Monday, May 11, 2009

"Record Collection": Code for "Penis" Since 1976

(Someday I will tell you the story of why I think John Cusack is responsible for the downfall of humanity, but not today.)

Excerpt from a recent conversation:

Dude: Are you going to Lollapalooza this year?

Robyn: Probably only if my roommate can get me in for free. I do kind of feel importantly about the Lou Reed, though- just because I've never seen him and what if he dies before that happens? I'd feel pretty guilty.

Dude: Cool, Cool. (He continues talking about music, some show he went to at the Empty Bottle where the band wasn't as good as the last time he saw them, as I nod my head, fog out and try to not let my face look glazed. The only reason people have conversations about music that go on for more than five minutes is so they can tell you how cool they are. Unless they're talking about Schopenhauer. I can get down with that- at least sometimes you can learn things from overly pretentious people. I cannot bring myself to care about how cool anyone is.). So, you should like, come over and see my record collection.

Robyn: Do you think I'm new?

Dude: Huh?

Robyn: That's such a cliche, I can't believe you actually said that- out loud, in a room full of people.

Dude: What did I say?

Robyn: "(in man voice) So, do you like, wanna come over and see my record collection?" Seriously, why didn't you just check my tag to see if I was made in heaven? Or better yet, ask me if I washed my pants with Windex. Gee, I'm tired, I bet it's because I've been running through your mind all day.

Dude: You're crazy, girl.

Robyn: Sure I am. But I'm not retarded enough to think that "record collection" isn't code for "penis."

You know, it occurs to me that people have been told they're special and unique so much that they don't realize that they're being giant walking cliches. I'm probably not an exception. We are all giant walking cliches to someone. I just hope I don't like, say things that are overly cliched. At least when I'm not at work.

I also think I might hate innuendo sometimes. Just come out with it already. Say what you mean. If you want me to come over and see your penis, then by all means, ask. I'll probably turn you down, but ask the question you mean to ask. Don't pretend like you actually want me to come over and spend an hour going "Oh... that's nice.... haven't heard that before..." or whatever actually looking at your record collection would entail. If that is actually what you want me to do, then you're definitely kind of a weirdo. I have way cooler stuff than you do, I'll bet. I don't invite anyone to look at it though. "Hey dude, do you want to see my collection of mannequin heads?" however, might be kind of an awesome pick up line... and definitely not a cliche.

The mating dance, however, is usually a barrage of cliches- dudes who tell you your eyes look like two limpid pools and shit like that. Ok, maybe not limpid pools- but you know what I'm saying here. It bores me. Compliments bore me. Talking about sports, or music, or other non-stimulating subjects bores the living crap out of me. You might as well talk to me about your favorite color, or what scent of Febreeze you most prefer. I end up being a jerk sometimes just so I can try and get them riled up enough to say something interesting or clever to me. It does not always work out the way I plan. Is that a cliche? Probably. To someone.


soozey said...

You are a breath of fresh air. That's a dumb expression but the first I thought of. why doesnt this blog have thousands of comments??

~sublimealice~ said...

^ i thought the same thing. you're great.