Last night we had our annual party for the department at the Graduate Chair's house. As always, it was fun. Lots of chi chi food, wine as far as the eye can see, and for the first time this year, pretentious beers supplied by the Pattersteins. (that's me and Kev).
It's kind of strange to hang out with people who usually you have a completely different relationship with. We hang out, us students, occasionally, but throw the profs in as well and it can get a little weird. But this year, the profs cleared out early. Probably because it rained and it was crowded in the house. We were all afraid of knocking art off the walls, I'm sure.
It was fun, this year, because we are all a big group and we can talk about things other than classes and art. Kev even found one of the girls' boyfriends and they talked about their bands, which have eerie similarities, and photo. I always feel kind of bad for him, because he doesn't feel all that comfortable with the people from school. I wouldn't feel all that comfortable walking in to a semi-established group, either. I am socially retarded, but at least I know these people already.
We talked until we got kicked out, about 11:30. The drive back to the great Northeast was scary, because I had to drive my handles like a sack of potatoes Taurus on Lincoln then Kelly drive. Think tight curves, small lanes and assholes screaming past at 55 miles per hour in a 25 zone. SCARY! On the way home, we stopped at McDonalds. I am not sophisticated, and these parties always confirm this for me.
At the Christmas party last year, I brought chicken fingers. Of course they went, and faster than the tofu containing pasta junk, and the bitter salads. I felt vindicated when the son of one of our professors remarked, "Oh, thank God, real food!" and scarfed down six fingers himself. Sophisticated, Lauren is not. But pleasing to the masses, and that's something.