snapshots of an idle mind

September 13, 2007

hello miss goodall

.

it’s interesting what happens to me when i end up anywhere near the club scene. interesting because i never do quite what is expected of the usual person when they show up at a club.

the other day my friend oasis called me up and said “sass you have to come with me, i have an invitation to a film festival party!” [toronto international film festival, much partying, many celebrities, much traffic ridiculousness and irritation to the residents of the downtown core, much media hype etc] so i think fast and sigh with relief and say that i can’t go because i’m meeting my lawyer friend to make a waiver for my studio.

this is even true.

“oh” says she, “that’s fine since nothing ever happens until midnight anyway”

“crap” think i, “now how do i get out of it? dammit not working until eleven the next morning!!” and so i say okay since i’m forever NOT doing stuff with her.

so i go and i hang with the lawyer friend and then head home (though i would SO rather hang with her) and i whip out my most gorgeous dress and toss on my face. yeah this literally takes all of ten minutes, i just can’t be bothered spending an hour getting ready to do ANYTHING except maybe be the maid of honour at lividviv’s wedding and even then i mostly stood around and rearranged my dress.

it helps that i’m blessed with hair that looks good when it gets out of bed.

so, there i am all dolled up on command and she and another lady friend of hers pick me up and off we head. and you know? i should have known better, i should have but i didn’t.

so as we pull up to this place (i’m already yawning of course) she says ‘i don’t know if we can get in’ and i’m all uh don’t you have an invitation? and she’s all ‘no, i have a pass… but i don’t know if it will work’ and i just sort of sigh and gird my loins.

i mean i do not club. i club for something hilariously fun like bridesmaidmania [actual photo of ME but i failed to really be tacky enough] and i’m perfectly willing to go to some hoi polloi shindig and press the flesh (something i am in fact ridiculously good at but in no way crave) but i really don’t go clubbing like ever.

hence the loin girding.

so off we go and they let us in and of course it’s because there’s no one there and then they decide to go find the party.

go find the party. on a wednesday night.

oh god.

so we end up at some place on brant street at what is reported to be ‘the tommy lee party’ and i find myself sitting on a riser watching a whole pile of people try to be cool enough to be invited into the vip section. i don’t really know why because it didn’t look very fun in there either but hey, i’m a snob…

so, as always happens, i totally forget to participate. in fact i end up sort of sitting back in my pretty dress and people watching (that and the music had absolutely no groove to it so who could dance?) i love the people watching, i could write papers on the ridiculous things that people will do to get attention in a club. (don’t even get me started on the people you smile at, they look at you like you’re trying to steal their souls.)

from the girl in the backless dress that i desperately wanted to feed to the girl with the great rhythm pretending to model on the catwalk to the men walking around being oh-so cool with their noses at least ten feet in the air to the men who made the women look uncoiffed to the shirtless guy with the guitar he was pretending to play to the girls i was with.

these girls who did nothing all night but look challengingly at everyone who came near them and yet refused to speak to anyone and then, immediately upon leaving each venue, complained bitterly about how much toronto sucked, how canadian men are ‘so lame’ and this city is soooo boring and they can’t wait to leave and and and to the point that i was blessedly relieved to be able to claim morning work and come home.

i mean really, if you don’t like it here? why are you still here?

i mean i can sort of see their point about dating in toronto, it’s definetely a crap shoot… but with that kind of attitude really, what do they expect? they look down on anyone who comes remotely near them and don’t speak to any of the men they actually find attractive.

how the hell does that work?

as for the rest of the crowd? it made me sort of sad. here are all these people who are so clearly trying to have fun and trying to be noticed… most especially the little gaggles of starving women dressed in their ‘sexiest’ (skankiest?) clothes who parade around and hope that someone famous or rich will discover them and rescue them from their lives.

i wish they would learn that the only person who can rescue them is themselves… knights in shining armour do not exist and even in the stories they pick the women with spines every time.

mostly i just wanted to drag them to a place that sold food and force feed them…

.

it’s really tragic to see someone driving a porsche or a ferrari who doesn’t understand what shifting gears is for.

i mean it like physically hurts to hear… [such a pretty car behind me today and such pathetic driving…]

.

speaking of ferraris, explain to me how driving that car has rendered my car more fun! that makes no sense but it’s true.

there i am doing racing corners on my favourite stretch of road and flying out of lights and just generally partying down in my little honda. i haven’t done that since before i replaced the ball joints!

oh yeah, baby drives like she’s young again!

.

yay i’m fully booked for the next three weeks!

my life really is coming up roses these days!

.

irony

not getting a ticket for doing 140 in a 70 in a ferrari

and getting a ticket EXACTLY a week later doing 60 in a 40 in your own car.

.

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6 Comments »

  1. Hey Sass! I’ve totally noticed that intense snobbery in Toronto as well. While I was in it, I didn’t really notice it. All I noticed was an overwhelming inferiority complex. And an eating disorder. And intense anxiety everytime we were heading out to a “cool” place. I didn’t notice it until I left and moved “up here”. I resented the absence of style and effort and thought it all much too “hick”… but then my self-esteem was able to take the bandaids off, and I didn’t have to spend an hour on myself before going to get groceries. When we go back to visit, I slip right back in it. We talk about moving back all the time… but man, you have to have some thick sense of self-worth to make it there without some pretty deep esteem issues. In my experience of course. I’m hoping that perspective and maturity might help me in the end. But man, when you’re surrounded with critical gazes all day long, it gets to you, non?

    (By the way, I’ve upped security on my blog due to the initial issue that got me to stop… drop me an email at SLG.sweetlilgal@gmail.com and I would love to add you to my reader’s list again!)

    Comment by sweet l'il gal — September 14, 2007 @ 6:11 am | Reply

  2. slg: yay you’re blogging again!

    *clears throat* yeah i suspect it’s why i never go clubbing here, well not quite never… i often MEAN to go to the turning point party at the gladstone because apparently the music is spectacular for actual dancing but i never do make it…

    i too suffered that same complex but after some pretty intense self work it’s clearing up nicely, heck just last year i even decided i was pretty! it’s amazing what happens when you take the power of that one for yourself instead of giving it to someone else (my traditional pattern, started quite young) and it’s even more amazing where else it takes you after that.

    my old roomie used to do that, spend a full hour getting ready to go to the grocery store. heck if we were going out (i was quite the clubber in my younger days) i would have a shower and stick my hair in a towel and read for TWO hours until she said she was ‘almost ready’ and then i would get dressed and put on some makeup and then? oh yeah, read for another hour.

    miss slg if you slip right back into that bullshit when you come here? stay up north… for the sake of your sanity stay away! i managed to find a way through but that’s a lot easier when you’re in my shoes because i was ACTUALLY fat and so now i understand the difference in my deep deep unconscious in a way i never did before. also i don’t go to ‘cool’ places (okay unless the food is good!) :) :)

    funnily enough i got so tired of the critical gazes i stopped seeing them. it doesn’t hurt that the last of the truly negative people in my life have burned out of it like meteors at night and now the people around me are nearly universally positive or at least not cripplingly negative. actually that helps more than you can ever imagine!

    next time you come let’s get a beer?

    Comment by sassinak — September 14, 2007 @ 8:24 am | Reply

  3. Eek sounds like a crappy party. Sad, eh? I always feel like such a loser cuz I’m not glamourous but at least I’m pretty happy. That makes up for it and more! Two! Days! Til Disney!!!

    Comment by lia — September 14, 2007 @ 12:20 pm | Reply

  4. Great reply, Sass. Insight, baby!

    I just love Toronto so much… There’s just something to being part of a pulsating whole. I like the insignificance it lends. I also like the anonymity. (funnily enough, in an anonymous setting, I still worry about appearances!). But you are right, sometimes mental health has to win. I hope to get where you’ve gotten. And I was fat too. Maybe that’s where it comes from. The feeling that others are looking at you with a critical gaze takes forever to fade away.

    But surrounding yourself in positive people… I think you’ve got it.

    And…if I’m ever in Toronto longer than my drop ins to see Ryan Adams, I will have to let you know! Beer = delicious. Good company = delicious-er.

    Comment by sweet l'il gal — September 14, 2007 @ 3:23 pm | Reply

  5. For some reason, I read Lia’s Two! Days! To Disney! to the beat of the Beastie Boys’ No Sleep Til Brooklyn. It amuses me still, but then again, I’m easily amused.

    Sorry to hear your party was ass, especially after I confidently assured you that you would have a wicked time. It’s weird, I don’t go clubbing for the precise reasons you outline in your post– the shallowness, the deliberate boredom of self-conscious social climbers, my boredom at observing this absurd social ritual, and the outrageous price of girlie martinis.

    But I have gone to some very exclusive, VIP-only parties in Toronto and have never failed to have an excellent time. Perhaps it was because the intoxicants were free and I was the guest of one of the VIPs, or maybe it was the simple fact that the party was so exclusive that everyone just relaxed and had a good time. I showed up in jeans and a thrift-shop batik shirt and got props from a Trudeau and an astronaut. I’ve also gotten picked up by a rocket scientist, a provincial policitian and a guy who clones domestic animals at these parties. And trust me, I was eons away from being the best looking, best dressed, or most interesting person there.

    I wonder if the snobbery comes from the wannabes who equate ‘cool’ and ‘VIP’ with ‘being an asshole’. Ah, the retardation of youth.

    Comment by princessvalium — September 14, 2007 @ 4:40 pm | Reply

  6. lia: yeah it wasn’t really a party, just a venue parties are at … or something. i don’t know, the whole thing is just far too much work. dude have SO MUCH FUN!
    .

    slg: you know the weird bit for me is that it used to be hella fun to party in toronto. i know this because i did it a lot in my younger days and i just do not remember this weird snobby bullshit like i see now…

    i love toronto as well which is why i get quite cranky when people rant about how awful it is here… i mean really, if you hate it? LEAVE! *clears throat* anyway yeah i do like the huge city thing, it’s one of my favourite things about nyc. as for appearances i’m not sure we can help worrying about them to a certain extent really ever, i mean if we didn’t who would bathe? and lord knows that a human who doesn’t bathe is a horror!

    i don’t know, i remember the critical gazes but maybe because i knew i was broken they didn’t sink in as well? or maybe it’s just that after all the kids at school hate you it takes a LOT to get your goat after that. i mean i’m still really sensitive i’m just a lot quicker to say ‘you! out of my life for being an asshole!’

    yeah, positive people, that’s the key.

    yay beer and excellent company!!
    .

    PV: well that’s what lia meant you to read it as it turns out… so amuse on.

    dude it wasn’t really a party, it was a search for a party instead. that said, i think you’ve got it with the exclusivity thing. everyone there knows that they’re the shit in their field so they don’t have anything to prove. i love gatherings of nerds for the same reason, they actually talk about actual SUBJECTS instead of inanities.

    that said, you can’t call it youth because i know 20 year olds who don’t club and 40 year olds that do… it’s that weird trying too hard to be cool thingy that really is ageless but is oh so sad.

    that said, perhaps it’s the retardation of immaturity rather than youth?

    (most vip types i’ve met were awesome so yeah, my experience matches yours)

    Comment by sassinak — September 15, 2007 @ 7:17 pm | Reply


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