I Always Wanted to Say That

So as it turns out, I have this uncanny knack for remembering movie lines and reciting them within the context of everyday conversations. Sometimes they're extremely quotable lines and most any moron would recognize it. Sometimes they're so obscure that if it goes unrecognized, I don't bother to point out that what I've just said isn't actually an original thought. I figure, if you're not savvy enough to know I didn't come up with it, well then, chalk one point up on the board for me, baby. It's the same principle behind explaining the punchline of a joke...if I have to tell you I just performed an incredible feat of verbal gymnastics, it somehow deflates the whole concept and sucks the fun right out of it. You either get it, or you don't. There is no in between. In most cases this leaves people under the mistaken impression that I'm clever. Whether it's due to attributing movie lines to my own particular brand of wittiness or because they're impressed with my ability to work in a quote...well, that remains to be seen. In either case, it tickles me tremendously. But other than an inflation of my own sense of ego, it rarely amounts to anything.

Having said that, if you've seen the movie Lucky Number Slevin and you have a decent memory, then this little anecdote might be somewhat meaningful to you. If not, well then, like the book shop owner in my little story here, the significance will be completely lost on you (sorry about that).

So the other day I was on a hunt for one of the Stephanie Plum novels (which I'm currently re-reading, see side bar) and in an effort to save time, I decided to call a few used book stores to shop around first. I got lucky on my first call and had the store set the book aside and told the dude I'd come by to get it some time that day.

As promised, I showed up to the store a few hours later and the proprietor was chatting with a customer. Since I knew he already had my book behind the counter and their conversation seemed deeper than a simple inquiry, I thought I'd browse in another section for a bit instead of immediately interrupting. But that got boring after about 30 seconds, so I reconsidered and decided that interrupting was the way to go. Really, I just wanted to get my hot little hands on the next Plum book and get on with it (I'm in the middle of a series here people!). Turns out a little meaningful lingering near their conversation did the trick and, as expected, the store-owner asked me if I needed any help.

"Oh, yes, umm, I'm the one who called earlier about the Stephanie Plum book...." I said.

"Oh, that was you?" He said with a smirk, "You sounded much taller on the phone."

I smiled to myself, already knowing the perfect response, and without missing a beat I said, "Well, I'm short for my height."

A tickled sense of satisfaction bloomed in my belly. I didn't think I would ever be set up so perfectly as to use that one in a real, on-the-fly conversation. I was quite pleased with myself for coming up with it and delivering it right on cue. I felt like I'd just passed a pop quiz with flying colors. I was beaming. It really gives you a comforting sense of satisfaction to discover you're prepared.

Too bad it was wasted on an overweight, mid-50s, slightly creepy bookstore owner in downtown Kent who has no idea I've just pulled one over on him, instead of some hunky stud with rock hard abs and dreamy eyes who immediately recognizes the quote and gives me a slightly surprised yet intriguing look. Sigh. No, no. That would be the beginning of some adorable chance meeting in a romantic comedy. This is just my crummy real life.

At least I got to use a Lucy Liu line though. That was pretty cool. And the book store dude things I'm funny...so that's a something.