Ask Ceil – Party Monocles

Anti-Valentine's Day Party: Duct Tape Rose

I am wearing my ponytail on the left side of my head, which, in semaphore, signifies sassiness. I’m feeling a little sassy today. Also, all I’ve had to eat today was a danish and a Sam Adams, but I feel like I’m getting almost all of my nutrients because the SA was made with whole grains. Let’s go!

Dear Ceil,

After I went to Mardi Gras last week I couldn’t find my clothes. Or my hair. Or my house. How can I avoid a similar fate for St. Patrick’s Day?

Lost in LA

Dear Lost,

I’m not sure I can help with the clothes or the hair. You might try gluing both hair and clothing to your body before you leave the house. Elmer’s is a good liquid adhesive. (Also, gluing things with Elmer’s is a wonderful hobby for people with not a lot of natural talent. And, it makes a nice stew sauce.) You can also try duct tape. As in, perhaps you should wear duct tape as clothing and hair. With all the different patterns and colors available now, your costume options are not limited to “robot” or “sexy robot”. Duct tape is form-fitting as a clothing, and therefore allows plenty of freedom of movement, especially if you tape yourself up while slightly flexed. Shave first.

There are a lot of things you can do to prevent yourself from getting separated from your house for inconvenient days and weeks. For instance, you should always tell someone where you are going (like a relative, a close friend, or the NSA–just whisper into your shower head, or top right handle of your dresser).

You should also have your cell phone charged and handy so you if you get lost, you can call someone. If you’re worried about misplacing your phone, or having it stolen by aliens, zombies, angry girls scouts, or a pack of rabid marmots, you can also duct tape it to yourself. (Or use Elmer’s. Allow for increased drying time.) If you are duct-taping it to your duct-tape clothing, try not to leave an awkward bulge anywhere. Duct taping it to your arm may give you an odd “random-lone-muscle” effect when compared to the other arm. Duct taping it any place in the hip-area could result in the “misplaced-genitalia” effect.

However, the number one thing you can do to keep from suffering the effects of irresponsible alcohol blackout is to get your driver’s license tattooed on your thigh.

While getting a driver’s license tattooed on your thigh is both recommended by the Federal Highway Safety Commission and also the Tattoo Parlor and Camouflage Association of America, there are some reasons why you might not want to take this very sensible measure.

Please consider the following before getting your driver’s license tattooed to your thigh:

Expense. Only 1 out of 10 or 11 people forget who they are during the regular course of “exaggerated revelry”. Even the most airheaded and debaucherous inebriates figure out who they are by the next morning. (Or, at least 90% of them do.) And it’s not going to be cheap, because you’ll want a tattoo artist who can render your image and vital statistics accurately, and not make you look like a horrifying demon version of your shadow self.

Success. By tattooing your driver’s license on your thigh, you are all but assured to get your life back; which begs the question: “Are you sure you want your life back?”

If you’re actually going out with the specific intent of getting thoroughly, spectacularly, obnoxiously drunk, perhaps you’re at the point in your life where you might want to assess some things.

I personally have been guilty of having a third glass of wine when I’d forgotten that I’d only eaten a salad that day, and that’s when I start telling people how they’re my best, best friends, and even though we only met in the foyer of the restaurant, I feel like we have a connection, you know? YOU KNOW? I love you. Really. I’m not crying, I’m allergic to feelings, is all.

But if you are purposely going out to erase your memory of the events of the day–you may want to do some thinking first. And, if you conclude that your life is too horrible–that being locked in the basement for 23 hours each day, only to briefly be released to the tavern; or the shock treatments at home are really just too much, even if you did sign up for that study—then you know, maybe just skip the tattoo. Chances are, it’ll all be fine. Bring enough for the Greyhound. Get at least as far as Nevada. That’s all I’m saying. The desert has no memory. Supposedly. I wouldn’t know, myself.

Self-Control. Before you get a driver’s license tattooed on your thigh, you should think about the frequency with which you get pulled over by law enforcement. If a police officer asks you for a copy of your license, and you recently lost yours, you’ll have to decide if you’re the type of person who will mindlessly think, “Why yes. I DO happen to have a copy of that. Let me just pull down my pants and show you.”

Most people will have no problems overcoming this urge, but there are a few of you that could end up in jail because you just couldn’t resist the joke. If this sounds like you, then you might want to take a pass.

If, after consideration, a tattoo is not meant for you, you could also duct tape your ID to your body.

Dear Ceil,

I just heard about monocles, and I feel that they’re contributing to the downfall of society.

What can be done?

One-Eye Blind in Oregon

Dear One-Eye,

There’s nothing that can be done about the monocles now. They’ve already started to spread, like kudzu in the strawberry patch. That’s because once the public sees something that is not the bland, beaten-to-death old tropes that are repeated endlessly in print and on television ads, they follow it like moths to a flame.

“We must figure this out, this single-eye-glass. How shall we wear it? How shall we act while we wear it? What sort of person shall be like and engender as we wear our single lens?”

The expected answer to all of these questions by most people who see the Coming of the Monocle is “like an asshole.”

However, I take a much more moderate view. I think that for at least a good six months, the rest of us will enjoy people who are dropping their monocles in soups, under trains, in garbage bags, in piles of pet poop in the front yard, and down unfortunate street drains. I think it’s going to be just wonderful. Eyebrows will rise. Eyebrows will fall. It will seem as though something interesting was going on. But no, they’re just putting in a monocle. And then there will be the dramatic taking out and replacing of the monocle.

And the commenting about how much of a pain it is to wear a monocle, spoken by a monocle-wearer, who will then say, “but I just love it anyway. It’s so cool.”

Feel free to offer these people some Elmer’s glue, or duct tape.


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