My Top 5 Paris Gellar-isms

I had an entry prepared for last week that discussed how I was trying to mine for hope after the presidential election results came out, but ultimately decided against posting it because a) I was trying to promote an understanding that I was having a hard time experiencing and b) I was trying to make sense of something that didn’t make sense to me, and so the resulting entry was essentially nonsense.

But onward and awkward. Let’s talk about the Gilmore Girls revival. Because while women will have to continue to wait for societal equality, we will no longer have to wait for more quick, witty banter, obscure pop culture references, and Emily Gilmore zingers.

I love Gilmore Girls. It was one of my favorite shows growing up and I perhaps love it even more now. I associate it with these feelings of complete comfort and acceptance. The Stars Hollow universe was a place where people could just kind of be who they were, and when I was young, I really wanted a place like that, even if I really had no idea who I was.

In my not-always-popular opinion, the two best characters on Gilmore Girls are Emily Gilmore and Paris Gellar. It is rare to find fully-fleshed, completely grounded, complex female characters on television, and the Palladinos absolutely nailed it with these two. Plus, truthfully, I’m a bit biased because Emily reminds me of my own mother and grandmother in many ways and because Paris Gellar reminds me of me, especially me in high school and the first ½ of college—a young girl so terrified of loneliness and inadequacy that she refuses to emotionally connect with anyone, out of fear that they will make her feel lonely and inadequate, and in turn directly causes her own loneliness and perpetuates her own feelings of inadequacy (well, social inadequacy, at any rate. To compensate, she throws all of herself into feeling intellectually adequate, which I can also really relate to). A couple months ago when that “Post Your 3 Fictional Characters” thing was all over the internet, I never ended up posting mine because I firmly concluded Liz Lemon and Paris Gellar, and then I couldn’t decide between Hermione Granger and Daria. Probably will go with Hermione because it makes me less worried about myself.

Anywho, in honor of the revival, here are my top 5 most Paris Gellar-isms.

  1. I have this notion ingrained in my head that there is a right way to “do” parties, that socializing is a completely objective thing that I can crack scientifically through hypotheses, trial, and error. Therefore, I get excited when I go out somewhere, in the hopes that I will figure it out this time. Instead, I end up woefully disappointed and profusely regret not staying home.
  2. Yesterday, at work, I got into a heated argument about apostrophes. One of my biggest grammatical pet peeves is that many think adding an apostrophe and an “s” on a word that is not normally pluralized is the proper way to pluralize it. That is not true. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s true. I waited until everyone was gone and corrected the offending bulletin board that caused the problem in the first place.
  3. After I see a movie, I immediately start commenting on all the flaws in the script. It takes me days to decide whether or not I enjoyed it.
  4. I have a vivid memory of when I was six-years-old and some boys were making fun of me. Of course it was getting to me but instead of outwardly crying, I just looked straight at them and said, “You are primitive knuckle-draggers who don’t understand anything about anything and choose to translate your confusion into obnoxious behavior. I will not be a victim to such stupidity. Good day gentlemen.” (My grandmother watched me a lot when I was a kid and she was a big vocabulary advocate.) They just looked at me, silently, like I was nuts. Then another girl told them to eat poop. This girl ended up being my best friend for a really long time.
  5. You should see my boyfriend and me dance. Classic Paris and Doyle.

Further to the point, Paris and I also share the same bitchy resting face. I would love to see her reaction to someone telling her to smile. Also, when I argue, I argue loudly, firmly, and I talk as fast as I can. I like to think I picked that up from her.

November 25th can’t get here fast enough!!!!

Your Perfect Woman

Hello, I am your perfect woman.

I am completely hairless, outside of the hair on top of my head

(blonde or brunette, your choice),

Long lashes, thin eyebrows.

The rest of me maintains the smoothness of a fresh wax

Without having to go to the salon,

Like a Thanksgiving turkey before it goes in the oven.

I somehow have a tiny waist,

Large, perky tits and a plump, firm ass,

That physically could not be held up by my long, thin legs,

But what can I say? I’m perfect.

I don’t wear makeup because I don’t have to,

Because I look like I’m wearing it even when I’m not;

I wake up in the morning with a smile, looking bright,

With breath that smells like a spring daisy.

I don’t fart.

Or burp.

Or chafe.

Or sweat.

My sneezes and coughs tiptoe around your important conversations.

What was that sport you like again?

I know everything about it.

I drink whiskey, but it doesn’t make me mean or sloppy.

No, when I drink, I just become more lively, more dazzling,

And more horny (but I’m not a slut).

I eat racks of ribs without getting sauce on my face

And I chew as quietly as I sneeze.

You love me because I call people out on their b.s.

But I never call you out on anything

Because I agree with you on everything.

I’m smart, but I’m not smarter than you.

I’m funny, but I’m not funnier than you.

I’m financially independent, but I don’t make more money than you.

I’m never too tired to do things for you;

I keep clean and don’t say an un-clever word.

I’m sweet and kind and innocent.

I’m tough and strong and worldly.

I need you when you want to be needed

And no more or less than that.

I call you when you miss me

And no more or less than that.

I want to have sex whenever you want to

(but I’m not a slut).

In fact, I’ve never had sex before you,

But I’m really good at it.

And I love sexy underwear.

Really, I love it.

I love how the thong nestles itself in my butt,

Like food stuck in your teeth,

And how the lace makes me itch

Like bugs crawling over me.

But I wouldn’t think of revealing my skin to others.

My body is yours, darling.

I never embarrass you because I’m always “on.”

I’m never emotionally vulnerable;

That would make me crazy.

In fact, maybe I’m too guarded

Because of my insecurities,

Because even though I’m perfect,

I just don’t realize it.

You need something to fix, after all.

I’m your perfect woman

And you will settle for no less.