Cornellians far and wide, I'm happy to inform that the lucky artist who gets to play a lullaby while you
The Pussycat Dolls!
(Scattered applause and general bewilderment)
While some may question the wisdom of bringing a cabaret act to this, the happiest day of the year in Ithaca, I contend that it rarely matters who plays at Slope Day. Unless (and this will never happen) you have Pearl Jam, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, or Tom Jones play the gig, no Cornellian will still be sober and cognizant enough to even register who is playing when the band goes up at 3 in the afternoon.
In my four years in Ithaca, I remember none of the bands from Slope Day. After a couple of hours on the Slope, both the sun and the spins would defeat me, and I would find a nice patch of grass, kick aside the empty red cups, and make a nice little nest for myself. I would then pass out until a nice policeman would nudge me with his boot to make sure I was still alive and then order me back to Collegetown.
And, in my opinion, that's a much better afternoon than pretending to be interested in Snoop.
The Pussycat Dolls, however, seem to have potential. Particularly if they get caught up in the spirit of the day and join us in drinking the day through. And then, of course, find a nice college boy who will help them "reconnect" and "stay grounded" and "serve as proof that they haven't gone completely Hollywood."
I have to admit, though, that I know little of the Pussycat Dolls other than the fact that they are generally well proportioned and run a nice little ring of blackjack tables at Caesar's Palace.
I never play there, however, based on one of my cardinal rules of gambling, one that's right up there with "Never tell a buddy who is clearly up, "wow, you have it going on there, huh?"
And that rule is:
Never play at a table with a pretty girl.
Seriously. I love pretty girls more than most, but they're bad news bears.
It's not that they don't know how to play.
No, the thing is, every time a pretty girl sits down at a table full of guys, everyone has to be the funny one, myself included. And everybody stops paying attention to the cards. And everybody starts paying attention to the girl. And everybody tells her how to play, what to do, and where to go afterwards, and she sits and giggles and pulls at her cleavage and even the dealer is hitting on her now, oh my god this game has slowed to a crawl and finally the dealer has dealt and look, she got an 18, not bad -- waitaminute did she just go "hmmm"??? Gahhhh.
So that's why I don't sit at the Pussycat Dolls tables in Vegas. I'll come hit on you later, Bounci, when you're not dealing my cards and are done with work and your fourth martini and feel ready to make a poor decision.
So, yeah. Anyone up for Slope Day this year?
1 comment:
first of all, the cups weren't the red solo cups--they were the clear cheap ones that you could make a nice little pillow out of.
second of all, there are musical acts during slope day? since when?
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