How I Got My Snark Back

Dear Weird Guy I Met At The Bar,

girl-1064666_6402I want you to know that, even though I wouldn’t give you my phone number or my real name, I’m so glad we met.  Not because you said you liked my hair; although that’s usually a solid move with a girl, I’d recommend against using the word “fetish” within the first half hour of conversation.  I appreciated the super-clear warning sign, don’t get me wrong, but maybe ease into that a little more slowly next time.  With someone other than me.  But that’s not why I’m glad we met.

It’s also not because we had a deep and meaningful conversation about the relevance of Eastern philosophies on contemporary Western living.  We might have, if you had been able to pronounce the words “Bhagavad Gita,” but even if your speech hadn’t been slurred from what you initially claimed was your third beer and eventually admitted was your seventh, I doubt we would have ended up discussing the theistic aspects of moksha.  Also, the “main dude” in the Bhagavad Gita is named Arjuna, not Arwen, and that’s still not why I’m glad we met.

I did get some entertainment out of listening to you try to convince me that you like doing yoga because you enjoy the female energy and that you never even notice the boobs of the women in your class.  It was especially amusing because, for the ten minutes before you gazed into my eyes and made that earnest declaration, you’d been addressing most of your intoxicated musings to my cleavage.  Not an original move, no, but the fact that you clearly had no idea you’d just been doing it gave it that special something so often missing from drunken ogling.  Well done, sir!  But that’s still not why I’m glad we met.

I’m glad we met because, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t just smile awkwardly while secretly snarking at you in my head.  This time my smile was one of real  enjoyment.  I don’t know whether I was responding to some quality in you or whether there was just magic in the air that night, but when I heard you talk about actualizing your inner tranquility,  I was finally able to give myself permission to snark out loud.  You can’t imagine how good it felt after denying myself for so long.  It was snark without shame, reckless and abandoned, and it was bliss.  You gave me the best night I’ve had in a long time.  You gave me my snark back.  I’m so glad we met.

And if I didn’t say it last night, thanks for buying me the drink I was nursing while I mocked you to your face.  It was delicious.

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Snarks and kisses,

The Little Blind Girl

 

[images in the public domain via pixabay.com]

 

 

Look! Elvis!

List of VeggieTales episodes

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I was out with my girlfriends celebrating a birthday among us.  The path to the restaurant took us past a favorite clothing store of mine, one I always beg my friends to go in, I promise I’m just going to look at socks, really I mean it this time, and then I inevitably veer off toward shoes and general apparel once I’ve gone through the socks.  To avoid being dragged out of the store by my friends, I’ll usually point and say something like “Look!  Elvis!” and then run off in the opposite direction while they’re looking for the King.  What gets me about that technique is not that it works despite the fact that Elvis is dead, it’s that it works repeatedly on the same people.

This time, my friend turned to me and said, “Can you feel the vacuum from the sock store pulling you in?”  And I could, I really could, but what struck me most about that remark was the idea of a store entirely devoted to socks.  If we had such a place in my hometown, I’m not sure I’d ever leave.  I love socks.  I own about four pairs of socks for every pair of shoes.  I talk to my socks when I’m picking out which pair to put on.  I have froggy ankle socks that say “Ribbit” and knee-high stripey socks and full-length argyle tights, and everything in between.  If I pass a store that sells socks, I have to go in.  I have a problem, I know it, and I’m never, ever seeking help.

During my friend’s birthday dinner we were talking about the usual:  boys, hair, what to post on my blog.  I would drift off every so often and start imagining a socks-only store that sold socks of every type and description.  I’d come back to myself and rejoin the conversation only to drift off again a few minutes later.  One of my friends guessed what I was daydreaming of and said, “If that’s what you’re fixated on, I guess there are worse things to obsess over.”  I immediately responded, “Like Johnny Depp.  Ooh!  Shopping for socks with Johnny Depp!”  One friend said, “Now that’s a blog post topic!”  Another friend replied, “That’s a therapy session!”

I like to think we’re all correct.  In my head, I’m shopping for socks with Johnny Depp right now, and it’s marvelous.  I’m sure my therapist will agree.

Rainbow striped toe socks worn with thong sandals

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Ask A Little Blind Girl

Old woman at desk, 1967

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Every so often, I’ll get people who ask me questions about what they should do in certain situations.  Why they think I’ll know is a question I’ve never gotten around to asking, because anyone who knows me knows that I’ll take any excuse to talk about anything at all, whether or not I know anything about it.  To that end, I’m launching what I hope will become a regular feature, Ask A Little Blind Girl.  Leave your question in the comments section of any post, and I’ll answer it in a future entry.  I’m starting out with some of the most common:

Dear Little Blind Girl:  I have the worst memory for faces.  Do you have any tips on how to have a conversation with someone who obviously recognizes you when you have no idea who they are?

–Clear Vision But Hazy Memory

Dear CVBHM:  I have this problem all the time, not because I can’t remember their faces, but because I can’t see them in the first place.  Over time, I’ll learn to recognize voices and other indicators, but in the meantime I’ve learned a few tips for carrying on a conversation with an apparantly close friend you can’t remember at all.

First, remember that people love to talk about themselves.  We so rarely get the chance to go on and on about ourselves that a simple “How are things going for you?” will get the person started on a long and hopefully rambling response that will give you more clues about who they are and, with luck, how they know you.

Lakhovsky: The Convesation; oil on panel (Бесе...

If you still haven’t placed the person by the time you’re called upon for a response, take the last thing the person said, reword it, and agree with it.  “That’s so true, a warm spell does always follow a cold snap.”  This will keep things going without actually requiring any substantive input from you.  Phrases like, “Tell me more about that,” and “I never knew that–how interesting” can keep the conversation going for a long time.

If they ask you about yourself, try to pick up on the phrasing of the question for clues on the connection you supposedly have.  “How is the meth lab disposal business going?” indicates that the person knows you through work.  “Did your nephews survive the separation surgery?” shows that the person knows you through your family.  If all else fails, just ask them what was going on the last time the two of you talked.  “Gosh, I’m not sure, were you around for the quadruple bypass?”  I’ve had successful lengthy conversations with people I still can’t place, and I’ve developed a reputation as a witty conversationalist to boot.

No matter what, if you say it with a smile, you’ll probably be fine.

Dear Little Blind Girl:  I’m interested in asking a member of the sex to which I’m attracted on a date.  Problem is, this person can’t see very well.  What should I do to make him/her/them more comfortable?  Does this mean they won’t notice if I don’t wear a tie/pantyhose/uncomfortable shoes?

–Short-Sighted Would-Be Suitor

Dear SSWBS:  First of all, it’s always a positive step that you’ve asked.  One of the best things you can do is simply be aware of the situation and pay attention.  If your date has bad vision and is about to walk into a glass door, you’ll score major points by heading off a major injury.  Don’t assume your blind date knows there are steps coming up if she’s actually blind.  Among other things, doing so will put a quick end to the date, and to any chance of future dates, especially if it’s a lengthy set of stairs.

English: A bunch of flowers Français : Un bouq...

I recommend not taking a date with vision problems on the traditional dinner and a movie.  That translates to dinner and a migraine, which means that you will forever be associated in your date’s mind with a headache–not something that’s going to play well for you later on down the line.  Try an outdoor concert or a wine tasting.  If you insist on a movie, art gallery, or other visually oriented date activity, be prepared to provide two to three hours of descriptive analysis mixed with insightful commentary and stand-up comedy.  I recommend the outdoor concert; it’s much less work.

Also, your date will know if you don’t put effort into your appearance.  That uncomfortable, stilted speech that you find in the beginning of a relationship comes from a tie you’re not used to wearing, heels that are a little higher than you’re used to, and so on.  It’s not fun, but it shows you care, and if you’re wearing your pajamas to a dinner date, your date will be able to tell even if he or she can’t see it, I promise you.

Always remember, just because your date is blind doesn’t mean all his or her senses are on the fritz:  flowers still smell pretty, chocolates still taste wonderful, wine still gets us drunk.  Happy hunting!  Er, dating.

Dear Little Blind Girl:  If you can’t see, how come you think Johnny Depp is hot?

–Skeptical In Schenectady

Dear SIS:  There is a hotness that transcends the merely visual.  It emanates from his being.  It is the aura of an aura, the glow of greatness, the sense that this person has been kissed by the gods.  Also, when I was younger and I could see, I fell instantly in love and then was blinded by his glory so that no rival could ever take his place.  My love for Johnny Depp is true and eternal.  Mock it at your peril.

Français : Johnny Depp à l'avant-première de P...