|Welcome to my lovely home.|
The Asphalt Crew was so named due to the area of my high school, where certain kids hung out, and this area happened to be in front of the library, covered in...you guessed it, asphalt. My high school cost something ridiculous like three million dollars to build (in 1994, that was a lot of money, kids) and we had a million places to chill and enjoy breaks. These guys wanted the coldest, most sunless area available. They also coveted the giant asphalt step, which formed a semi-circle around their camp.
They had no real "leader" but if I am going to say they were guided by a young gentleman named "Dave" who fancied doing random accents during class, and was known to wear a cape. I think his dad was the Mayor. I don't know, I just know his dad looked MORTIFIED every time he had to see Dave in our theater productions, and his exit always seemed rather...quick.
Dave was a real chick magnet for the Asphalt Ladies, which seemed to be in a smaller population than the guys. Go figure. I remember one of his conquests was a very unique Jewish girl, who was wrought with guilt over her parents being displeased with dating outside her religion. The only reason I know this was I was subject to her incessant wailing during fifth period English. I guess Dave had the nerve to ask if her family ever put up a Christmas tree, "just for the season." Yeah, you're toast Dave. Or should I say matzoh?
Between Dramatic Dave, Matzoh Madness and a whole other cast of characters (literally), we who enjoyed the comforts of the quad were constantly entertained. There was the time "Tad" decided to twist his body into the shape of a pretzel, and walk around during the middle of a rally held in the amphitheater. The rally was to keep us drug-free. I'm pretty sure he did about ten whippets before the assembly. He was carted off like a war protester, surrounded by applause.
I had a lot more interaction with these folks than most. Being borderline "Asphalt" myself, (my humor and sarcasm barely allowed my presence amongst the semi-popular crowd) I was sneaking off to the library a lot, to check out fiction. They were always in my theater or drama workshops, annoying our teacher. I could not make up the fact that one time I heard it announced by "Angela", a very clingy and over-sharing student, "My mom gets all the blackheads out of my ears using these," a la, Ralph Wigam. She was holding a wad of bobby pins we needed for wigs. I almost threw up.
They were also in pretty much EVERY FUCKING PLAY, even if they had NO PART. I would get irritated that when they didn't get cast, they wanted to be backstage, you know, "just to help out." They wore all black on these nights, even though none of them were on sets, backstage or lighting. It was almost like they expected one of us to go down, and if they were wearing just the correctly angled style of beret and black turtleneck, we would run to them like our savior.
I don't need to tell you that never happened.
So, fast forward to now, where I basically am seeing this whole Asphalt Crew as a metaphor for my own life. I recently decided to re-design my blog, and nothing has left me feeling more like a stranger in a strange land. Originally I asked a "big-blogger" to do it, because I liked her work. I can't get the "big blogger" to look at my blog, or even follow me on IG. So how are they going to glean any kind of idea what the blog is about, let alone what I represent. I mean, I know I don't represent much more than being a crass bitch but...I know I wont blow half my paycheck on someone who only emails me to ask about paying, but has no interest in getting to know me. Like a loser, I even asked them to follow me on IG. I tried to friend request them. Nope, too busy getting free clothes and then complaining that you have too many.
Other "big bloggers" have blown me off countless times, even when I just leave a comment on their blog, or send them a friendly email to say I am a fan. I know these people are busy but it seems they can make time to respond and acknowledge other "big bloggers." The best is when you buy something from them and they tell you they are "swamped" and it takes nine months. LOVE THAT. If someone was giving me free clothes, shoes, bags, used gerbil cages...shit I would be grateful for ANYTHING. I might be "swamped" putting it all away, but puh-lease.
I don't get it. Maybe it's karma for all the hours spent staring at "Angela" picking her nose.
Do I need to blog about nail art? Is it important for you to see the inside of my make-up bag? Should I do an outfit post everyday? Do you want me to review some concealer I got for free, but that you will never be able to afford? Do you want me to show you how to make a peanut butter muffin with a mini-pumpkin pie inside? Do you want to learn to make a felted cover for your iPad? If you do, I can recommend a blog for you, TRUST ME.
I am proud to be a part of The Asphalt Crew of the blog world. I don't want to be like anybody else. I have found a designer that actually cares about ME. Hell, we're even friends!
I am now going to do ten whippets and then twist myself into a pretzel shape and roll around Downtown. See ya there! I'll be the one putting my fist through all the chalkboard art.