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I'm so bershon...
Flickr photo pool of "I'm so bershon..." pictures. The definition of bershon, ripped from the site:
Which reminds me that last week, the best part of working the ref desk was seeing the new freshmen come in with their families. This one guy came in with his parents, who were Just! So! Excited! that their child was going off to college. The guy was wearing his sunglasses inside the building, had his iPod in one ear, and was in all ways desperately trying to give the impression that he wasn't with these crazy people, he just happened to be coincidentally walking in the same direction.
His userID for the campus hadn't been loaded into the library yet, so I let him use my computer to check his email and get his dorm information, while his mother fluttered about being overly motherly and unhelpful. He'd just gotten information that he had been accepted into the dorm that housed international students as well as domestic, along with the news that his roommate was Jordanian. Which sent his mother off into another flutter about whether his roommate would be able to speak English or not. I eventually reassured her that has he had been accepted to the university, he would have at least a certain basic proficiency level.
And then his parents started in on worrying about where to park for move-in, and I had to reassure them that yes, the school would indeed have signs posted directing you where to park, and people standing around to direct you to the dorms (which is far more than my school ever did, actually). And after they said that they were going to go visit the dorm so they could see if he was going to need for them to buy anything, I informed them that there was one very important piece of equipment that he was going to find he needed in the first week of school. They got big-eyed and leaned closer and whispered "What?" And I said, "A water gun." Which thrilled his mother no end, so I fully expect the kid was in possession of a Super-Soaker before the day was out.
P.S. Mello is way too cool to be bershon. And he hates you for thinking of it.
Bershon is a word that I’m pretty sure is not really a word at all, but my friend Erin and I, growing up in two different cities, both encountered it separately in our youth. Both of us heard it used in exactly the same manner, namely the cool girls in middle school rolling their eyes and saying, “… and Kayla said yes, and I was like, ohmyGOD, whatever, I’m SO BERSHON.”
The spirit of bershon is pretty much how you feel when you’re 13 and your parents make you wear a Christmas sweatshirt and then pose for a family picture, and you could not possibly summon one more ounce of disgust, but you’re also way too cool to really even DEAL with it, so you just make this face like you smelled something bad and sort of roll your eyes and seethe in a put-out manner.
Kelly Taylor from Beverly Hills, 90210 is the patron saint of bershon, as her face, like most other teenagers’, was permanently frozen in this expression.
Everyone has a bershon pic; it’s probably your eighth grade school picture.
Which reminds me that last week, the best part of working the ref desk was seeing the new freshmen come in with their families. This one guy came in with his parents, who were Just! So! Excited! that their child was going off to college. The guy was wearing his sunglasses inside the building, had his iPod in one ear, and was in all ways desperately trying to give the impression that he wasn't with these crazy people, he just happened to be coincidentally walking in the same direction.
His userID for the campus hadn't been loaded into the library yet, so I let him use my computer to check his email and get his dorm information, while his mother fluttered about being overly motherly and unhelpful. He'd just gotten information that he had been accepted into the dorm that housed international students as well as domestic, along with the news that his roommate was Jordanian. Which sent his mother off into another flutter about whether his roommate would be able to speak English or not. I eventually reassured her that has he had been accepted to the university, he would have at least a certain basic proficiency level.
And then his parents started in on worrying about where to park for move-in, and I had to reassure them that yes, the school would indeed have signs posted directing you where to park, and people standing around to direct you to the dorms (which is far more than my school ever did, actually). And after they said that they were going to go visit the dorm so they could see if he was going to need for them to buy anything, I informed them that there was one very important piece of equipment that he was going to find he needed in the first week of school. They got big-eyed and leaned closer and whispered "What?" And I said, "A water gun." Which thrilled his mother no end, so I fully expect the kid was in possession of a Super-Soaker before the day was out.
P.S. Mello is way too cool to be bershon. And he hates you for thinking of it.
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That is the truth of Mello.
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I finally ran into Mello for the first time yesterday, reading the latest DN volume, and WOW. He's... very... interesting?
I wasn't expecting him to be quite so twitchy and over-emotive, but damn. Obata's art is just awesome.
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pretty, pretty princessman of many faces.no subject
Then again, I'm the one who asks strangers incredibly intimate questions. "Excuse me, sir, how often do you masturbate? Oh, come on, give me a ballpark figure."
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When we travel, those aspects of our personalities get exagerrated, so Mom gets exceptionally airheaded and I go seriously bitchy. XD
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of course i get that look everyday at work from the dozens of teenage girls who have perfected the eye roll and the "how can everyone else be so stupid?" look.
i mastered mine at the ripe old age of 13, but every once in a while is sneaks out.
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I was pretty good at it, I think, too. XD
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