Snippy Out!

First of all, Peter, will you marry me?

Second of all, remaining men of the world, you’ll have to start working really hard at your flattery skills if you’re going to bypass this guy.  For reals.

Third of all, what does it say about a person when the nicest things anyone has ever said about them come from someone she’s never met, who knows her only via this blog?  I think it means I’m one kick ass writer.  Don’t try to take that away from me, haters.

You’ve read some of his raves about me before, because I always make sure to direct you to them so you can recognize how lucky you are to be privy to the existence of my blog.  Dude, this guy has read thousands of blogs this month. . . if I’m one of his favorites?  That means I’m kicking the ass of thousands of other bloggers (who I’m sure are all very, very good, but I’m too self absorbed to spend the time reading their blogs when I could be writing mine!). 

Here’s his latest:
“Flying.” Flying is the only Beatles-penned instrumental, and the only Beatles song with a writing credit to each member of the group. And it falls on Snippy, not only my favorite S blog, but one of my favorite blogs of the whole damn month. I can’t really explain it in a way i’m sure you would understand. She fills mundane disappointments with humor, mostly owing to her deep recesses of sarcasm.

I guess i just like being able to write a mostly personal blogger without feeling like i need a 12-page primer on their entire life’s history.

I feel like I should just quit blogging now, while I’m receiving accolades, while I’m still ahead. 

I like that he picked the Aerosmith entry to reference.  That’s one of my personal favorites.  Not because YOU ALL SUCK ENORMOUS AMOUNTS OF SUPER HUGE MASSIVE SUCKINESS and didn’t take me to the Aerosmith concert. . . but because I was having a pretty funny day despite the world crashing all around me. 

Better late than never. *shrugs*

I’m sitting in a state of shock right now.  I’m honestly in a bit of a frozen disbelief at the new information I have.  The kind of frozen disbelief that makes you want to vomit, but renders you just immobile enough that you can’t even wretch. 

Right, so, I’m too good for him (like, waaaaaaaay too good for him).  I mean, relatively speaking.  Given what I now know.

How do I even go about reconciling that? 

I want to scrub my lips with Brillo pads.  Blech.  BLECH BLECH BLECH.

So, I guess that solves that infatuation problem.  *shudders at the exceedingly ridiculous level of gross* 

This is the stuff memories are made of. . .

The last movie-ready scene in my life occurred in 1997.  I worked as the night shift supervisor in the food court at one of the dorms.  One of the guys who worked there was a gorgeous doctor from Venezuela who came to the states to learn English.  He was in love with me, and who can blame him, really?  I always laughed off his adoration because he didn’t really know me, so I figured he was joking with me. . . until my dad came to visit and he asked his permission to marry me.  *blink, blink* 

I minored in Spanish, and he spoke very little English. . . so we were able to communicate with each other better than most people he ran into.  We talked a lot, laughed a lot. 

I knew him for 2 semesters.  We worked together that first semester, not the second.  But, we kept in touch via email.  He asked me, about 2 weeks before he was scheduled to head back to Venezuela, to go with him.  I laughed it off.  He insisted.  I laughed.  He begged.  I laughed more.  We didn’t speak again until the day he left. . . and that was by pure chance.

I was studying in the education building with a group from class.  This building has an open center. . . so the second floor essentially has a balcony all the way around overlooking the first floor lounge area.  I left my group to get a drink of water and just happened to look down over the balcony.   There he was looking back up at me.  I ran down the stairs to meet him, and leaped into his arms as he twirled me around.  It was the most ridiculously perfect moment in my life.  You know, until he begged me, again, to go with him, and I declined.  STUPID, STUPID GIRL! 

Fast forward. . . and imagine this scene:

The man I’ve waited my entire life for is finally finding his way to me.  I arrive at the airport early, anxious.  As he descends the escalator, bags in tow, I run from across baggage claim to meet him at the bottom of the escalator.  As I approach, he drops his bags to accomodate my jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs around him, squealing, crying, and making a huge scene.

Doesn’t that sound just wonderful?  Do you think the fact that this whole scene has been planned ahead of time, will occur with a guy I’ve not dated and certainly am not in love with, and will happen only because I need to prove to him that you don’t just go challenging me with ridiculous shit like that will lessen the moment?

He gets in late tomorrow night.  I’ll let you know Friday. 

Here’s what you’re up against, fellas.

I’m not typically big on sharing private correspondence with the world. . . but this was too good not to share.  It sent me into such a fit of laughter, I damn near fell out of my chair.  And, also, men of the world, I think you should see what the competition is bringing to the table so you can up your game accordingly.  I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

*****************************************************

This is my Heart:

This my heart on Snippy:

This is my heart if Snippy tells me to stop flirting with her:

This is my heart with a Footlong Veggie combo from Subway and an Orange flavored bottle of water:

****************************************************

This is my fascinating, wonderful, amazing business partner’s response to my forwarding of the message:

although i’d admit that he looks way happier with his heart on snippy…. he looks pretty content with the subway combo… maybe he should just stick to that since you aren’t really available…

and i think that you should steal his “quivering” pic and somehow use it – in a blog or something – explaining that THIS is how you leave men…. lol…

*****************************************************

And, this, Internet, is what my days regularly consist of.  It’s so fun to be me.

My life should be a musical.

Shit with this song, man.  SHIT.

THE ALL-AMERICAN REJECTS
“It Ends Tonight”

Your subtleties
They strangle me
I can’t explain myself at all.
And all the wants
And all the needs
All I don’t want to need at all.

The walls start breathing
My mind’s unweaving
Maybe it’s best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.

When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight
It ends tonight.

A falling star
Least I fall alone.
I can’t explain what you can’t explain.
You’re finding things that you didn’t know
I look at you with such disdain.

The walls start breathing
My mind’s unweaving
Maybe it’s best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won’t make this right
It’s too late to fight.
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.

Now I’m on my own side
It’s better than being on your side.
It’s my fault when you’re blind
It’s better that I see it through your eyes.

All these thoughts locked inside
Now you’re the first to know.

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won’t make this right
It’s too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends.

When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won’t make this right
It’s too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.

Tonight
Insight
When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight.

Oh, Internet, I’ve let you down.

It’s true.  You are going to be so disappointed in me.

I went to the event.  I even started the night with a Jagerbomb (and if you’re not familiar with this beverage, know it takes just one to make me tipsy).  I pounded the Jack & Cokes, interspersed with shots of tequila.  I got drunk.  So drunk, in fact, that I had my arm around Mr. Universe for an hour or so, just to keep myself from falling over.

So drunk that I asked the super fun guy that we went out with a couple weeks ago if there was a magical way into his apartment so I could just crash there instead of driving home.

So drunk that I forgot to meet the one person I was hellbent on meeting at that event.

BUT!  Not drunk enough to initiate any confrontations or long discussions.  Not drunk enough to start any drama.  Not drunk enough to care when the opportunity to create drama presented itself in a beautifully wrapped package.  I did good!  I’m so very proud of myself.

I’m proud of myself for not making a scene, for not humiliating anyone (myself included), and for remaining upright (albeit due to the presence of a sober man on which to lean, but still). 

I’m disappointed that I didn’t come out of it with any good stories to tell. . . but dudes, sometimes it’s just better that way.  Stories to tell would have been wicked fun, but also would’ve caused more problems than they’d have been worth.

Besides, I’m so looking forward to my Thursday that I care very little about my Tuesday. 

I don’t think you understand.

People keep warning me about all of the Italian men in Italy.  Really?  There are Italian men in Italy?  WHY DO YOU THINK I’M GOING TO ITALY?!  When you tell me that the men in Italy are aggressive, is that supposed to scare me?  Because it makes me want to go sooner and stay longer.  Are you new?  The thought of an entire country full of Italian men aggressively pursuing me is damn near the closest thing to heaven I can fathom. 

In COMPLETELY UNRELATED other news, I’m going to get rip roaring drunk tonight at an event full of people who should be used to seeing me drunk by now.  This may or may not be a good idea, and I can’t even tell you why! 

I am, in fact, meeting my favorite dancing guy of all time EARLY so that I can get to the event sufficiently inebriated and proceed to make an ass of myself even earlier than previously scheduled.  This promises to be good times, folks.  And, with any luck, I’ll come away from it with stories that I can tell. 

What happens when Bob leaves town?  I drink MORE and behave WORSE.  I bet most of you thought it was the other way around.

On second thought,

I guess I could tell you about how desperately I want to take an evening off, rent a few movies, pop some popcorn, make some cookie dough, and just sit in front of the dumb box getting fat.

However, that behavior is only acceptable when in the company of a man who will curl up with you, and eat twice as much cookie dough so you don’t feel guilty about all of the calories.

Grrr.  Right when I think I have myself talked into not needing man.

I was just thinking. . .

I have this list of things I think about during any given day and want to blog about later.  Sometimes, when I’m at a loss for anything interesting or humiliting to share with you, I grab that list and give you some crap about something I thought about a month ago.

Every once in awhile, the topic seems to pertain to current situations and people think they know what I’m blogging about, but they really don’t. 

I usually just let them go on thinking whatever they want because it’s just too much trouble to set everyone straight.  Besides, sometimes it’s none of your business who or what I’m blogging about!

Today, I’m at a loss for anything to write.  I pulled out that list and tried to write about a couple of those topics, but I got nothin’.  I’m in a bit of turmoil with some things right now, and usually, I’m pretty good about taking the most remarkably painful or uncomfortable situations and turning them into funny stories.  Right now, I’m at a loss with that skill. 

I bet it’s because I haven’t had any eggnog lattes lately.

Let’s get a few things straight.

1.  Pissing me off is not typically going to wind up in your favor.  You might consider not pissing me off, especially when I have no secrets and you have a lot of secrets. 

2.  Don’t lie to me.  Just don’t.

3.  Flattery will get you a lot farther than you think. 

4.  Reputations are very fragile things.  You should be careful with yours.

5.  If there’s a chance I might tell you off, you’re not going to want to feed me alcohol.  Trust me on this.

6.  It’s going to take a lot more than that to impress me. 

7.  You think you’re a lot more awesome than you actually are.  You also think you’re a lot more attractive than you are. 

8.  I push boundaries.  That’s who I am.  If you let me get away with it, I jump right over the line and tip toe further and further along until you stop me.  You can’t really scold me for it when you’re running a mile farther out than I am.

9.  I’m not going to stop being friends with him.  DROP IT ALREADY.

10.  Target is selling batteries in the $1 section now.  So, I’m good.  Thanks.

Current Soundtrack

Make your own assumptions.  They’re always more interesting than the truth, anyway. 

I guess I should’ve known by the way you parked your car
sideways that it wouldn’t last
See, you’re the kinda person that believes in makin’ out once
Love ‘em and leave ‘em fast
Prince – “Little Red Corvette”

But, Lord knows that I’m not you
And if I was, I wouldn’t be so cruel
Jack Johnson – “Sitting, Waiting, Wishin”

Well, you’re all upset about nothin’. . .
Just keep the bullshit to yourself
Rich Hardesty – “Never Wanna Fuckin’ See You Again”

You must not know ’bout me
I could have another you in a minute
Matter of fact, he’ll be here in a minute, baby…
I’ll have another you by tomorrow
So don’t you ever for a second get to thinking
You’re irreplacable
Beyonce – “Irreplacable”

Something in your eyes
makes me wanna lose myself
Makes me wanna lose myself in your heart
There’s something in your voice
makes my heart beat fast
Chantal Kreviazuk – “It Feels Like Home”

Not that you’re the one
Not to say I’m right
Not to say today
Not to say a thing tonight
Suffice it to say
We’re leaving things unsaid
The Fray – “Unsaid”

It seems like I’m really angry, and then mushy.  And, that’s confusing.  But, there are things that are, for lack of any word in the English language that expresses how fucking retarded they are, FUCKING RETARDED.  There are other things that are going very, very, very  well, thanks.  Aaaah, and in a few days, I’ll get to see the part of things that are going very, very, very well, and I’ll see if I can’t get some permission to blog about the things that are going very, very, very well.  *giggle*

Unfair

So.  I was kidding about the busting out in song while running.  I didn’t really think I’d actually do it.  But, you know me.  *sigh*

Here’s what’s unfair about it.  The song that got me wasn’t on the list of songs I told you I’d be running to.  Which is actually a relief because I didn’t want to send anyone audio of me singing.  Whew.

You’re going to need to go ahead and visualize this because I was actually embarrassed, which doesn’t happen easily, so I’m going to need you to fully appreciate the scenario, please.

Without further ado, I present you the song I could not refrain from shouting:

War – Edwinn Starr

You know, the “huh” part. 

War, HUH, good God y’all
What is it good for?

Which, for some reason, seems entirely rational to shout out during a run.  Right, so I run Town Lake almost every afternoon now. . . feel free to come out and enjoy the show.