Isn't that just sooooo cute? There's your pilgrim, and there's your Indian, and there on the table is a turkey (with the stuffing falling out toward the Indian) and some veggies, among other things. Isn't it cute? Did I mention that your pilgrim and Indian are both...turkeys?
CANNIBALS!!!!
I suppose, for the patriotism, or the thanksgivingism, or the somethingism, I ought to write a Thanksgiving post. But the problem is, my Thanksgiving isn't until tomorrow, when people will be trampling each other for the best buys. So, in a cynically-thanksgivingy way, here's my thankfullnesses:
Love ya all!
~Dresden
Before I begin, I would like to emphasize that I have very dark brown hair and Ta has very light brown hair. Neither of us are actual blondes. However, after Saturday and today, I think both of us should do a little “lemon juice and vinegar” work.
Hills and heels do not mix. Of course, my flat shoes were securely stored in the trunk of my car, and I didn’t particularly feel like hiking up that hill to retrieve them. So instead I made three trips up and down the other hill in heels and carrying my bag. I got smart before I made my fourth trip. I called to one of my friends and asked him to read postings for me. One point for smarts for me!!! The first time he didn’t answer. The second time, his debate partner had left to go check postings for his team, so I had to request that Zack follow his partner to check postings for me. It happened to be that my next debate round was in the exact room I was sitting in. I just had to move to the other table.
Me: Ta:
1 0
Much easier than hiking up and down the hill.
Soon, Ta and her partner arrived. Ta was wearing flat shoes and had her heels in her bag. One point for smarts for Ta. She’s gaining on me.
Me: Ta:
1 1
Thus we continued for our debate round, and Ta gained yet another point of smarts on me. Fortunately, my partner made up for my lack of points, and we managed to win the round. Two points for me! Once again, we were tied. Time to hike up the hill.
Me: Ta:
2 2
During the time following waiting for postings, a nice brunette, or not so nice, decided she wanted to swing dance. Since she couldn’t get anyone else to dance with her, she asked me. Negative one point for me. Ta’s in the lead again.
Me: Ta:
1 2
Then we found out that we were to go against each other again. Switch sides.
Ta’s still using her flats to walk down the other hill. Point for her.
Me: Ta:
1 3
During the round, Ta mentions that, since I said her criterion was too broad and she said ours was too narrow, we need to find a balance. I write “Social Benefits or Net Justice?” on a sticky note.
Ta’s phone goes off twice in the ensuing round. It vibrates enough for me to wonder who is calling me. Negative two points for her.
Me: Ta:
1 1
We go back up the hill. Ta stops to eat dinner, but my partner and I continue up the hill to dump our bags and for me to retrieve my shoes. One point for me.
Me: Ta:
2 1
On the return walk down the hill, my partner wants to know why I wear heels. He decides that I need to wear platforms for comfort’s sake. I counter that I have a hard time balancing on platforms. He suggests four foot stilts. I say two inches is more what I’m looking for. We wonder if stilts would be allowed under dress code.
Me: Ta:
0 1
That’s how the score stood at the end of Saturday. The only problem was, on Saturday, our last ballot was not copied. Four people, one ballot. I get the ballot because I can fax it to Ta.
Me: Ta:
1 1
Today, Ta and I can’t figure out how to work the fax machines.
“Push the green button!”
“Ooo!! It beeps and flashes when we push that button! Pretty!”
“I thought you didn’t have to put a one before a phone number any more.”
“Why isn’t the ballot coming out of the other side? Is that a paper jamb?!?!?!?”
“What’s a paper jam?”
“It’s kinda like a paper cut, except you put it on bread.”
We accidentally copy the blank side of the ballot.
Me: Ta:
0 0
Ta decides that I can figure out how to send it by myself.
Me: Ta:
0 1
After e-mailing back and forth for half the day, I finally send it…without calling to ask for the fax machine to be switched on.
Me: Ta:
0 1
I call, and successfully (!!) send the fax.
Me: Ta:
1 1
After all that, who cares about the score, anyways? We’re scheduling a bleaching session for our hair. Like, really bleaching. Like, White Blonde.
Lemme know what you think.
*Note: All truth in this story may or may not be real, and any representations of actual events have been exaggerated for the benefit of both blondes, and, I would presume, the fax machine.
Top 10 ways to know you're a debater:
10. You're doing something next Saturday (November 17).
9. You like Skittles.
8. You have a Gmail account.
7. The rest of your club has a gmail account, and you use Gmail to chat with each other.
6. Staying up all night researching before a Saturday, or Friday, is not uncommon.
5. You can't say enough in five minutes.
4. When you aren't spending time researching, you play with Photoshop or take pictures.
3. You fear the team from Zimbabwe.
2. When someone makes a "C" with their hand, you immediately think "30 seconds!"
1. Names like "Winther" "Trujillo" (:P) "Herche" or "Jorgensen" make you faint. Especially if you have to debate against them.
If none of the above apply to you, you are not a debater.
