Women
I'll be careful here. I could end up 3 days older with 50,000 words and an inkling of carpal tunnel. Or I could end up very very single. So I'll avoid the elephant in the room (DO NOT MISCONSTRUE THAT STATEMENT!!!), and just point out a discussion.
Christine. She needs a nickname for the blog...something like the The Miller Girl (TMG), but from time to time (in particularly times like this) she may morph into the jerminator.
Anyhow, she got new glasses. Very cute frames. Not overly impressed with the funky attachment thingies on the sides. Maybe I'll grow accustomed to them. Maybe she'll put them down and be unable to find them (hell, why do you think she wears glasses in the first place?). Bottom line: I like them, they're different, but so is she and that's what makes her special.
Like most things, if I'm not floored with the new accessory, then she deems either it sucks or I do.
Most of you know of my Tiburon experience (I was surfing off the coast of Cabo...I wish). Alas, the Tiburon is a Korean car. One drove past us yesterday and this is what I got:
"How come you like funky attachments on cars but not eyeglasses?"
I want you to take a moment here. It's easy to read through these things fast, but let this one sink in.
"How come you like funky attachments on cars but not eyeglasses?"
What?!
Think buildings imploding in perfect harmony.
This is the moment that joins nonsingle men together for sundays of football, beer softball, tinkering in the garage, and very very dark bars.
"The lights on backs of cars remind me of eyes. And the stuff all around them reminds me of eyeglasses. And the Tiburon has funky attachments...."
You visualize what would happen if you just disappeared instantly. You put your fingers in your ears to keep your brain from leaking out. You go to your happy place.
And at this point, I know I'm screwed. My genes are bankrupt of having any capacity to not make things go sour. If I speak, it's in incomprehensible utterances, of which she gets the main message, ultimately being, "Icepick me in the eyeball! Do it now! It's an eyeglass frame design. My opinion is valid for the 2 seconds it takes until I get distracted by thoughts of power tools or things with balls and violence. Then I forget about it until you make comparisons with flashy low end sports cars...which, by the way, arghhhhhhhh!" If I don't speak, then I may as well just be standoffish about how much I hate the glasses.
"Because the Tiburon is a Korean car, and it looks like the eyes are slanty"
I think I deemed it impossible to intentionally swallow my tongue in the next 5 seconds. The things you'd do for an on-demand seizure disorder sometimes...
But just like that, it was over. Your head's still a little light. You're not entirely sure if the coast is clear, so you play it cool for a couple mins, say something nice about [insert clothing item not related to article of current discussion here], and hope to God you don't see anymore slanty-lighted cars for the rest of the day. You then get several hour of normalcy. You rediscover everything wonderful about this person that you've chosen to spend your life with. You made it through your day with minimal casualties in this crazy crazy minefield many of us walk everyday.
Good Lord.
Women.
Christine. She needs a nickname for the blog...something like the The Miller Girl (TMG), but from time to time (in particularly times like this) she may morph into the jerminator.
Anyhow, she got new glasses. Very cute frames. Not overly impressed with the funky attachment thingies on the sides. Maybe I'll grow accustomed to them. Maybe she'll put them down and be unable to find them (hell, why do you think she wears glasses in the first place?). Bottom line: I like them, they're different, but so is she and that's what makes her special.
Like most things, if I'm not floored with the new accessory, then she deems either it sucks or I do.
Most of you know of my Tiburon experience (I was surfing off the coast of Cabo...I wish). Alas, the Tiburon is a Korean car. One drove past us yesterday and this is what I got:
"How come you like funky attachments on cars but not eyeglasses?"
I want you to take a moment here. It's easy to read through these things fast, but let this one sink in.
"How come you like funky attachments on cars but not eyeglasses?"
What?!
Think buildings imploding in perfect harmony.
This is the moment that joins nonsingle men together for sundays of football, beer softball, tinkering in the garage, and very very dark bars.
"The lights on backs of cars remind me of eyes. And the stuff all around them reminds me of eyeglasses. And the Tiburon has funky attachments...."
You visualize what would happen if you just disappeared instantly. You put your fingers in your ears to keep your brain from leaking out. You go to your happy place.
And at this point, I know I'm screwed. My genes are bankrupt of having any capacity to not make things go sour. If I speak, it's in incomprehensible utterances, of which she gets the main message, ultimately being, "Icepick me in the eyeball! Do it now! It's an eyeglass frame design. My opinion is valid for the 2 seconds it takes until I get distracted by thoughts of power tools or things with balls and violence. Then I forget about it until you make comparisons with flashy low end sports cars...which, by the way, arghhhhhhhh!" If I don't speak, then I may as well just be standoffish about how much I hate the glasses.
"Because the Tiburon is a Korean car, and it looks like the eyes are slanty"
I think I deemed it impossible to intentionally swallow my tongue in the next 5 seconds. The things you'd do for an on-demand seizure disorder sometimes...
But just like that, it was over. Your head's still a little light. You're not entirely sure if the coast is clear, so you play it cool for a couple mins, say something nice about [insert clothing item not related to article of current discussion here], and hope to God you don't see anymore slanty-lighted cars for the rest of the day. You then get several hour of normalcy. You rediscover everything wonderful about this person that you've chosen to spend your life with. You made it through your day with minimal casualties in this crazy crazy minefield many of us walk everyday.
Good Lord.
Women.
posted by jerm at 10:40
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