I believe it all started in Hoboken, where a lot of things start. You know, Sinatra, baseball... that's a lot of things right there.
Fresh off the end of a five year, quite serious relationship, my best friend Kerry and I sought to redeem me through bar-hopping in the yuppified meat-market known as Washington Avenue. And when bar-hopping, besides your name, the next question is always, "So what do you do?" And let me tell you, screaming over the techno, booty music etc is hard enough. It's even harder when you have to scream, "I'm a pee-aych-dee candidate in neuroscience!" You might as well just gargle at people.
In order to solve this problem, I decided, this fateful night in Hoboken, to create an alternate identity. Feminists, do not be taken aback. This isn't about "dumbing down," but simply about finding something easier to scream, something that's easier to relate to. Here, I came up with the idea that I'd be a dental hygenist. What's there not to love about dental hygenists? I mean, they're edgy in the sense that they deal with you strapped down in a chair, but coupled with the cuteness that is "Thank god, you're not the person who is going to hurt me by drilling my mouth apart."
And I was right. The response to "dental hygenist" was well-received. So much so, that I've gotten the chance to inspect many a man's molars. They show me their fillings. Seriously. It's cute.
Passing this idea on to other friends, we spent a night or two in New Orleans under the guise of not-a-grad-student once more. "Feng shui expert," and "Full-time notary public" to name a few.
It sort of blossomed out of control when other cohorts started creating elaborate fun stories like "I'm a chef who designs space food for NASA! And I was raised by adopted Eskimo parents in Alaska!"
But blossom it did. Do I feel deceitful? A bit, but being someone else, even for a little bit, can be fun.
So coming to New York, how would I describe myself? There's almost too many hats to mention in a single sentence. So I usually just go for "I work for a magazine." And if asked further, I tell the truth, because the facial expressions in response are priceless.
"Science?!? Whoa..." or "Ugh, I hated that in school."
When did we become afraid of science, people? It's dirt, it's the moon and stars, it's blood and guts. Who can't relate to those?
Fresh off the end of a five year, quite serious relationship, my best friend Kerry and I sought to redeem me through bar-hopping in the yuppified meat-market known as Washington Avenue. And when bar-hopping, besides your name, the next question is always, "So what do you do?" And let me tell you, screaming over the techno, booty music etc is hard enough. It's even harder when you have to scream, "I'm a pee-aych-dee candidate in neuroscience!" You might as well just gargle at people.
In order to solve this problem, I decided, this fateful night in Hoboken, to create an alternate identity. Feminists, do not be taken aback. This isn't about "dumbing down," but simply about finding something easier to scream, something that's easier to relate to. Here, I came up with the idea that I'd be a dental hygenist. What's there not to love about dental hygenists? I mean, they're edgy in the sense that they deal with you strapped down in a chair, but coupled with the cuteness that is "Thank god, you're not the person who is going to hurt me by drilling my mouth apart."
And I was right. The response to "dental hygenist" was well-received. So much so, that I've gotten the chance to inspect many a man's molars. They show me their fillings. Seriously. It's cute.
Passing this idea on to other friends, we spent a night or two in New Orleans under the guise of not-a-grad-student once more. "Feng shui expert," and "Full-time notary public" to name a few.
It sort of blossomed out of control when other cohorts started creating elaborate fun stories like "I'm a chef who designs space food for NASA! And I was raised by adopted Eskimo parents in Alaska!"
But blossom it did. Do I feel deceitful? A bit, but being someone else, even for a little bit, can be fun.
So coming to New York, how would I describe myself? There's almost too many hats to mention in a single sentence. So I usually just go for "I work for a magazine." And if asked further, I tell the truth, because the facial expressions in response are priceless.
"Science?!? Whoa..." or "Ugh, I hated that in school."
When did we become afraid of science, people? It's dirt, it's the moon and stars, it's blood and guts. Who can't relate to those?
posted by Nicole at Wednesday, July 28, 2004
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