I Was Burning Incense Since You Were In Diapers!

Can I just take a moment to bitch about a certain type of girl that I hate?

It's not what you think. We all know how I feel about the crusty Mulcahey's "blonde" chicks, and the orange leatherfaces unleashing hell in Plainview bagel shops, but that is more of a societal thing. Like, their existence and being considered "hot" is part of a larger-scale problem for which I blame Bunim-Murray Productions in many ways.

No, the type of girl that I hate is the bored hippie chick.

*GASP!*

Now now hold on, I know I am a hippie chick too in many ways, and I of course am awesome. But I'm talking about this certain hippie chick that has ALWAYS GIVEN ME GRIEF!!! Like, I got out of high school and realized that I most certainly did not want to hang out with "the cheerleader" or "the student body government person," which is what I "was" in high school.

I wanted to hang out at the Brick Cafeteria at Nassau, not the Cactus Café on the quad. I wanted musicians; I wanted love; I wanted hackey sacks and the idea that art can be found at any given point in time. I still do.

But the thing is that I kind of was a cheerleader. You can't yell and jump around and do cartwheels and splits for six years and not have that affect you. But I was never a bitch, and I really was nice to everyone and not even in a fake way. So I really was not expecting the chilly reception from my soon-to-be arch nemesis: The Girl On The Couch.

Every hippie/musician/et al. group has at least one. She wears baggy clothes, likely from the "Salllvo" and melds into the sofa unless there's a beanbag chair around, and probably knows how to play a little guitar, enough to cover for the fact that she is essentially a non-sexual groupie.

But see, I thought that was awesome! I'd rather have lots of variety in the people around me, always. Until I quickly realized that to this chick? I would always be the cheerleader. I wore "gross" makeup (only Chap-Stick isn't gross, that's the rule), and did my nails (that's for dumb girls), and brushed my hair once in a while (sellout) and didn't own a single newsboy cap. Oh yeah, and I had boobs. What the hell do you want me to do about that? So in other words, I may as well have been Lacey Chabert in "Mean Girls," as far as she was concerned.

Which pissed me off. But I accepted it as a rite of passage that would be temporary.

So I REALLY REALLY don't appreciate how sometimes I still get treated like that by the all-grown-up versions of The Girl On The Couch. Like for ONE thing, everyone really needs to stop listening to NPR if it means insisting on talking that inflection-is-for-losers-kind-of-way, I mean I'm SO SORRY to startle you from perpetual ennui, but let's LOOK ALIVE, PEOPLE!

I'm in my thirties. I'm so over The Girl On The Couch. And in case you're still unclear as to how that translates to The Now, I'm talking about that chick who somewhere along the line become completely misanthropic towards everyone but those whom she deems worthy of her oh-so-cool company. The chick who assumes I could never be worthy of said company, because I still try to enjoy my life, my body, my freedom from the ridiculousness that was my twenties. To this person, I will always be the bimbo cheerleader, and she will always be the droner on the couch who got to the fun boys first, and now I'm threatening her territory.

So yeah, that sucks, but I could deal with it nowadays. It did throw me a bit in 2004 when I found out one of my friends AND my boss were calling me Barbie behind my back. But whatever, their judgment, their loss. However, I still cannot abide how The Girl On The Couch still, to this day, assumes she is just so so much smarter than me. It just happened now, in case you were wondering what inspired this. I can't say too much, but there is a woman that I work with who obviously hasn't the slightest amount of respect for me, because I know she thinks I'm a dumb 22-year-old who thinks only of feathers, flowers, and fairy dust.

Fuck that noise. I could be much more help to her if she'd understand that I'm a HELL of a lot smarter than I seem. I've said for awhile, I don't blame people who think I'm dumb when they first meet me. But if they still think I'm stupid after they get to know me? They're the dumb ones.

Why do people judge each other in such set in stone ways, even after all these years? And can any of my hippie/musician friends fill me in as to what the fuck The Girl On The Couch's problem is? Because I've got a job to do, and don't have energy for this college bullshit.





©2008