That’s the pits
May 5th, 2004
I find it really annoying that the spellchecker on this thing “doesn’t recognize” the word “blog.” I’m guessing this is because blogger.com and livejournal.com are competitors. But you don’t have to pretend you don’t recognize the term. That’s just false.
My grad school friends (GSF) take my obsession with Ellen Degeneres as yet another indication that I am gay. Other indications have included my purple bedspread, my height (huh?) and my extensive experience in high school athletics. They are totally set on this theory. This is becasue they are miserable gay people who need everyone else to be gay with them. (I must say though, being the straight one does have its advantages. Look for “Queer Eye for the Amazon Girl,” coming soon to Diminishing Returns.)
It’s true: I am obsessed with Ellen. I love her. I simultaneously am totally happy for her and completely jealous. I want to have her life, but somehow be me instead. I’m guessing that wouldn’t work. Ellen just stuffed a Mexican donkey figurine’s face into tortilla chips on her show. See? That is funny. I love how she never sold out and relied on idiotic sexual humor to be funny. After initially flipping out after she came out, the masses actually like her now. They must have gotten the memo that queer is in. Awesome. Anyway, I love it. Go Ellen.
Also, notice that Ellen is not pitting out in the above photo. This is probably the main difference between Ellen and me. I’ve always wondered if celebrities or other high-powered individuals are using this elaborate contraption or secret deodorant that prevents any sweating whatsoever. I am convinced that these people use, like, 20 layers of nude-colored paint to keep the moisture locked, or wrap ace bandages or sports tape around the underarm. (There I go again with the high school athletics.) I would try either method, seriously.
Pit stains are so horrible. I know it shouldn’t matter, but they are kind of universally regarded as a human weakness. You see a guy on the street with gaping wet marks. Oh GROSS, you just bumped into him, shoulder to shoulder! Nasty!
The silent interaction goes something like this.
You: Oh, sorry. (pause) Ewwwh. I’m actually starting to pit out myself. Good thing I’m wearing black.
Pit stains: (gives dirty look) What are you looking at? I know I have pit stains. Don’t you think that if I had a sweater I’d cover them up? Ha. You look like you could be pitting out there yourself.
You: WHY is he looking at me like that? OMG, can he tell just by looking at my face? Am I giving it away?
Pit stains: This sucks. Maybe I should try Mitchum.
You: Mitchum doesn’t work. I would know.
OH MY GOD. I just typed “pitting out” in Google image search and the very first picture to come up was one from MY college website. That is so pathetic. I seem to have labeled the photo “pitting_out,” as if that was a reasonable way to distinguish that one from any of the other pictures taken that year.
Okay, this sucks. Not even “pit stain” is warranting any quality photos. I would have thought at least someone would have taken a closeup of a random person’s ridiculous pit stain at some point. I will try to do it myself at some point. I could totally do a closeup from the top-secret “pit stain gallery” from senior year, but I think Sarah Kate would kill me.
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