Friday, June 11, 2010

Like Mother, Like Daughter


Our fate is sealed. One time we happened upon our mothers choreographing a dance in a secluded hallway. They rule their world...and ours, and they won't ever let you forget it. Apart, they are each a force with which to be reckoned, but together, they are truly unstoppable. At this point in our young adult lives we have come to terms with, and cannot deny the fact that we are indeed Kristine Soffa and Abby Schor. It's a slow but inevitable progression that leaves us cringing at times and grateful at others. Gotta love 'em.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Give Me a Tropical Contact High

We need to escape. Palm trees are necessary. Upon returning from some time off, receiving a compliment in regards to the browning of our skin is really quite the thrill. No need to be modest, we all know a good tan when we see it. We can all agree that everyone looks better with a healthy glow. This is precisely why we need an island.

A quaint little island, but our little island just the same. Our sun-kissed skin will have the opportunity to bask in the rays for fifteen hours a day. After retiring to our ocean view cottages, we will use the outdoor showers. We then will apply copious amounts of after-sun lotion, while sipping a crisp rose. We will also lounge in our robes and comb our hair. When we have had enough of that, we will dress for supper. We will enjoy our lobster, the obvious choice at the charming little place on the corner, accompanied by the "rhythm of a steel drum band." We will be welcomed home by a nice little bed time treat. We will then wake up, and do it all again.

This is our Kokomo. Everyone has her version of Kokomo...ours just happens to be the same. We live in a society in which the majority of our American lives is spent working. Who we are
is based on what we do. Why is it that our means for acquiring wealth becomes our defining characteristic? This imposition makes one long to get away. And this is how we know that all members of our culture have a Kokomo.

We were two-years-old in July of 1988. This was our introduction to The Beach Boys, and perhaps to Tan Culture itself. Despite our immaturity, we already knew: Kokomo is where we want to go. Kokomo represents the naivete of a culture embarking on a new decade of prosperity and Tom Cruise. The Cocktail soundtrack, which both of our families happened to own, was jam-packed with upbeat, idealistic tracks. Not only did the album ignite Bobby McFerrin fever, but Tutti Fruitti was featured as well. However, the stand out hit was The Beach Boy's ode to the perfect island. Although Kokomo only held the #1 spot on the U.S. Billboard charts for one week (it was prematurely replaced by Escape Club's obscure hit, Wild Wild West), it remains a world renowned phenomenon.

Unfortunately, our present state prevents us from enjoying our said Kokomo just yet. This is where summer comes in. It will only last until September, so embrace this special Kokomo while you can. In the summer months, Kokomo is everywhere. Don't let us down.

The Beach Boys - Kokomo .mp3
Found at bee mp3 search engine

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

18 with an attitude, 19, kinda snotty acting real rude




Picture it, 2005. As the first signs of spring emerge on the Skidmore College campus, the student population has come out of hibernation. It's a Skidmore we never knew existed; people are actually outdoors, interacting. We notice specimens we have never seen before, especially junior and senior boys. As freshmen girls, scantily clad in our in our preemptive summer digs, we are kids in a candy store. We've already written off any potential freshman or sophomore prospects (with the exception of a bangin' sophomore, who we fondly refer to as Conversion Van), and the newfound upperclassmen serve to fulfill our fantasies of Jordan Catalano. With an herbal refreshment, a freshly burned mix for cruisin' downtown Saratoga Springs, and sunglasses, we truly believe that we are the coolest people on campus. Just as the freshmen girls before us and the freshmen girls after us, we make the mistake that the school is ours.

A Friday in the Life:
10:30 am - Julia shuffles into Emily's dingle (a double room with only one occupant) to waken her friend in order to recap the previous night's antics.
10:33 am - Emily prepares a remedy for our hangovers.
10:37 am - Julia fills up her Nalgene.
10:45 am - We are in Black Beauty (Julia's dearly departed Volkswagon), listening loudly to Kanye West "We don't Care."
10:54 am - Finally at Uncommon Grounds, our very own Central Perk. We giggle at the prospect of having our favorite employee take our order. Julia orders an iced soy latte and an everything bagel toasted with Atlantic smoked salmon, capers, and lemon; Emily gets a cinnamon raison bagel toasted with a shmear of cream cheese and an iced coffee. We do not dare remove our sunglasses when ordering, as eye contact with anyone is definitely something in which we are not interested.
11:07 am - Julia complains that the smell of burnt bagels in Uncommon Grounds is penetrating her clothing and seeping into her hair, and insists that we sit outside. Emily doesn't mind because we can tan. And as Uncommon tends to be a watering hole for all Skidmore students, it is perfect for people watching.
11:09 am - Spotted: Education Jake entering Uncommon. A boy in our shared education class. He subsequently drops out of Skidmore two weeks later...however, we never stop referencing him. Emily wants to go to Walmart.
11:46 am - We leave the comfort of Black Beauty for the comfort of Walmart. Emily decides we need to buy more board games.
11:51 am - Julia misplaces her car keys.
11:53 am - Julia finds her car keys.
11:56 am - After discovering the easily accessible guns in the sporting goods section, and having a sociological breakdown, we run for our lives.
12:12 pm - We announce our presence on campus through the obnoxiously loud music thundering from Black Beauty.
12:18 pm - Although we do not have class and do not live on campus, we still believe it necessary to be there. We find a central location in which we can lounge, gigggle, and scope out the hotties.
12:51 pm - Spotted: Mick Nencia. Despite the fact that he is two years our senior, he is mercilessly subjected to our brazen senses of humor. He is notorious for hitting on unsuspecting freshmen girls, which we find ruthlessly hysterical. For some reason he never received a nick name. Five years from now he will still be a source of entertainment, and a possible victim of prank phone calls.
1:10 pm - After spying and heckling numerous characters and crushes, we decide we're exhausted.
1:21 pm - Nap time. We need some r & r, so we recline in Emily's bed to watch Doogie Howser, M.D. We remain on 4th floor of Moore Hall for the rest of the evening, considering that it is not our policy to go out on Friday nights.

What a day.







Sunday, May 23, 2010

Celebrate!




It has been one year since our extended Buzios, Brazil.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Yes

This song is the best...and not just because Johnny Castle and Baby like to listen to the record. The Ronettes are the cutest people ever.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

1998-The Year of M.A.C.



7th grade was fun because ignorance is bliss. We never really knew how ugly we truly were until years later, when in retrospect, we had the clarity that allowed us to acknowledge the intensity of our awkwardness. We were, however, aware of 7th grade boys, and knew that we were not what they wanted. 7th grade boys like the 7th grade girls who look approximately two years older than the rest of their female counterparts. These girls, the "developed" girls, were not necessarily the nicest--the 7th grade hierarchy made them Queens, while we were merely court jesters. Even if you hung out with these girls and were considered "cool," once the boys were in sight, the cruelty of 7th grade set in. Resembling the little boy from "3rd Rock from the Sun" (yes, Joseph Gordon Levitt is, like, so totally hot NOW...) is not an easy feat when you're 13. Not to mention, looking like a chubby version of your little brother doesn't score you any points when you are mistaken for him at the middle school dance. Although we were out of touch with our appearance, at the same time we were consumed by it. Being 13 was difficult. Enter M.A.C. cosmetics.
We believed that by applying frosted white eye shadow, matching pink lipstick, and copious amounts of sparkles, we could deceive the population of 13-year-old boys into thinking we were Jenny McCarthy. We used M.A.C as a device to distract from our awkward, unappealing, 13-year-old selves...or so we thought. In reality, frosting ourselves only enabled us to live out our feudal sentence as entertainment for the popular masses. M.A.C. did not stop Lauren and Blair from spreading a rumor that Emily's mom shaved her legs for her. Nor did it stop Holly from refusing to share her sour lemon War Heads with "dork" Julia. Despite the fact that M.A.C. was not our Fairy Godmother, our tubes of lipglass served as a much needed security blanket for the harsh world that is 7th grade.

M.A.C., this 7th grade song is for you.