party experiments

My friends had a “future” theme party on the night we set the clocks ahead for daylight savings time. (I’ve been too lazy to document it until now.) Given the fact that we were to lose an hour of sleep the next day, this was a cruel thing to do. Given the fact that the next day was also extremely sunny and unseasonably warm, this was actually the epitome of cruel.

It was a very, very drunk evening at a giant, crowded party of guests who dressed up as themselves in the future. I showed up in a bathrobe, symbolizing my retirement. I plan to get rid of all my clothing and roam around wearing nothing but a bathrobe (even in public). My two future-themed experiments were a time capsule for party guests to donate items and a digital recording of guests offering themselves a message in the future. The question I posed was, “What message would you give yourself 50 years in the future?”

Admittedly, I slipped a few times and said, “What advice would you give yourself 50 years in the future?” rather than asking for a message or, more generally, “what you would say to yourself in 50 years.” Some people had trouble with this. Many gave themselves what seemed like advice for the current year. Others gave advice to themselves in the past. One just flat out refused to answer based on the principle that you cannot give yourself advice for the future because, theoretically, you should have already followed that advice presuming that your future self remembered the message. I shouldn’t have expected conceptual thinking or proper verb conjugation from a bunch of drunken fools in the first place, but the results are interesting nonetheless. Here they are (verbatim):

This thing doesn’t work. This thing is technology.

Be good to everybody (That was in Bill & Ted’s!).

You shouldn’t have taken that little tab at that show in 1988. That really fucked with you.

You better go to Hawaii in the summer of 2007.

I hope you haven’t gained too much weight. You know, you’ve seen your dad and you don’t want to end up like your dad. Stay in touch with your feminine side. I hope you have feelings.

The number four horse, twenty-eleven, place!

Hang in there!

Note to self: You wanna be that old bag that’s alive 100 years from now giving your great, great, great, great grandchildren advice. Stay alive! Eat your apple jacks with ya vitamins and ya fortification so you’ll be sayin’, “Back in my day, maxi pads were only made of plastic and we only had 2 arms!’

I told you so!

Relax, it’s gonna be fine. You know you don’t have to worry so much. It’s gonna be fine.

Don’t take advice from yourself when you’re drunk!

Listen to more Devo.

Please do not destroy yourself. Please do not progress to the point where you no longer resist tension. Please, Mr. Wickford, no longer kill yourself. Never ever kill yourself. There must be some time where you believe you are not the Eden. You are not the end.

Get a job, find life fulfillment, be happy when you die.

Oh Jesse, you’re still digging holes under foundations. What a loser! Get a life!

Two things: Drink more and lighten up, baby!

I know you’re someone I’ll know in 50 years. I know! In 25 years, I’m gonna be 50. Muthafucka, you better make some good films. Make good films, a few. I’ll still be chillin’ with Rachel.

You better still be wearing striped stockings, be a damn good gardener, be inspired, and be alive.

Relax!

Erin, you definitely need to get your lips done. They’re not looking as plump and fluffy as they should be. Your lips are drooping and sagging down to your boobs and your boobs are sagging down to your waist. So basically, you’re not lookin’ so good. Start at the top and work your way down.

Thank god the earth is growing.

Tell those fucking kids to get off your motherfucking lawn, cuz your lawn and really nice and they are all gonna be pissing anarchy symbols on it and playing whiffle ball. And you know what’ll happen? I’ll fuck you until you get off my lawn! You’re gonna bleeeeeeeed, get off…my lawn!

Hello. Hope you’re doing well. Don’t take any wooden nickels.

Get rid of all the small, daily stresses of your life.

Don’t be fooled, those aren’t real twenties.

Never listen to authority.

The 90s really sucked. Don’t go back to the 90s.
I believe the children are the future. Teach them well and they will lead the way.

How do I know that in 50 years’ time that I didn’t already follow my advice?

Do you still wish you had something cooler in your handbag than just a hair tie?

Grow your money now!

I would like to commend you on you rnew position as a dictator of a small island in the South Pacific. It’s well deserved. You’re one sexy bitch!

Yeaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Be sure that you turn the stove off before you leave the house. Always lock your door. And frequently change the litter box, cuz that shit smells.

Never bullshit anyone cuz it doesn’t get you anywhere.

I hope I life a god damn good life.

West Virginia isn’t nearly almost heaven. It’s almost hell! It’s hot and humid there. I lived there in a past life and pa made me work on the wagons. I didn’t like the goats. There were a lot of flies. It was hell.

Relax, have fun, live life.

Don’t turn into the other lane very quickly. Look over your shoulder first!

Stop leaving puppies for people.

Google me or whatever modern form of attainment there is.