I'm... *clears throat anxiously*...er, not...really...in love with anybody...
Well, at least not a person. No, I'm afraid my infatuation with Rolando Villazon was brief, and it's over now. I've moved on to inanimate objects. (I'm talking really inanimate, here.)
I'm, uh, in love with...a mountain.
Here's a transcript of an earlier conversation I had with my parents:
***********************************************************
"Yes, Mom & Dad, Mt {name not revealed for security purposes} and I are IN LOVE, and you can DISAPPROVE all you want, but we're going to RUN AWAY. Or rather, I'm going to run away. To the mountain. And live there happily with all the birds and the saplings and the squirrels. Yes. So I am."
"But Lizardbreath, how will Mt. {something or other} support you? Can you possibly be happy living in the wilderness with the birds and the saplings and the squirrels?"
"Yes. I can LIVE ON LOVE ALONE. And so I shall. 'Cause the squirrels certainly won't be sharing anything..."
"But Lizardbreath, you won't possibly be able to have children. How can we turn you into the grandchild-producing daughter we always dreamed of?"
"The trees and the flowers will be my children, Mom and Dad. And if those aren't enough, we'll adopt an elk...(what is a baby elk called?)...an elk child. Yes. Preferably one that is half child and half elk. So it can eat grass. And also make cute cooing noises."
***********************************************************
Okay. That's enough of that. Ick. Cheesy.
Um, and I really am sorry to get everyone's hopes up. I'm really not in love at the moment. It really is that I was just reminded of being in love by that thing I couldn't remember, that I talked about in that one post. Previously.
But, if I am in love, and if I do decide to run away to that unnamed mountain, surely...surely, you all, my very good friends, will not disapprove...........????????????
Oh, and here's a picture of him. Er, it, I suppose. If I were to fall in love with the mountain, I don't think I could pick a better one.
***Urg! A pic will have to be inserted later. Looks like the Blogger Picture Inserter is down. Blah.***
***Edit: Okay--Apparently it was just THAT ONE IMAGE that Blogger was having a problem with. Whyyyyyyy???? (She asked whinily.) Anyway. I guess this one will do. It's a nice shot, even if it is about a year old. I guess he/it hasn't changed that much since then, though.***
8 comments:
Consistency is a good thing in a relationship, and I suppose you can't get much more consistent than a mountain. Mount St Helens, of course, is an exception, but he doesn't seem like your type, anyway, Beth.
Come to think of it, how do you tell a boy mountain from a girl mountain? Do you go by name, composition, topographical features, or just the general vibe you get from him or her?
Oh, general vibe, definitely. Mt. (can't reveal the name here) is kind of craggy. And green-covered. Which is WAAAY totally male. Yeah.
Um, and Mt. St Helens & I did try to make it work, but...that sudden erupting...I just couldn't deal. So, I decided to settle down with a nice stable mountain. One with lots of trees. And small animals. And, um, green. Things. Bushes?
The problem with falling in love with mountains (..well...A problem...) is that they have a tendency to blow up and kill a bunch of people. It can be really bad. Are you sure you're prepared to live with the knowledge that your boy...mountain-friend...was responsible for the death of 1000s of people? At least men...while seemingly less reliable...are easy to spot when they're crazy and want to kill people. With mountains, you never know....
Stick to men Beth. Staying up till 2:30 with them is way more fun that staying up with a mountain. How would you discuss world events? Mountains can't even talk!...Hmmm, maybe that's a good thing. I'll think about this some more.
*GASP* I recognize that mountain! That two-timing son of a tectonic plate! (pardon my language, Beth)
Now that you mention it, Libby, I think he may have asked me out once, too, back when I was living in the Thunder Pagoda (ask Cathy about that one). I gave him some lame excuse about needing to wash my hair (spineless of me, I know), but the truth is I just don't do craggy. Makes for a really rough relationship.
Yeah...problem. Mt. Lovey Dovey just blew up on all of us again. Mr St. Helens is all steamed up about something and blowing smoke. What a loser.
Bad temper AND he smokes. To big red flags right there.
I think it's odd anyway that his name is Mt. St. Helens. I mean, Helen is a girl's name, right? Or maybe adding the 's' at the end makes it all masculine. It's like Geoffry vs. Geoffrina. Except that I've never met anyone named Geoffrina. I bet she wears a wig. I don't know why, but I bet she does.
Post a Comment