Monday, July 6, 2009

Oh Me Oh My, Back With a Vengeance

Guess who just got reminded that she has a blog and should be recording some of the crazy shit that's been happening? Yes, I admit, I've been a horrible blogger and I don't even have the blackblog-screen of death to blame this time around. Instead, I blame it on laziness and sheer complacency.

So dear friends, since I'm obsessed with words, let's to the dictionary:

Main Entry:
Inflected Form(s):
plural com·pla·cen·cies
1 : self-satisfaction especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies

Now, when I think of complacency, I see a cute little mouse on the forest floor, happily nibbling away at whatever the hell mice eat, fruit? Let's just say fruit. This is mouse is happy, she found her snack through the judicious use of her senses, through perseverance and luck. She's congratulating itself of a job well-done when
the snake that had been creeping up behind it strikes. The mouse doesn't have time to be scared, it's just shocked, amazed, a tad resigned and mostly annoyed that it wasn't allowed to finish it's last meal.

This story has two purposes:
1. This is the reason I don't feed my snake live mice. I can empathize with the mouse far easier than my snake.
2. This is a parable (albeit a bad one) for my recent topsy-turvy switcheroo-shenanigans. Ummm, I am the mouse.

Since this situation is long, complex and I'm at work (shhh.) I'm going to be general but details will eventually arise since I'm full of a new determination to keep this blog going. This blog is a perfect arena of introspection and could have served as the eyes in the back of my head, which would've saved that stupid mouse/me from this situation. Right? Because if the mouse could see the snake coming... (Wow, this analogy is getting worse)

Nesto = my hard-won, sweet, sweet fruit.
Again, I am the mouse.
One of the few men that made me cry in high school, let's name him Tom- the snake.

I finally get Nesto, I enjoy him immensely. I feel all butterflies-romance-giggles-orgasms. I'm behaving myself, minding my own damn business when I go to find a buddy of mine across the bar and he's in deep conversation with someone. I'm thinking, "awww, Ryan found a friend," as I slide into the booth across from them, look up and nearly lose my bottom jaw/bladder control.


It's the snake, Tom.

Wow, Tom was/is my ideal. Huger-than-huge crush on this man, lost to me forever through a woman I also thought was hot. Come home. Sitting across from me. Smiling.


The rest they say is history. I went on the prowl, caught me a Tom and now I'm in a pickle. But y'know what? This is the best pickle I've ever had, way better than Claussens, a muthafuckin' pickle sammich!

We'll see where this goes?

**Disclaimer: I am not using snake with any intention of conveying the traits of sneakiness, "slipperiness," or any other negative connotations. I happen to be a huge fan of snakes, both named Tom and otherwise.**

1 comment:

Irishembi said...

A pickle and Etta sandwich it sounds like to me!


Enjoy your sammich. :-)