Turn down for nothing. Except Sade.

turn-down-for-kq5lay

I went to a stagette in Seattle at the beginning of August and drove there from Vancouver with four other gals, three of who were joining from Victoria. The two of us living on the Vancouver side drove to pick the Vic trio up from the ferry so we’d all head south together. About 15 minutes from the ferry terminal, my Van cohort got a speeding ticket, mostly in light of my being 15 minutes late to leave. Upon arrival, team Vic were drinking El Jimadors in the pick-up lot at the terminal. It was 9:25 am on a Sunday and not a long weekend.

And so our story goes, as most of my favourites tend to: beginning with a bunch liquor, pals, and a road trip; ending with a list.

As a group of fairly responsible 30-year-olds who mostly “don’t party like we used to,” you can imagine we were indeed letting loose for this two-day trip. It didn’t mean everyone was about to eschew all responsibility on their respective home fronts for the party, though. We brought lots of water and a few snacks to accompany the duffle bags packed full of drinks. Our valiant driver stayed sober the trip down, across the border, a boozy Bellingham brunch, and a Bellis Fair-esque outlet malling. And when a cry for help came in from one’s boyfriend back home in Victoria, yes, it wasn’t ignored.

As said friend was texting frustratedly with her boyfriend about something to do with household chores, she got a bit impatient and decided to call him to clear it up. We were being loud as heck in the background, singing to golden nuggets of days present and past like *cringe* Ja Rule and Ludacris and Lil Jon when our pal tells us to just be quiet for just a sec.

So, turn down for what?

“Turn down because I’m on the phone with [boyfriend] and he doesn’t know where to put the recycling and it’s supposed to get picked up tomorrow and it’s like two weeks between pickups.” So turn down because nobody wants their kitchen to smell like old greasy cardboard piled under two previous weeks of greasy cardboard for the next two weeks.

This, of course, lead to our inevitable transforming of the song title from a statement to the undying question that has been pressing us all since the release of Lil Jon and DJ Snake’s absurdly popular track last December: Turn down for what?

Over the course of the trip, we pondered this question deeply over many conversations from Vancouver to Seattle, from laying on the hotel floor, to yelling over music in a dozen or so bars, to devouring crab risotto while overlooking Puget Sound, to throwing glowing balls all over an indoor bocce court, and concocted a list of things we thought Lil Jon would turn down for. I started a Note in my phone listing our witticisms. I continued to hone it with the idea that I’d submit it to McSweeney’s lists, because I love a good list (not you, Buzzfeed), and will someday have one published there.

Unfortunately, as witty as we may be, I can also be quite the procrastinator and a year behind pop culture sometimes. So imagine my surprise and dismay when I found this pop up in my newsfeed a few days before I felt like the master list was complete and ready for submission to the world of the internet.

This prompted me to google the subject for the first time, which lead me to realize that our question wasn’t only pressing the minds of me and the rest of the pre-wedding partying ladies. Not surprised.

Either way, I’m pretty impressed that we were right on one topic and close on a few others. But then again, you’d be an idiot to not turn down for Sade. See my following pre-Aux list, a collaborative effort by the five of us.

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The moral of the story? Don’t procrastinate. Just do it already. Don’t turn down. And maybe I’ll still submit to McSweeney’s.

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