The Art of Being A Sass

Obnoxiously large monster slippers + bubbles = sassy

Obnoxiously large monster slippers + bubbles = sassy

Okay, so, another key part of being a festie is being a SASS.

/sas/noun A person who exhibits a combination of the following characteristics at least 92.3% of the time:

  • speaking almost exclusively with sarcasm
  • smiling sweetly while saying something cheeky
  • excessive use of witty retorts
  • inappropriate jokes (at the expense of others, usually)
  • talking back using a cheerful tone of voice (this can be accompanied with a sweet, innocent smile and/or batting of eyelashes)
  • denying any act of cunning or trickery with claims of innocence

Becca and I both fit the bill in the sass department. The peak of our sassiness no doubt came out in the woodshop at UW-Madison, our home for the majority of our undergrad career. I mean who am I kidding. My shop nickname was Marley Sass… Some of the newer graduate students even thought that my last name was actually Sass. And just incase the point hasn’t already been driven home, my instructor addressed my grade sheets to “Marley Sass” or simply just “Sass”. Also, we wore matching Spiderman aprons. So, yeah. You get the picture.

So, to illustrate the point a little more clearly, I will try to define the different levels of sass.

Level One:  Small Sass Level one Sass is basically harmless. It is comedic. It fills the air with laughter and happiness. Chuckles and smiles. Standard Sass is mostly witty one liners and quips. On any ol’ day in the woodshop… “Can you pass me the glue?” “No, get your own.” or “Pass yourself the glue.” Followed by smile/giggle and then the glue is actually passed. OR, while discussing possible names for the second level of sass… Becca: “You should just call the second level Standard Sass and the first level Small Sass.” Marley: Snorts “Small Sass?” Becca: Looks in the general direction of my bum and smirks “You have a small sass.” OR, Marie (our other roomie) was showing off her family Christmas card, and Becca said, “Marie, you are definitely the prettiest.” Marie: “Prettier than my brothers? Gee, thanks!” A few minutes later, we were talking about make-up. Marie was explaining how she had looked through my make-up bag to check out different products because she was heading online to stock up. Becca: “Why didn’t you look through my make-up?” Marie: “You weren’t here!” Becca had indeed been out of town all weekend, make-up bag in tow. Becca: “I’m not pretty?!!” Marie: “You’re so pretty! You’re prettier than my brothers!” Boom! SASS ATTACK IN DA HIZZOUSE!

Smal Sass

Small Sass – “Get that camera out of my face.”

Level Two: Standard Sass Level two sass is generally a feud between the festies. Yes, sometimes we fight, and sometimes things get ugly.  Many of these festie feuds occur in high stress situations – like at the end of the semester when we are running around like festie freaks trying to get our projects finished. Sidenote: it’s basically a proven fact that sass relieves stress. I have hardly any wrinkles on my face. In a secondary sass situation, Becca and I will be chatting, you know, lots of witty banter – small sass, if you will. And then, the small sass becomes inflamed, and transforms into standard sass. I’ll just continue with the woodshop small sass example to illustrate this transformation.  “Can you pass me the glue?”  “Pass yourself the glue.” No glue is passed. Glares are exchanged. Glue bottle is shoved towards the other person, it topples over and rolls off of the table, dribbling glue on the floor. “Watch it!” / “What are you trying to do, RUIN MY LIFE?!” “YEAH! That’s exactly it, because everything is always all about you all the time.” “We are SO not festies anymore!” “Yeah, well TOO BAD I ALREADY DECIDED WE AREN’T!” Period of mutual pouting ensues. Usually anywhere from 3-50 minutes later we are back in full-fledge festie mode.

Level Three: Super Sass Level three is arguably the most common level of sass (for us). Maybe it’s tied with small sass. It’s hard to say. Super Sass is a result of the ultimate hive-mind between the festies. This is the level in which we are lewd, crude, and crass. This generally results in everyone else feeling very uncomfortable. That’s what she said jokes occur in a very high volume, especially at inappropriate times, such as during demos. Heath, our instructor, was teaching us how to cut dados. Heath, explaining how the pieces should fit together: “It should fit snuggly. You don’t want it to be too tight. It should slide easily. Here, I’ll just pass them (the pieces of wood) around; slide it in and out to see how it feels.” Becca and I made eye contact and said simultaneously “THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!” Real mature, we know. At this point I was blushing x574823 and doubled over in a fit of silent laughter, tears running down my cheeks. I’m not really sure what Becca was doing – she holds her composure a little better than I do, so she was probably playing it cool, enforcing our lewdness. Our peers were giggling and looking nervously at each other… Talk about Awkward… Heath simply shook his head in disappointment, but I swear I spied him smiling for a second…!

Sassy people only shave half of their face

Sassy people only shave half of their face

So there you have it folks, The Three Levels of Sass. After reading the definition, have you realized you are a sass? Do you guys like That’s What She Said jokes as much as we do? Which level of sass do you utilize the most? I find it hard to believe we are only sasses in this lewd large world…

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