One of the reasons I'm enjoying myself here at McMurdo is that the Antarctic lifestyle attracts a lot of people who, like me, seem to refuse to grow up. With its hot cafeteria meals, dorm rooms and shuttle busses, McMurdo's social ambiance might best be summed up as permanent college. It should therefore be no surprise to anyone that theme parties abound. After all, why go out and get drunk and dance all night when you can go out and get drunk and dance all night in silly costumes?
Many of those who attended Saturday evening's "70s" party at Gallagher's pub were too young to have memories of that glorious decade, when Steve McQueen drove cars in movies, a Republican president resigned and funk reached its apogee. It was also the decade in which, as my mother likes to remind me, I told my eighth-grade math teacher that "I just can't get into doing my homework." Rather a number of men inexplicably associated the 1970s with transvestitism and dressed in women's clothing, thereby helping improve the rather dire male-female gender ratio that is the cause of much McMurdo tension. I didn't have a costume, having left the gold-plated razor blade I usually wear around my neck back in Brooklyn, so I made do with pointing out to everyone that all my hair is real, and my own.
All Photographs courtesy of Sylvestre Guidi
Number One Soul Sister
Marsha gets Funky
Barry rocks the electric blue Rod Stewart mullet
Is that an armpit stain? That is soooo '70s
Stand back while I channel Elton John
Put your camera down and dance, cowboy
I'm pretty sure this is almost exactly what Deany looked like in 1979
Mardi Gras Escapee
Will gets wiggy
Laura's upset because she thought the dresscode read "1950s sorority girl" on the invitation
"Guys, where's my Harley? ...Guys. No, seriously. C'mon guys, it's not funny..."
Going home is just like 1988 when you walked out of "Save the Robots" on Avenue B and found to your horror that it was broad daylight outside
Many of those who attended Saturday evening's "70s" party at Gallagher's pub were too young to have memories of that glorious decade, when Steve McQueen drove cars in movies, a Republican president resigned and funk reached its apogee. It was also the decade in which, as my mother likes to remind me, I told my eighth-grade math teacher that "I just can't get into doing my homework." Rather a number of men inexplicably associated the 1970s with transvestitism and dressed in women's clothing, thereby helping improve the rather dire male-female gender ratio that is the cause of much McMurdo tension. I didn't have a costume, having left the gold-plated razor blade I usually wear around my neck back in Brooklyn, so I made do with pointing out to everyone that all my hair is real, and my own.
All Photographs courtesy of Sylvestre Guidi
Number One Soul Sister
Marsha gets Funky
Barry rocks the electric blue Rod Stewart mullet
Is that an armpit stain? That is soooo '70s
Stand back while I channel Elton John
Put your camera down and dance, cowboy
I'm pretty sure this is almost exactly what Deany looked like in 1979
Mardi Gras Escapee
Will gets wiggy
Laura's upset because she thought the dresscode read "1950s sorority girl" on the invitation
"Guys, where's my Harley? ...Guys. No, seriously. C'mon guys, it's not funny..."
Going home is just like 1988 when you walked out of "Save the Robots" on Avenue B and found to your horror that it was broad daylight outside
6 comments:
uh, excuse my absence and please remind me, where are you again, Buffalo, NY?
Showed the photos to Carla and she asked, "How did get his records down there?" I said, "I dunno."
Jonny
Oh, Snap! On the checkin, the fellow flan, the legend. My mellow, how I wished I had some of my vinyl down here. I was jonesing to hear "Love Money" by the Funkmasters, or anything by Cerrone. I should have bum-rushed the booth with the killer ipod and gone all postal. "Standing in the Rain" would've murdered it. Unfortunately it was all the usual stuff ala Wild Cherry, Hot Chocolate, KC's worse stuff, Abba, you know. But we boogied. No Doubt. Send me an mp3 of "Let No Man Put Asunder," I'm fiending.
Alex and I have decided to ship all or your records and gear down to you directly. Will be there in time for the Christmas Eve Fete.
No comment -
the above-mentioned mother
Naah, don't worry about the armpit stain! They say that sexual attractiveness of a male is highest when the last shower is 24 hours ago and the pheromones are in full bloom...
love from the Jungle,
the schmergel-connection
Worried? Who said anything about worried?
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