Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Monday, August 27, 2012

A Truth Universally Acknowledged Pt. 5

"So I'm picking up the pieces, now where to begin?
The hardest part of ending is starting again."
                                - Waiting for the End by Linkin Park

Love sucks.

Well, at times it is true, and you know it. We always try to paint the loveliest picture of roses, moonlight, and happily ever after... and sometimes, it just doesn't work.

Sometimes love isn't rosy, or moonlight-y, or happy. Sometimes, it just plain sucks.

And I'm not just referring to romantic love - this particular post encapsulates all the many different forms of love: friendly love, romantic love, brotherly love, family love... and so forth.

There are so many different ways of loving someone that it can drive you insane. The key to keeping your sanity is honesty.

Honesty speaks truth to us. Sometimes it tell us to shape up and act right, sometimes it tells others to shape up and act right. Listening closely to honesty can have rewarding results - your behavior alters, their behavior alters, lines of communication are restored, whatever. It's all well and good and happy ever after. Good for you.

Unfortunately, honesty can also break apart a relationship that's season has passed: the parent who can't reconcile with their child, the lovers who have grown apart, or the friend who wants more than the other.

You simply need the courage to hear the things you really don't want to. Those heartbreaking times when honesty tells us that, as much as we love the other person, we need to love ourselves and walk away.

It is times like those that love truly sucks. We plug our ears and go "Na na na na na" like we did when we were twelve, hoping honesty will shut up and go away.


But it doesn't matter. Whether we choose to hear or not, honesty speaks.

Are you listening?


Cheers,
MP

Sunday, August 12, 2012

A Sound Beating...

Hello, my followers! At very, very, very long last, I have a story for you.

Unfortunately for me, it is, once again... about me.

[facepalm]

Apparently I have angered the Trickster for neglecting to tell his tales. For that, he soundly punished me. It is an amusing tale, so I'll get to it.


One day last week, my sister invited me to go to the gym with her. I decided to be good. It was an off day.

Be that as it may, I went. However, she was going to an "on-your-feet-dance-like-a-fool" workout class. I normally love this type of class. Unfortunately, my gym shoes are quite worn out, and I didn't want to risk making my feet hurt again [they had been giving me problems, and my new shoes hadn't been delivered yet - still haven't, now that I think of it... I digress].

My solution to the problem was simple. Swim! Our gym has, not one, but TWO pools. One for swimming laps, the other for Physical Therapy. And there's NEVER anyone in BOTH pools, right? Nah. [Are you sensing this bit is important? Because it is]

So we go to the gym, my sister goes in to her OYFDLAF workout class, and I head to the pool. There is a guy swimming laps in the big pool. Me, being the considerate person I am, decided to let him have the three lanes all to himself and go to the smaller, PT pool. [Aren't I just self-cons-- I mean, kind and generous?]

No sooner had I dipped into the enticingly warm water than the lovely lady who runs the front desk walks past the big windows that separate this particular pool from the PT area. Crap.

Apparently there's some rule about not swimming in the smaller pool by yourself. And there's NEVER anyone in BOTH pools, right? Nah. [Don't you just love the subtle irony? The very reason I came to this pool is the very reason I can't... oh, you got it? Good. Just checking...)

So I decide that I shall simply have to swim in the lap pool... with the young guy... *gulp*

Well, I didn't actually have to. By the time I got out of the smaller pool and headed toward the bigger one, there was another guy in the three lane pool swimming laps. An older guy. Now, it's a three-lane pool, which means there should have been room for me to swim, but, well.... guys don't share space with each other well. They have this stupid insistence on being as far away from each other as possible. That translates into, I would have had to swim in the center lane.

HOLD IT. All stop. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm self-conscious and didn't want to swim between two guys. Yes, this is true. But, I wasn't going to let that keep me from swimming. Nope, not at all. What kept me from swimming is the fact that I can't swim straight to save my life. If I can hug the wall, I'm fine. But since the guys had both of the outside lanes, that wasn't an option. And I wasn't about to risk bumping into the young guy because, hello... that could be taken as flirting O.o

And I didn't want to bump into the old guy because.... ew.

Anyway, so I retreat back to the ladies locker room, hoping that one of them will leave soon. After all, I had over an hour until my sister got out of her workout class. They couldn't stay the entire time, right? Right??

>.<

Yes, they stayed the whole time.

But I was SO GOOD (like I said, it was an off day)! I didn't let it bother me - deciding to find it funny, I texted two friends and told them the tale. One of them expressed the appropriate sympathy, and the other laughed congenially at my predicament. Brat.

Lo, and behold! My bratty friend was not entirely a brat. See, we have this picture of a particularly hot guy that we text back and forth when we're having particularly bad days. So just when I'm wondering why she hasn't sent the picture, my phone beeps.

"New Picture Message!"

Glee ensues.

Until my brand new phone gets stuck in a perpetual "Receiving Message" loop that I can't break. For an hour and a half. That's right. I'm already home and dressed from my very interesting trip to the gym before my Dad takes the battery out of my phone and helps me reboot it.

I found out later that was the picture she'd sent. Sweet girl.

Helluva day.


Cheers,
MP

Monday, July 30, 2012

Because I have procrastinated yet again...

... you get another update.

So, I lost my groove with this blog.

I know, right? Hard to catch that.

Anyway.

I decided to get it back. I re-read all previous posts to see what I did differently.

Here's a novel idea: I enjoyed writing them.

I didn't worry about punctuation, grammar, capitalization, spelling, or even sounding SUPER cheesy [which did happen on occasion, I'm not ashamed to admit]. I just wrote, and had fun with it.

Now, let's see if we can do that again! Are you with me?

Cool.

I'll see you next week.

Cheers,
MP

Monday, April 16, 2012

Another Update

My drafts are back!!

Apparently it just took them a bit to make the jump.

So I am back to writing and should have another Trickster post up by the end of the week!

Thank you for your patience....



Cheers,
MP

Friday, March 30, 2012

Update!!

So, there has been a slight change. The owner of this blog is still me. I am still the amazingly awesome and trickiest tricky of the trickies [that sounds SO CLOSE to trekkie... which makes it doubly awesome....]

[AHEM]

Aaaaanyway, I had to switch over accounts because... Dun dun DUN... my other one was hacked!!

Some jackass was emailing me [as myself, I might add] saying things like "you really shouldn't leave your account open" blah freakin' blah...

Jerk.

SO. New account. New username [instead of Magical Program, I am the Unlikely Author... which I rather like...].

However, the magicalprogram@gmail.com account is still valid as it was/is separate from the hacked account, so you may keep sending your stories to that email to your heart's delight.

[GASP]

SPEAKING of stories, I have epic news! I have had a lovely young lady submit to me a story, and I am working on getting it all ready for publication in just a few days.

I wouldn't expect it to be too terribly soon as I am taking a trip in a few days, but know it is in the works!

[Note: it would have been done this weekend, except in the mad rush to switch over the account before I lost my mind, my drafts were all lost... lovely]

So that is my epic, very Tricksteresque news. Even though it may LOOK like the blog has changed hands, it has not. I was hacked. But I fixed their wagon. It only took 3 hours of hurried and desperate switching of emails and accounts and deleting things and....

Cheers,
TUA?

Yeah, um, no....

I think, for this blog, it shall remain "MP"

Just because I can.

Cheers,
MP

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

A Truth Universally Acknowledged Pt. 4

You know, as a single person, I am constantly aware of my lack of a significant other: TV shows, music, movies, my friends, textbooks, parents, etc... everywhere you look, there is a couple or some other signifier of romance to remind me of my singleness.


Don't get me wrong, though. As a single person, I have many freedoms: I choose where I live, what I do, who I hang out with... the list goes on and on.


And, perhaps as a reaction to the overwhelming pressures put upon singles to "find the one" and settle down, people like to remind me of these freedoms.

 
However, this becomes a problem when it seems like the people who most often remind me of these benefits are 1. married, 2. engaged, or 3. in a serious relationship of some sort.


Bear in mind, I am NOT referring to parents in this matter. That's an entirely different ball of wax; for the discussion at hand, they (and other married relatives) get a pass.


As for my all of my dear, sweet, loving friends... STFU.


Not only are you not being helpful, you are not being truthful, either.


If being in a relationship is such a raw deal, why are you still with your dearest love?



This romance business is so passé



Oh wait, I forgot... it's because they are your dearest love.

 
Word.


Let's just assume, then, that when they say "Oh, you're better off single" what they are really saying is "I don't know what to say, but I want to be encouraging".


I know you are simply trying to make me feel better, and I respect that.


Just try to respect the fact that you are failing. Miserably.


Because you clearly don't think that I'm better off single, the statement comes across as hypocritical, patronizing, and serves as yet another reminder that I am somehow (in the eyes of society) incomplete and unfulfilled.


But you know what? My world isn't going to end if I stay single forever... because a single life can be just as complete, fulfilling, and joyous as a married one.


The trick is for singles not to buy into society's BS that you have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy and take ahold of the opportunities that the single life presents.


It will certainly help if you don't remind us of your blessings daily.



Cheers,
MP

Saturday, March 10, 2012

No Words Needed.

Really? Really and truly??


Do I even need words? I don't think so...

Cheers,
A seriously geeked out MP

Good Evening.... Infidel

So, to make up for not blogging in.... *coughmumblesplutter*.... weeks, I shall post a brief entry on my recent experience.

I got to see Jeff Dunham live.


Word.


For those of you not familiar with Jeff Dunham, let me sum up.... he's a middle aged loser who plays with dolls [his words, not mine].

He is actually quite the talented ventriloquist and comedian, and I went to see his live show just a few short weeks ago.

We literally laughed ourselves sick [none of us could talk more than a few words at a time the next day]... to say that he was freakin' funny would be quite the understatement. Add in to the mix that he's fairly good looking [though he doesn't hold a candle to British ventriloquist Paul Zerdin] and you've got one hell an evening.

Now, even though it would have been quite Trickster to do so, I did not record any of it because that is highly illegal, and I feared the wrath of the copyright gods... so here is a link to a past performance featuring Achmed, the Dead Terrorist.

Enjoy.


Cheers,
MP

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Two Little Tricksters...

When tradition persists, take A New Approach.

Cheers,
MP

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A Plea.

Trickster told me to start the blog, I did. He told me to ask for reader stories, I did. He told me to post often, I do. I have been a faithful lackey and followed aaaaall of his directions....

And yet... he still keeps picking on me.

I know why it is. There is only one cause of such a thing. The blog must be kept up, and the posts must keep coming...

And no one is sending me material.... and it has to come from somewhere....

Therefore, until I start getting new submission again, Trickster is going to continue to pick on me so that I have something to write about. Isn't he a kind master?

I have only had one reader submission to date. The only conclusion I can reach is that people just aren't experiencing the Trickster.

Because, let's face it... if people HAD Trickster tales to share, they wouldn't just leave me to bear all the responsibility myself. Right?

...

So, if on the off-chance you HAVE had a brush with the Trickster, and are simply too shy to share... please, I beg of you, send it to me! Dig deep! Spare me! Save me!

Because if you don't, more crap like what's to follow will continue to reign down upon me....


The Scene:

5:15 AM yesterday morning. I awake naturally.

This is not unusual - I often wake at this ungodly hour. Something about being a biological (though definitely not mental) morning person or whatnot.

Anyway.

I realized I had a whole big ton [yes, a big ton - significantly bigger than just a regular ol' ton] of stuff to do today, so I decided to stay up and get started.

I had it all planned out: Be done with homework by 5:45, shower at 6:00, be ready to leave and proctor my friend's class at 9:00.

I stayed up. I read my class material. I showered. I did all of these things....

... and then fell back asleep.

I awoke (for the second time that day) about 15 minutes after I was supposed to be at my friend's classroom.

After much rushing, cursing, throwing things, swearing, fumbling, and articulating my displeasure in colorful terms... I made it to the classroom.

Not surprisingly, all the little children had left already.

More tears. More curses. More wishing there was someone else to have Trickster pick on them.

Telling her was the worst part.

Because I was too much of a wuss to call, I texted her instead.

She texted back: "Call if ya can".

Well, THAT certainly did a lot of good.

So I call her.

And she is an angel. She tells me not to worry about it, things happen, we're still friends [at that point I don't think I broke into tears, but don't quote me on it].

However, the next day [and I deserved this] I was peppered with jokes about punctuality and the ENTIRE department now knows the story of how I botched the assignment. Including my favorite professor [whom I have been pestering for several years now about... well... everything].

While it's all in good fun, and I'm enjoying the laughs at my expense [Lord knows I've made fun of enough people to justify it]... I'm not sure I will be able to hold up under another Trickster beating.

So, you see, if you enjoy this blog and would like to see it continue... please get me some material to work with...

... or at least send me a damned alarm clock.

Cheers,
MP

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Let's be Honest with Each Other...

The Scene:

11:00 PM, yesterday evening. I'm finished with an assignment that I'm fairly confident about, I've studied for an exam that I have to take in my second class, and I'm feeling very rested as I curl up beneath my covers and drift into a peaceful sleep.

The Trickster smiled on me as I slumbered... with a certain maniacal glee that could only mean one thing.

Tomorrow was going to suck.

My alarm went off at 6:00 AM, and I awoke feeling refreshed. So refreshed, in fact, that rather than hit the snooze, I turned the alarm off and began getting out of bed. I foolishly reached for my spectacles.

[Foolishly? What foolishly, you ask? How can one foolishly reach for one's spectacles? Perhaps this isn't fair. Perhaps I foolishly leave my spectacles on the other side of my bed, so in reaching for them, I happen to stretch out across my bed... foolishly.]

Yeah, I fell back asleep. I intended to leave the house at 6:50. I woke up at 6:51.

I was out the door at 6:59:47 [Oh yeah, I was counting seconds at that point]

Anyway, I made it to class on time, so I felt somewhat better.

This feeling dissipated very quickly after my first class.

My major exam, in short, was a fail. Hardly a damn thing we studied was on the actual test, and the two questions we were required to answer did not fall into the realm of the "damn things we studied".

I started crying.

Yeah, not pretty.

After that, though, I recovered fairly well. I remembered more than I thought I did, and I was able to make at least a solid, passing grade [I can hope, anyways...]

And then I reached the final question.

I had no clue. None at all. A question worth a fourth of my major exam grade, and I have no idea.

Frantically, I search my brain for anything remotely resembling an answer.

I come up blank.

In a moment of desperation, my pen is poised to press onto the paper the most eloquent, vague, and impressive sounding garbage I can muster.

However, at the last minute, I stop.

Considering the fact that this professor has had 15+ years of education, 40+ years of teaching, and 60+ years of life experience... I can be fairly confident his hyperbole detector will go off in full force within seconds of eyeing my "Well, it can be said with a fairly certain level of plausibility that..."

This ain't happenin'.

It's Thursday. It's cold outside. We're ALL tired of exams at this point.

So, I wrote the following eulogy:

"The meaning of XYZ eludes my memory. I would make a guess, but I don't want to make you read eloquent BS this close to the weekend"

Feeling liberated, I turned in my exam and picked up my other assignment that he was handing back.

The inscription [next to the insufferably low grade] was as follows:

"You can do much better than this!"

...


....

And not a single damn was given.


Cheers,
MP

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Good on ya, Mate.

Sometimes, we get too caught up in the whole rat race that we lose sight of the things that are truly important. Money isn't the only thing that matters, and this guy seems to have that figured out.


Read about it here: Alex Day Snubs a Record Deal


From one Whovian to another: Good on ya, mate.


Cheers,
MP

Friday, February 10, 2012

Trickster Tag

You know, a lot of times we have to actively look for Trickster's presence - you wouldn't think he'd just put a stamp on an event that says "Trickster was here".


...







Well... except on occasion. Very rare.



Cheers,
MP

Friday, February 3, 2012

A Truth Universally Acknowledged Pt. 3

There is a problem we all run into in our relationship journeys - a problem I have termed "The Advice Conundrum".

It happens to all of us. We are so completely twitterpated, terrified, transfixed, and turned around that we don't know which way is up.

So we end up having advice [solicited or not] heaped upon us from all of our friends, coworkers, parents, siblings, grandparents, pastors, teachers... you get the idea.

This would be a wonderful help... if people didn't invariably give conflicting advice.

"You should ask him out!"... "You should let him come to you"... "Guys are dense, they don't know when a girl likes them!"... "If he's interested enough, he'll make it his business to know if you're available or not"

And so forth, and so on.

This overflow of paradoxical ideas makes following advice hard to do, whether we wish to or not.

So what's the cure? Well, since you clearly can't listen to everyone... ignore them all.

Granted, some things are obvious and should not be ignored: don't be overeager, don't be too closed off, don't paint a huge sign saying "I LOVE YOU GEORGE" and hang it on your front door.

But these are things you can already guess at and are probably trying to do; but they are also hard to gauge [especially that last one; I never know whether to use pink or purple paint...]

Best advice I can give [because that's not ironic at all] is to be sensible, get to know the guy, and if you feel like you want to know what's going on... ask him.

Claim you are confused [which is almost always the absolute truth], and ask for clarification. Ask him if he has any sort of interest in you. If he's worth having, he'll give you an answer.

Last bit of advice... be prepared for that answer to be "No".

Cheers,
MP

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Takin' It Easy

Let me preface this by giving you a scenario.

So let's say you've been reading my blog for a while now... you like the concept, you like (some of) my posts... [at least, I hope you do, else you're just coming back to see if I'm still embarrassing myself in front of my readership of 3]...

Anyway, you're reading along one day, and you stumble across a particular story that reminds you of something that happened to you recently... or three years ago... or in a dream that a friend of yours had and told you about.

Now, here's where the scenario gets shaky... what if... [and I know this is a crazy idea]... you sent me a little email at magicalprogram@gmail.com and told me about it?

Because, you see, the funny thing about a blog based on funny stories is... you need funny stories.

And as much as I love telling stories of my own [or making something up], it does get bothersome after a while.

So, next time you read one of my stories [like the one that's about to follow... HA! Gotcha! This isn't just a shameless plug!]... think about one you can send me!

And now, for the story!


It was a dark, stormy night...

[hold up, HOLD UP.... not EVERY story has to have a dark, stoooormy night with lots of eeriness and crap]

Yes it does!

[No, it doesn't]

YES, it DOES!

[...]

...

[...]

::blink::

[HAHAHA! You lose!]

...

You suck.

Fine, it was a clear, sunny day with rainbows and unicorns and all manner of chirpy woodland creatures. Is that better?

[Much ::smug::]

::ignore::

Anyway, a young man [whom we'll call 'Don'] had been given a rather difficult task at his brand new job. Being a very diligent worker and eager to prove himself in his new place of labor, he applied himself to the mountainous task placed before him.

For hours he labored, focusing all of his efforts and energies on this one task.

Finally, after working uninterrupted in his side office almost all day, he completed his task!

The young man was ecstatic. He leaped from his chair and threw his arms in the air, doing a very Caucasian-style dance --

[please tell me he gets caught doing this... that would be epic]

No. Now, as I was saying...

[Is the job not really finished? I mean, there has got to be something else to this story. Trickster doesn't help people impress their bosses on their first day of work. It just doesn't happen.]

The job is done, he's completed his work. Now if you'll just let me...

[Abducted by aliens??]

WILL YOU LET ME TELL THE STORY??


[...]


Thank you.

Now, the young man became so pleased with his accomplishment that he sat himself down in his chair and took a long, deep breath and drank in the smell of victory.

He became so overcome by his self-satisfaction that he threw his feet up on his desk and placed his hands behind his head.

At that moment, while he was basking in the relaxation of a job well done [and on his own ALL DAY, he might add smugly], he saw the boss stick his head in and say, "Hey, Don! How's it going?"

Oops.

[Bet that gave a mighty good impression]

Yeah, no kidding.


Cheers,
MP

Monday, January 23, 2012

A Truth Universally Acknowledged Pt. 2

"I hand you a quarter. You get to choose to hang on to it or to risk it. Risk is $5,000 or $0. What will you choose?" 
- On pursuing a relationship

This is a quote from a good friend of mine that I found to be very effective in illustrating the very simple equation presented to us every time we wish to pursue a relationship. It may not seem like it at the time, but the truth is that we have little to lose whenever we decide to get to know a person better.

So why do we fear it so?

As a woman, I'll deal with this from the female perspective [as best I can - again, I'm not speaking for half the planet's population, just delving into some possibilities]...

"It's hard to find that fine line between giving off a 'I'm romantically available for the right person at the right time' and 'Come and take me, baby!!' "
- Pretty self-explanatory

Women are faced with a difficult situation in today's dating world. Whereas before there were straightforward guidelines as to how a relationship commenced (re: boy asks girl out), now there are none.

Sure, the typical "boy asks girl out" still happens, and quite a bit; but for those of us that it doesn't happen to, what then? Are we supposed to throw in the towel and resign ourselves to a lifetime of singlehood [not necessarily a bad thing... if that's what you want]? Is that really our only option?

I certainly hope not. I don't get on well with cats...

So, what should we do about this? Should we place all of the blame/responsibility on the men, and hope they start noticing us; should we say, "To hell with tradition, I want a man and I don't care if I have to slap him to get his attention!"; or should we go with something in the middle?

I'm not entirely sure...

... more on that later.


Cheers,
MP

Friday, January 20, 2012

Mistaken Identity

Today, I was sitting in the parking lot of the grocery store, minding my own business. Texting away on my cellphone, I had a stranger walk up to my window [which was rolled down at the time] and greet me like an old friend.

Due in part to the fact that I am a very outgoing soul [and also in part to the fact that I was completely engrossed in the scintillating conversation on my mobile device], I did not even realize that this should have been odd. I just responded [equally friendly] and settled in for a chat.

After a few moments [during which he asked if I was still dating Otis... whom I have never met], I realized that this was a case of mistaken identity [Oh, look! There's the title of the post!].

This is the point where a nice, sane, normal person would have politely corrected him.

I, on the other hand, decided to have fun with this. I informed him that I was no longer dating Otis and had no plans to do so ever again [his face went from utter shock to mild consternation... a fact which I noted with glee].

After a few minutes of conversation, he had to leave, saying he had to go to work. Incidentally, he turned to go into the very grocery store I was in the parking lot of [where he apparently works... and I sincerely hope Otis does, too...]

Cheers,
MP

Monday, January 9, 2012

A Truth Universally Acknowledged

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife" 
- Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

We had an interesting discussion in class today [at least, it was today when I started writing this post. It has now been upwards of two months. Ha.].

Prompted by Simmel’s theories on flirtation, it quickly spun into a discussion of our views on modern flirtation. The remark was made that “girls don’t want to date nice guys; they want the bad boy”. 

Cue my head hitting my desk. 

This is a concept I’ve never understood; I’m not arguing the point, mind you, I’ve seen it too many times to dismiss it: the clean-cut boy who brings you flowers and makes your parents smile is rejected in favor of the truant who drives a motorcycle when he bothers to come to class.

Is this exaggerated? Yes, of course it is. Does it prove my point? Yes, it does.

Now, let me just say, not all girls are like this. This is not an epidemic of stupidity that has affected the mind of every female on the planet. There are girls [like myself] who understand that the “bad boys” are just immature adolescents who have some growing up to do, and that's not what we want for ourselves. 

Oddly enough, even though there is an alleged multitude of “nice guys” who are rejected daily [and thereby single], we can't seem to find any who want to date us
 
What's up with that?

It’s because guys don't want nice girls, either. Again, I’m not saying that it’s every guy everywhere, but it is common enough to be a problem. With the availability of hook ups, a lot of guys aren't motivated to cultivate relationships and take the time necessary to get to know a nice girl.

So we’ve identified a problem. Where do we go from here? Many people would say the logical next step is to try and fix the problem. Dating sites for like-minded people, setting your friends up with people who have similar values, and other such methods of dating are what typically follow. 

These are good solutions… for the individual. However, not everyone has good luck on eHarmony or friends with enough sense to pair them with a good match.

How do we solve this problem as a whole? How do we even begin to tackle such a massive cultural shift? First, we have to identify the cause.

WAIT! Don’t leave! I haven’t reinvented the wheel or solved world hunger just yet. I don’t have the meaning of life, either. I don’t even claim to have solved the entire problem at hand; what I do claim to have done is to have possibly stumbled upon at least one major contributing issue: conflicting expectations.

Now, get ready for another exaggeration. Women get their romantic expectations from romance novels, men get their romantic expectations from porn.

Again, every woman isn’t an air-headed romantic with visions of a white picket fence and June Cleaver lifestyle, and not all men are just in it for sex… but that, to varying degrees, seems to be a recurring pattern in today's society.
To be continued...
[OK, now you can go. Just be sure to check back if you want to hear more brilliant thoughts...]

Sunday, January 1, 2012

A Truly Trickster Tale

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictionalized account of an actual happening. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, and some facts have been added to make the story more dramatic. No animals were harmed in the writing of this blog post.

OK, now that the stupid legal stuff is out of the way, let’s get to the fun part! Remember that girl I told you about, Lucy? Here is her story! Oh, and I graciously grant you the privilege of ignoring the fact that this post is exactly one week late. How magnanimous.

[Anyway, movin' on. My comments will be contained in brackets. Like these! --> ]


Our story begins… with a wedding; [YES!! My favorite subject! ]

Or, rather, before the wedding [Eh… not as exciting; but still cool]...

...more specifically, dress shopping [ -_-  OK, seriously, this had better pick up soon…].

The Scene:
It is a cold, ominous winter night. There is no sun to light the gloomy outside as the wind howls through the bare, bent trees. Our heroine [victim?] is a young woman we’ll call “Lucy”.

Lucy is the maid of honor in the wedding of her best friend. [see? I told you there’d be a wedding]. We’ll call the best friend “Zilla” [Oooh, now things are getting’ good!]

At the time of our story's beginning, everyone was asleep. Everyone, that is, except Lucy. She awoke at 3 AM to the sound of Beethoven’s 5th on her cell phone. Oh no… she thought… it’s Zilla. What now?

Then she remembered.

Dress shopping today!!!! [eeeew! I’m already feeling sorry for Lucy…]

She groaned inwardly at the perky message as she looked distastefully at the phone in her hands. Deciding to dare the wrath later, she switched off her phone and curled back up under her warm covers, determined to sleep until a more reasonable hour. Zilla could just wait. [good for her!!]

Not three seconds later, the house phone began going off. [there is no way…]

About two minutes later, her mother came plodding down the hall. [yes way]

The footsteps stopped. There was a knock at the door.

Lucy got up and opened it, shaking her head and making manic “I’m not here” signs all the while.

[smart girl; maybe Mom will pick up on your subtle hints that you aren’t available to talk to the twit]

“Oh good, honey, you’re awake. It’s for you!”

[Great. Thanks Mom.]

She put the phone to her ear and flinched as a rapid torrent of inane and slightly manic drivel came pouring out before she got a chance to say hello. Something about a fabulous day and a bit about lace [no lace, madam, I beg you!] in there somewhere.

She wasn’t quite sure due to falling asleep with her bubbly BFF chattering in her ear. [did you ever consider pre-recording unintelligible grunts of acquiescence and half-hearted indications of interest? Because honestly, that’s all this girl seems to need…]

Zilla wanted to be picked up at 7:00 that morning, as her appointment with [insert ritzy-and-rather-snobbish-wedding-dresserie’s name here] was at 10:00 AM.

[Wait… she wants to be picked up at 7:00… when her appointment is at 10:00… and her chauffe--- I mean, maid of honor – got a max of 3 hours of sleep? How very thoughtful…]

The day improved from there. Nothing eventful happened in the three hours between picking up Zilla and going to R&RSWD [ritzy-and-rather-snobbish-wedding-dresserie… now get that puzzled look off your face. I just thought the acronym would be easier]

After arriving at R&RSWD and having seen the undersides of eleventy-something upturned noses, Zilla was ushered into the back and Lucy finally relaxed. Now she could just sit whilst her friend tried on dress... after dress... after dress...

Sitting back, the lack of sleep finally hit her, and she went into a vegetative state [if you like to talk to tomatoes, if a squash can make you smile.... NO! Not that kind of vegetable. We are not twelve.]

Little did our long-suffering heroine know was that things were not going as planned in the back of the store. Zilla was getting her sweet on with the R&RSWD staff because she had forgotten to make an appointment.

She was oozing generosity and agreeableness from every pore, hoping to get in today because Oh my WORD, she would simply fall apaht if she couldn't hayave a dress from R&RSWD. They ah the ONLY store in town she would consider bah-ing her dress from! It just would make her weddin' that much less speshul.

[If you didn't hear Scarlet O'Hara in there somewhere, go back and read it again]

After a moment of sweet reprieve for Lucy, Zilla re-entered the front of the store, happy as a clam at her newly acquired appointment.

When Lucy finally startled into a state of consciousness, she looked at the clock and realized it was 10:20.

It is still unclear whether Lucy was too zoned to hear the appointment update from Zilla, or if it was never mentioned; regardless of how it came about, Lucy, knowing of Zilla's dislike of unpunctuality [it is a word NOW], decided to do something about the tardiness of the famed dress designer.

[Uh oh...]

She took a deep breath....

[Hey, uh... Luce?]

...straightened her shoulders...

[What are you planning on doing??]

... marched right up to a nearby employee...

[I CAN'T WATCH!!]

... and politely asked if there was anyone nearby who could help them as their appointment had been at 10:00 AM.

[NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO -- wait. Huh. I guess that's not too bad. Maybe I should try reading these things all the way through before I blog about them]

Zilla, who had heretofore been admiring herself in her compact mirror, snapped her head around and looked at Lucy with a look of utter shock.

"I can't believe you just did that"

[Wait... what? She just asked if there was someone who could help. It's not like she smacked him upside the head with her purse, demanding to see the manager. What's up with this chick??]

Turns out, the nearby employee was not an employee. It was the R&RSWD's head designer, coming to help them at long last.

[O.o... like I said, I'll read ahead next time...]


This is where our story ends. I don't know if the fitting went well, if there was a fitting, or if the R&RSWD designer teamed up with Zilla to throw Lucy out of the store like worn out tulle...

All I know are the facts I've just relayed to you.

Oh.... and Happy New Year.

Cheers,
MP