And because I am not a heathen I will NOT be naked in the hot springs...

Think tanks. Yes. Think tanks. You know what I'm talking about, yeah? A group of really smart people who sit around a big expensive oak table and think. Usually, they think about whatever the name of their think tank organization is. Real examples include Center for Media and Democracy, Middle East Forum, and National Bureau of Economic Research. Sometimes they might have a sci-fi sounding name like the Project 2049 Institute or the Millennium Project. Whatever the name is, they sit around and just think. I think working in a think tank would be pretty awesome, actually. I mean, I'm a nerd and I think constantly. I just might not think so wisely sometimes. Or really most of the times. But still, I think. Descartes would probably love this now that I think about it. But let's get to the point shall we? After all, I do have a point and it is think tank syndrome. Think tank syndrome is when the group of brainiacs all think the same thing without having someone checking them on their bull shit thoughts. No one is there saying "wait a minute, that's outrageous" or "seriously, you think launching missiles at Cuba is REALLY a good idea?" or just simply "no, that's stupid."

Think tank syndrome.

Now. Recently, I've noticed this syndrome with my circle of friends. And I've taken it upon myself to be the one woman riot against it. Silently. I'm not actually doing anything. Or really saying anything. But still it's the thought that counts, right? 

Let me explain so that I kinda sorta maybe make sense rather than just aimlessly thought vomiting. My friends all now drink club soda. Or seltzer water. Or tonic water. Whatever. I don't even know the difference really. But they are all now obsessed with drinking fizzy carbonated water. We go to a bar, and as a group we order 6 beers and 5 club sodas. Not 6 club sodas. But 5. Because I'm not drinking the kool-aid on the club soda trend. That in itself, not so bad, I know. But now, each one's frig is always stocked with the green and white generic market brand club soda cans. Still not bad? Okay, sure. One of my friends, Jessica, is thinking about having a club soda tasting birthday party. My other friend Ben started a club soda blog. And another made a club soda keg which he will bring on our camping trips now, apparently. I mean, I'm all about sharing hobbies and interests and to be passionate about stuff. But, club soda?!  REALLY? I mean, REALLY?

This may not seem like a big deal to you. And really, it probably shouldn't be a big deal to me. But it is. Like, everyone is morphing into one blob. Into one club soda drinking blob.

Like I said, think tank syndrome. 

Not convinced? My circle has officially adopted the word "deranged." What do I mean officially adopted? I mean my ex-BFF Cliff insisted that "we should all use the word deranged more often. It can be used for everything. It can used to describe a mood, a person, doing something. It's a good word," he said. This is was an actual topic of discussion. For reals. I guess it might be true that the word can be widely used but do we really need to announce the coming of deranged? Oh, I forgot to mention, in the conversation it was explained that the word "awkward" has been overused and "deranged" should now replace it. Fuck that. And no thanks. I'm a loyalist and I'm just going to continue on my merry fucking awkward way.

I do realize that my obsession with my friends' beverage and vocabulary preferences is deranged. BUT I DON'T CARE. 

Thanksgiving is coming up in a few days. And most of my circle is going camping in the freezing cold. I don't really want to go. I'd much rather stuff my face comfortably with access to running water, a heater, and my hair straightener. Yet I'm going. You know why? Because I don't want to be left out. Can you pass me some of that kool-aid now, please?

To Top it off I spent $200 on camping crap at REI yesterday. I could have bought pair of shoes and Citizens jeans with that money. Thanksgiving weekend could be stuffing my face, drinking lots of wine, having straight hair, seeing the new Disney flick on the big screen, and buying new shoes & jeans. Just not on Black Friday. Not my style. But nope. No Thanksgiving flick for me this year. No Icee. No popcorn. No Disney. No straight hair. No plumbing. Nope. I'm going camping. In the freezing cold. But hey, at least my friend Ryan will bring his club soda keg. 

"Ugly Dress, you are outrageous."  

Well, for reals, there's the hot springs! And I've never been to the hot springs. That is exciting. Except for the fact that everyone will be naked in the hot springs. Sans me. I will not be naked. I will wear my Vegas one-piece. Yes, my Vegas one-piece. I name my clothes. Examples include preppy brunch shirt, hippy skirt, baseball mary-jane shoes, and my Vegas one-piece. So, what is my Vegas one-piece exactly? It's a black tarzan cut one-piece swimsuit that has bronze studs on the left side and over the shoulder strap on the right. I got it specifically for my girl's dirty thirty Vegas trip last April. It's quite sexy, in my biased opinion. Who cares that no boys talked to me while I was at the pool. I was too busy adoring my one-piece. That or too busy trying to hold in my margarita generated pee so I don't have to fuss with my one-piece in the restroom. I mean, after all, I don't pee in the pool because people who pee in the pool are heathens. Obviously. And I am not a heathen. Obviously. And because I am not a heathen I will NOT be naked in the hot springs...