The other night, Bio-Girl and I were talking about boys. She and I both have a long litany of relationships in our lives that go something like this: girl dates boy. Boy freaks out and breaks up with girl. Girl goes on with her life. Boy shows up at some point later on (oftentimes years later on) and proclaims that girl was the love of his life. Girl, by now totally over it, shrugs and says tough breaks kid. More years go by. Repeat.
And now, I give you, the genius that is Biology Girl.
Her: I've got the perfect metaphor to illustrate this situation.
Me: Give it to me.
Her: It's like, Jack (the ex) is walking down the street. And all of a sudden, a piece of trash, like a piece of paper, blows right into his face. Of course he's going to want to get it off of him. It's trash! In this scenario, I'M the trash.
Me: I thought this was supposed to be an uplifting metaphor.
Her: I'm not finished.
Me: So far, you have cast yourself in the role of "a piece of trash."
Her: I'm not finished! So, Jack gets the paper off of him, and it begins to blow away. As he looks at it flying away, he notices that this piece of trash is actually A WINNING LOTTERY TICKET. D'oh! So of course he's going to regret that he thought it was regular trash. See? He's going to run after the trash. He's going to regret not picking up that piece of trash for the rest of his life.
Me: I see what you're saying. But still. Trash?
Her: But see, you and me, we're valuable trash.
Pause.
Her: Ok, I've got a better one.
Me: Thank god.
Her: It's like this. Our ex-boyfriends are like deer. So you've got this deer, and there's a car coming toward him. He looks up, he is in the path of the car! It's deer in headlights! He has to freak out and run away!
Me: Wait a second. Are we the CAR in this situation?
Her: Yes.
Me: We're the car? The car??? Driving at the deer?
Her: But what the deer doesn't realize until later is that we're not driving at him to run him over. We're driving at him to pick him up. We just want to give him a ride, drive along with him, that's all.
Me: So...we're a deer taxi?
Her: YES. We're a nice deer taxi. Only he just hasn't realized that, until it's too late, and we've driven by, and we're gone. So he's left, running after the taxi, trying to hail it.
Me: How does a deer hail a taxi, anyway?
Her: With his antlers, of course.
Of course.
There's a reason why she's getting her doctorate before reaching 30, folks. I think I've demonstrated why.
Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Oh Deer.
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6 comments:
LOl that's great. I think I like the trash one the best.
Most of the girls I date are trash.
But then I suppose that's what I get for meeting most of my girlfriends through 1-800-hot-chat. Or through craigslist. Or being setup through my mother, who occasionally works at a garbage pick-up women. Tuesdays and Thursdays, those are her trash pick-up dates. Mark your calendars, ladies.
Wow. It even makes MORE sense seeing it all written down like that. Pure genius if I do say so myself!
it's been 2 years since I got one of those calls. if he calls again, i'm so going to say tough luck, you missed your deer taxi.
Love. The. Analogies. I changed cell phone numbers two years ago, partly due to laziness and partly to rid myself of those calls. Why do people do that?
I usually hate writing LOL but jeez, LOL. Biology Girl is indeed a wise woman.
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