F2 enters the slug, and control-F9 splits the screen, but remember, within an E-V queue, shift-F2 switches sides, and shift-F10 prints. You understand?"
As I nodded, the blank look shooting out of my eyes splattered all over the office. It was the first day of my internship, and I was taking it all in like a seamstress at a weight-loss camp. Straight off, I noted the technically-amazing paper-free office, the scientifically-designed lighting scheme and the all-you-can-snarf free potato chips in tempting "prawn and cocktail" and "roast chicken" flavors. But as the hours passed, I began to notice another sign of sameness -- superficial office conversation.
"How was your Christmas?" cooed absolutely everyone. Being Jewish deadens that line of questioning quite nicely, but soon Christmas passes. "How was your New Year's?" rang the new slogan. That one was slightly more painful, because the truth was about as exciting as a
gallon of white paint.
Sprawled on the floor of my visiting family's hotel room, I endured the agony of trying to stay awake until midnight while being aided by drop-dead dull BBC television. At midnight I uttered a sarcastic little "wow" as my mom planted a kiss on my forehead. That night it occured to me that I really needed to spice up my life. So that's what I did, with a little help from Sporty, Scary, Ginger, Baby and Posh.
On New Year's Day, in a theatre surprisingly packed with college students, I became the first member of the Dartmouth community to see "SpiceWorld" the movie. And it was fabulous. Sure, the Spice Girls' movie was the cinematic equivalent of roadkill, but as I put my brain into neutral, I was deliciously overcome by spandex, hairdos and bubble and squeak dialogue. And oh yeah, music.
The virtues of the Spice Girls rarely get recognized in our cynical social circles. Sure, they're not particularly bright, talented or gorgeous ... or great singers or dancers, but the Girls do have one incredible gift -- they're absurdly hilarious! The image consultants at Spice Girl Central took five would-be supermarket check-out girls and made Josie and the Pussycats a living, breathing, merchandising reality.
Britain is CRAZY for them! They are on the radio every 12 seconds and literally in every single newspaper every single day. Britons conscientious enough to keep up with the "news" know that Posh is engaged to a soccer star, Baby's having a fling with the group's ex-manager, and the group's third, yes third, album of poptastic cheez-whiz will be out later this year. Never mind the massacre in Algeria, the Spice Girls are news!
They're on potato chips, Pepsi, polaroid cameras, T-shirts, bags, jewelry, lollipops, perfume, trading cards ... it's hilarious! And as for their Girl Power mantra, I'm certainly game for women's equality, but Ginger Spice's "Girl Power" mini-tees concaved and distorted by the curvacious wonders of silicon make me snicker every time. Them's fightin' words from a former stripper.
Nelson Mandela met them in South Africa and told reporters it was one of the happiest moments of his life. The Spiceys have respected world leaders making "zig-a-zig ha" jokes. The more I look around, the more ridiculous this world seems. When a bimbo in eighteen-inch platform sneakers brings Europe to its knees, you've just got to laugh.
And laugh at "SpiceWorld" I did. From its corny James Bond beginning to its exploding cliched ending, the movie was a delightful mindless merengue puff. The Girls ride around London in a Union Jack-painted bus, pausing long enough to primp to the camera in dozens of feathery, sparkly, lacy and otherwise tacky outfits. They sleep in full make-up and wear matching neon bathrobes, all the while controlled by an army of power-suited marketing wizards sitting in big London office buildings like mine. The absurdity meter is off the scale.
As long as the Spice Girls roam the earth, you simply can't take yourself too seriously. If they've taught me anything, it's that we may be America's brightest Ivy League minds, and we may work very hard at school, sports and hobbies, but at the end of the day, we can let it go. The world isn't as serious as we sometimes think. It can be fun to strut around your room in a purple feather boa, lip-synching Wham, because beneath reality runs a ribbon of hilarious absurdity. Sure it's dumb, but it's a fun release from an all-too-stressful life. Find your own way of doing the mental macarena and don't feel guilty about it.
And take wise advice -- too much of something is bad enough. Space out, make bad puns, and be who you wannabe.
