FRIEDMAN: Whip my Hair

Let me preface with the following: This article has nothing to do with whipping my hair back and forth. I’m really sorry if any of you are disappointed.  I just really wanted to use the song as an article title before my column finished. So here it is. Now here’s my article. 

Ladies and Gentleman, boys and girls, betches and bros . . . it’s about that time. That’s right, end of the semester time. What does that mean for me? Well loyal readers, it means it’s time I bid you farewell. At least for now. I may often be wrong, but I am always write-ing. Hmm. That didn’t go over as well as I had hoped.

But I digress. Ah yes, the final article. The culmination of everything Aretha Frankly stands for. The happy ending to this fantastic non-oral session. I wonder what’s going to come out of this one . . .

Okay, don’t get gross guys. This isn’t an article about sex. At least not entirely. This is an article about something valuable. Something meaningful. Something tasteful. Okay, that last one was a lie—but it is about something meaningful.

Now, I know what you’re all asking yourselves. Firstly, you’re saying, damn it, Sam! Why aren’t you getting to your point already?! Well readers, I’m getting there. But for things to get really exciting, this article needs some foreplay. Secondly, you’re wondering, what topic could possibly be meaningful to all readers?

Ah, I see. Skeptics. Not a good look guys, it creates wrinkles. Y’all know better than to doubt me, I’ve got it all figured out. So take a deep breath and relax. Recline on a La-Z-Boy. Grab some Sun Chips. Turn on “How I Met Your Mother.” Actually don’t do that, because then you won’t be paying attention to the topic of this article:

 

The Meaning of Life.

I know, I know. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

That saying wasn’t applicable but I also wanted to use it before my column finished. Moving on. 

Where was I? Oh, right. Teaching you guys about important, meaningful stuff. So maybe this topic is a challenge. But so is giving birth and that hasn’t scared me off.

Woah guys, WOAH. You thought I meant, I gave birth? Gross. I meant I was given-birth-to. You know, by my mom. But I had to endure that shizz just as well as she did, and let me tell you, it was scary. I’m sitting in my comfy little womb, minding my own bidness, when suddenly the walls of my home start caving in. There’s an inexplicable force pushing me outside and I hear a lot of people speaking in an unknown tongue (I later learned this was English). Now, I totally could have given up. I totally could have refused to shoot out of my mother’s cooter and deny entering civilization. But did I? Oh no I didn’!! (Insert finger snaps here).

I forged my way out of the darkness, and I pushed my way into a world full of fussy doctors and prodding nurses. It took gumption. It took pizazz. And most of all—it took a lot of confidence entering into a room full of strangers while butt-ass-naked. But I did it. And you know what? You all did too.

So I’m thinking we can handle this topic, guys. Are you with me? Okay, awesome.

So we’re going to ease into things. We’re going to start with all the weirdisms of society I’ve witnessed in my 21+ years, and figure out why we are the way we are.

 

Weirdism #1: Girls always go to the bathroom together.

Why? Because we have a terrible sense of direction. Why do you think we get lost every time we’re trying to meet you somewhere? Just be thankful we move in packs, otherwise—we’d be f*$%’ed.

 

Weirdism #2: Parents who keep their children on leashes. Literally leashes. 

Why? Because they hate their kids. Next.

 

Weirdism #3: Thongs are sexy.

Sure they’re dental floss between the cheeks, but who doesn’t love going to the dentist? Case in point.

 

Weirdism #4: Hangovers suck, but that doesn’t stop us from drinking next weekend.

My first theory is that we all suffer short-term memory loss.

My second theory is that we’re stupid.

 

Weirdism #5: We shouldn’t look at women while they’re breast-feeding. But we do.

It’s a sick, sick world my friends.

 

Weirdism #6: One of the most embarrassing things ever is falling in public.

Because you just FELL IN PUBLIC, obviously. You should be ashamed. Better yet, you should be mortified. Tomorrow, don’t even bother leaving the house. Or, tie your shoes next time, jackass. <3 <3

 

Weirdism #7: We stalk photos of the people on Facebook we hardly know.

Sorry guys, I’m in the middle of checking out pics of this dude in my English class. I can’t believe he was at that party! Snap, he has a good body in that beach photo. He has two sisters? Oh. . .right, weirdism explanation. Um, I’ll get back to you.

 

Weirdism #8: We don’t masturbate.

That isn’t a weirdism. That is a lie. Next.

 

Weirdism #9: We think we’re invisible when driving.

I know you’ve picked your nose at a red light and that you’ve rocked out to Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi” way too enthusiastically while cruising. I. Know. It.

It’s okay though… I’ve done it too. And ya know what? This weirdism is here to stay.  Cause the next time “I Like Big Butts” comes onto the radio, you bet your bottom I’m gonna shake it like a Polaroid in the front seat.

 

Weirdism #10: We deny we’re the one that just farted.

Huh? Me? Hell no! That was totally you. Who ever smelt it dealt it dude…

 

Weirdism #11: We love Kim Kardashian’s butt.

Actually, this isn’t so weird. I’d be worried if you didn’t love it.

 

Weirdism #12: We love watching the E! Television show, “The Kardashians.”

Now that is wrong. Check yo-self fool.

 

Weirdism # lucky 13: Tighty-whiteys exist. Awkward.

Listen guys, I’m sure you have a super nice package. But if you elect to wrap up your junk in tighty-whities, either you’re 5, or you’re single.

I’d say that about sums up mankind. Wouldn’t you agree? It’s pretty clear those who adhere to the weirdisms above are nothing short of a super freak—yow!

But wait a minute. This only explains the meaning of mankind. . .what about the meaning of LIFE I promised you?

Well readers, that’s for another article.

. . . Speaking of which—want to know where I’ll be writing next semester? Shoot me an email and I’ll hit you with the deetz. Aretha Frankly out.

 

Samantha Friedman is a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at samtf@bu.edu.