Why is it that, when I go to the mall with my debit card in hand, ready to be swiped, happily willing to drop a few bucks on a new eggplant-colored purse or a new pair of shoes or perhaps a nice new coat, the entire mall is completely void of anything I'd be willing to carry/wear/purchase?
And then, why is it that, when I can't find anything to spend my hard-earned money on, Billy can find a million things to buy for himself? Well, maybe not a million, but at least two or three things.
Why does my inability to find something I like, added to the fact that Billy bought two things equal me being mad? Does that even make sense?
Why does Billy not understand, when the movie starts at 3:10, and it is now 3:08, and our car is parked roughly eight thousand miles away, that now is not an appropriate time to "run out to the car" to drop his purchases off so that he doesn't have to sit in the theatre with them? Because he is going to miss the previews (and we love the previews). He may also miss the first minute or so of the movie. Oh, that's right! He did! While I sat in the theatre viciously defending the seat I'd saved for him. I can't tell you how many times I had to tell seat-seeking folks that I wasn't just using the seat to my left to hold my coat. It was actually for someone.
And why don't I go to the movies alone more often? My brief brush with solitude in that seat in the darkened theatre reminded me how awesome that is. I have to do it more often.
And why, even though I'm sure I've landed the most awesome seats in the house at the 3:10 showing of The Departed, do they wind up being possibly the worst?
Because why, Mr. Man Sitting Behind Me, did you have to eat those gummy bears with such ferocity? Why did you have to suck and slurp and chew and suckle so loudly that even people three rows ahead of me turned around to see where that god-awful noise was coming from? And why did you have to do that through the whole movie? That's just tacky.
And, what if those people three rows up thought that was me?
And, hey, Ms. Inappropriate Parenting Decision Maker in front of me, why did you bring your eight year old son to a movie about the mob? Because, if you're going to cover his eyes and ears in any part of a movie involving nudity, violence, guns, explicit language, etcetera, you could not have been surprised that all of the above would be taking place, at one point or another, in an R Rated movie about the MOB.
And why even bring that kid if he was only permitted to watch roughly .002% of the movie with eyes and ears uncovered?
And, damn, why was that movie so fucking good? I mean, my god, it has to be the best movie I've seen in a long while. Seriously. And why am I always so damn attracted to Leonardo DiCaprio when he's playing the conflicted-badass?
Why do I love sushi so much? And why is the sushi chef at our favorite restaurant so darn cute and nice? And why is it that I can easily understand his broken English, but Billy can't? But I can only understand him when I'm sober, which leads me to my next question:
Why did three glasses of Pinot Grigiot get me so drunk? Since when is my tolerance so low that I can no longer take the amount of alcohol that normally only gets me good and buzzed? Because, I assure you, there is nothing sexy about leaving the restaurant blissfully buzzed, but then running head-first into d-r-u-n-k the second you get into the car with your boyfriend. Nothing sexy at all, my friends.
So why did I have to drive the half hour home with my mouth and my eyes shut tight, window open, face in the wind? To avoid getting sick, that's why.
Is it because all I ate was what probably amounted to my weight in red clam sashimi?
And why, once I got home, did I have the presence of mind to remove only my pants before getting into bed? Because getting into bed and going to sleep was not an involuntary decision (i.e. "passing out"). No, it was a conscious decision, made to avoid the possibility of me getting sick and relieving myself of all the sushi I ate. And I can't have that, because if get sick and throw up all of that delicious sushi, there's a distinct possibility that that could scare me away from sushi forever. And that would be horrible. But why did I only take off my pants, and not my makeup, jewelry, sweater or socks? Oh, that's right. Because getting into bed and falling asleep before my stomach decided it'd had enough of this wine and sushi business was far more important than take off earrings.
And why, after all of that, did I wake up this morning feeling wonderful and, even more surprising, not just on time, but early? How did an evening of near illness-inducing debauchery make me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this fine Monday morning? Because that doesn't even make sense.
Oh, but you know what didn't make me feel so wonderful this morning? When Billy told me that, at one point during the evening, I allegedly rolled onto my back and started snoring so loudly that he had to turn up the volume on the TV to hear his program. He says he got up to get his phone to record my nocturnal noises to play back for me as proof, but I stopped as soon as he got up. I know. That's sexy.
Why did he have to tell me that? And how did I get lucky enough to find a boyfriend who loves me in spite of my alleged snoring? And why did I just tell all of you that little piece of info? Is it because I am the master of TMI? Yes, my friends, I believe that is the answer.