Wednesday, March 14, 2012

I never got into drugs because this is how my mind operates sober.

I was watching the History Channel the other day because when Discovery started doing all those gold rush, hillbilly-exploiting reality shows, I turned up my nose at their programming (with the exception of Shark Week, which is a TAB-family high holiday and is celebrated every year with appropriate sharkgod religious fanfare) and there was this show on about the Pacific Northwest and how it used to be a capitol of shanghai-ing people (kidnapping them and selling them to boats bound for Shanghai) and I thought that was really, really tragic. 
"Can you imagine how horrible it would be to wake up and not know where you are and then have to go be a slave on top of it?"  I asked Merrick, because no one else was in my apartment at the time and I talk to my pets like a crazy person.  Merrick didn't say anything (so obvs I'm not THAT crazy) but he did swim around at the front of his tank because he likes it when the TV is on and I gave him some fish-kibbles.

Now, I have actually woken up and not known where I was on a few occasions, but that was mostly in college and the worst place I remember waking up in was a gutter (true story) and even waking up in unsavory places or with various sprained or broken bones (also true, and on separate occasions), it's usually a hilarious, Ke$ha-like experience covered in glitter and somehow a mysterious Santa hat in July and what you hope is your own vomit.  You march home in last night's clothes (psh, Runway Walk of Shame, mofos), order something hangover-curing and fried, and pass out on the couch, no worse for the wear.

But the thought of waking up hungover and then having someone tell you that:  "Oh hey, you're a slave now, push around this wheelbarrow full of rocks," (because in my imagination that's what slaves do?  I don't know.) and just having to deal with it would not sit well with me.  So overall, I'm really glad I don't live in old-timey times when people in the Pacific Northwest had to worry about that every time they left their huts for pizza, or whatever people in history did when they left their huts.

Although, if I did wake up and forgot whether I was in LA or in Seattle, I figure I could just find someone on the street and be like, "Do you like Boba?" and if they were like, "Fett?  Oh yeah, Star Wars for the win!" I would know I was in Seattle.  If they were like, "Boba?  Ugh, bubble tea was so three years ago!"  I would know I was in LA, and then I'd have to find some old-timey kidnapper and tell him to drop me off in Seattle on his way to Shanghai.

The moral of this story is "don't take my effing idea because I'm actually gonna write that into a bad sci-fi episode."


  1. Already stolen. Sorry, I couldn't resist. "Sierra: Walks of Shame from Naboo to Shanghai" will be available on in two weeks.

    1. It is AMAZING how much I would want to read that book, even though I've lived those walks and they're not actually moments of fun or pride.

    2. It's amazing how much perspective changes things from fun to "oops." I think that's actually on my family crest...