snakes in an office

So everyone on this here Interweb has been all a-twitter about Snakes on a Plane, the Samuel L. Jackson movie costarring the fat guy from Goodburger, a whole bunch of highly unrealistic-looking and hostile snakes, and yes, the already oft-quoted "I want these motherfucking snakes of the motherfucking plane!" He's such a badass.

I realize that every other blogger wrote about Snakes on a Plane months ago. They already had their ironic t-shirts and homemade parody trailers, and then they got over it. Where three months ago Snakes on a Plane was the height of semi-ironic hipster glee, now Snakes on a Plane backlash is the new cool thing. Therefore, I acknowledge that I am totally behind the curve and am not nearly so cool as everyone else. This is, of course, nothing new.

I note it here and now because the phrase "Snakes on a Plane" has become something of a staple for me over the last few months. The exact meaning is roughly equivalent to "c'est la vie," or more specifically, David Sedaris' definition of "c'est la vie," which goes something along the lines of "yes, monsieur, life is indeed a bucket of shit, but this is our bucket of shit." It's a lovely little Zen kind of mantra that makes frustrating or obnoxious situations far more tolerable.

"Can't take time off of work to go to Lollapalooza?"

"Snakes on a plane."

"Frighteningly low bank account and a week of nothing but pasta for dinner stretching ahead?"

"Snakes on a plane."

You get the picture.

All this is by way of mentioning that this morning my boss met me an intimidatingly high stack of documents, gratingly boring instructions and an apologetic look. As she sat them on my desk, I sighed "snakes on a plane."

She looked at me with incredible confusion, and I realized that to someone who doesn't spend way too much time on Kotte.org or the Gawker Media Empire, what I'd just said could not have sounded any stranger. I started to stammer out an explanation:

"Um- there's a movie with snakes-- Shaft is there... and--"

The look of confusion on her face was only getting more intense, and was now tinged with worry. I'm sure I sounded as though I was just randomly pulling words out of the air and giving voice to them. With great effort I stopped talking and exhaled.

"Sorry. I haven't had my coffee yet."

She backed out of my office with a look of almost maternal concern, and has been showering me with compliments and praise for even teeny accomplishments all day.

Snakes on a Plane... future B-movie, Zen mantra and winning strategy for professional development.