DID YOU MISS ME? Welcome back to Moments of Pause, a weekly catalogue of whatever’s been needling you: a list of all the things so odd/pertinent/funny/serious/catchy/confusing that you just had to throw 10 overripe bananas in a blender and “carb the fuck up” (see below). For our 6th (admittedly belated) edition, here is a collage of the very important things that stuck in a handful of contributors’ brains this past week, those shiver-inducing gag-reflexive oh-so-edifying moments of pause that define life (OR IS IT) in the 21st Century.
1. A Furtive, Slimy Confession and Confirmation of Self— Justine Beed
Sometimes I check in on my Facebook profile to make sure I am who I think I am. I’m usually not.
2. The Real Reason Anyone Goes to Museums and/or Xiu Xiu Concerts… — Katie Nesser
“I’ve experienced quite a bit of life-changing culture in my life by way of trying to get laid.”
I saw this tweet from film critic Matt Zoller Seitz and, curled up on my bed, alone, whispered “same.” I was listening to Merzbow because for some reason I thought that would bring all the noise music loving boys to my yard??? Which seems painfully misguided now that I’m typing it. Anyway, it didn’t work. But I really like Merzbow now so guess who’s coming out ahead.
3. Story of My Life — Nikki Tran
A friend recently group-texted me a picture of herself with a boy whose hair was not unlike that of young Louis XIV. Sensing that this was more than just a photo (based on the number of exclamation points and asdfgs and OMGs elicited by the others in the group), I asked a ProFro who the boy was. ‘Twas Harry Styles, apparently. I have never felt so old.
Now, I understand the fangirl psyche – the hours spent replaying grainy, ten-minute video collages set to “Because of You” – but my friend’s fav 1D songs are quite similar to those of minivan moms everywhere: “the ones on the radio.” I am no poser-police, critiquing the cameras rolls of aging teenyboppers and, yet my friend’s pseudo-affection – snapping pics with celebrities whose star status is hazy and current existence will only serve as a humble brag (re: “So this happened”) – leaves me feeling jaundiced (thank god Apple now has an emoji for that).
My friend’s photo, which has amassed 202 Facebook likes, 641 Twitter favorites, and comments like “Congrats” and “So excited for you,” makes me sad because it reminds me of the time when Miley Cyrus tweeted me, which I referred to as my greatest accomplishment. I wished someone had taken me aside and told me: You don’t know you’re pitiful. Maybe, then, I would have led a different life and have friends with better taste in music. Still, perhaps, this is a step in the right direction.
4. Asses to asses… — Eric Eich, Community & Events Manager and Campus Peeper
This really puts the P in R.I.P.
5. Java Monologues — Victor Liu, Visual Arts Editor
Peet’s Iced Frappes aka “The New Javiva.”
Juh-vai-vuh. My sin, my soul. Ja. Vi. Va.
Every time I pass a Peet’s, I remember that the name “Javiva” somehow made its way past countless levels of corporate bureaucracy to reveal itself publicly in its full labial glory.
Why am I the only one laughing? Come on, marketers. Freud would have something to say about repressed thoughts. If the man saw vaginas in cabinets, I can in coffee.
6. ROLLOUTS — Bojan Srb, Incoming Editor in Chief
I recently heard someone say: “Yes, I’ve been rolled out every quarter since I came to Stanford. I love everything about the idea.”
There are many things at this postmodern clusterfuck of a university that I will gladly tolerate. Tour guides – sure. Gaieties – why not. Fuck, I even twerked for global health. But 4 am is a time reserved for sleep, pushing over your sleeping mate for releasing vile fumes under your comforter, and the crippling anxiety that you’re not good enough.
Ah, the crack of dawn. What a time to be alive.
7. The Question — Anonymous
Do dads still finger moms?
*Editor’s Note: Damn. You really got me thinking.*
8. Rawtil4 “What I Ate Today” Videos — Brittany Newell, Culture Editor and Anemic
I am fucking obsessed with these videos. It’s sort of like 2 Girls 1 Cup as performed by deer. One watches chirpy Australian skeletons eat 2 watermelons for brekkie then somehow open the trapdoors of their dwindling gullets two hours later to swallow 8 liquified peaches with chopped up cilantro “for taste.”
I am no dietician but if I had to guess the grand secret to this culty fruitarian lifestyle, I would wager that it has less to do with the magical nutritional yield of bananas when eaten by the keg load (THESE PEOPLE LITERALLY EAT THEIR DINNER OUT OF CUTELY-PAINTED TROUGHS) but rather to do with what I suspect is a semi-constant stream of diarrhea to which one gradually, serenely, adjusts. Namaste, right? I mean, these people are essentially fruit tubes. FRUIT TUBES.
Regardless, there is something intensely soothing about watching those knobby fingers massage mango after mango….who knew the gross-out lure of competitive eating could combine so beautifully with fiber-rich Freudian fixation and friendly former anorexics? Carb up, if you dare.