Do you remember that moment in Wet Hot American Summer when all of the counselors are just hanging out in front of one of the cabins on the last day of camp and Susie’s like, “you guys, I’m really going to miss this place,” and Coop’s like, “me too,” and then Ben’s like, “hey, let’s all promise that in ten years from today, we'll meet again, and we'll see what kind of people we've blossomed into,” and then everyone’s exciting about that idea and Susie’s like, “yeah!” and then Ben’s like, “What time do you wanna meet?” and then JJ asks, “you mean ten years from now?” and then Coop interjects and says, “let's meet in the morning so we can make a day of it,” and then Susie’s all, “okay, so what is it? Is it like 9:00? 9:30?” and then Coop says, “well, let's say 9:00, that way we can be here by 9:30” and then McKinley gets all pissy and shit and he’s like, “well, no, why don't we say 9:30, and then make it your beeswax to be here by 9:30? I mean, we'll all be in our late 20s by then. I just don't see any reason why we can't be places on time,” and then Gary says, “okay, then, it's settled. 9:30 it is. All agreed?” and everyone agrees (“agreed!”) and then McKinley says “good, because I have something at 11:00,” to which Gary replies, “you just have like a trapper-keeper full of appointments, right?” and then McKinley finally retorts, “no, I just have something at 11:00, and I can't change it, because I already moved it twice.”
I love Wet Hot American Summer.
Anyway, the reason I bring all of this up is that, when I was a freshman in high school (in 1992), my gang of friends (who were all drama geeks like me) (and who were mostly juniors and seniors at the time) had this raucous slumber party (wherein I wasn’t actually allowed to do any slumbering—my dumb mom made me come home at midnight because my girlfriend at the time, Shirley, was also going to be partaking in the slumber activities and my dumb mom was afraid that Shirley might steal my virginity) (how funny is hindsight, right?) (I don’t consider my mom dumb anymore, I’m just calling her dumb because back then I thought she was so super dumb for not letting me spend the night—I mean, fuck!—and I was mad at her for weeks) (I suppose you could argue that she truly was dumb for thinking that Shirley was ever going to steal my virginity because Shirley was so never, like, ever going to take my virginity) (I mean, I named her boobs Jodie and Michelle!) (if you were dating some dude and he named your boobs Jodie and Michelle—would you have sex with him?) (actually, now that I think about it, maybe my utter ineptitude in The Ways of Women was a turn-on for Shirley, maybe she looked at me as a project, maybe she liked that I had no idea what I was doing, maybe she thought she could turn me into a hunk of hetero burning love?) (maybe my mom wasn’t dumb, maybe she was right to be worried, maybe Shirley was going to have sex with me at that slumber party!) (hmmm) (this calls for a poll).
Let’s do a little role-playing, shall we? Let’s pretend that you’re a sixteen-year-old girl and you’re dating the fifteen-year-old version of me, Erik, who’s kinda like Sam Weir from Freaks and Geeks except instead of geeking out about things like Star Trek and chemistry, I geek out about things like Batman and Christopher Durang. (Are you with me so far? You’ve got your role down?) Okay…so…now imagine that we’re making out in your bedroom and you’ve gotten all PG-13 on me and shown me your boobs…and instead of progressing to the next base, I name your boobs Jodie (as in Foster) and Michelle (as in Pfeiffer)...now: