it looks a terrible lot like me. (I plan on teasing my hair and getting white pants, STAT).