Falling In Your Glass

Surely, if something plops its way into your glass it’s far more convenient than something falling into your lap? What if it’s of a distinctly liquid state or simply rather difficult to contain across a thigh based surface? The situation morphs into a definite disadvantage the very moment whatever it is spills all the way onto the floor and out of anything remotely useful.

Or maybe I’m just being pessimistic, discounting the various merits of certain longed for things falling straight into your lap. And then we’ll all remember, not in any remotely embarrassed fashion, that the notion of lap fallage is rather more metaphorical than literal. Even so, I can’t help but think that there are definite upsides to landing in a glass as opposed to anything else. Provided it’s a somewhat soft landing.

Just think about it, you could cannonball into a vat of something deliciously alcoholic. It would be thoroughly adorable, charming, the very embodiment of the whole manic pixie dreamgirl fetish and not remotely weird. I’m totally not over hyping or even romanticising the situation. There aren’t even any downsides as long as you pick a glass to fall into that holds a beverage of your choice be it expensive wine, delicious chocolate milk, an old fashioned or the tears of your collective enemies.

There is a faint problem that I’ve quite certainly only now just considered. If you manage to fall into a glass rather than into a lap, for you to fit there has to be something of a size disparity. Either you’re getting up close and personal with a giant of some description or an adversary’s broken out a shrink ray to wreak havoc with your dating life. There will be a hundred and one different ways to overcome these hardships but it seems like rather a lot of work. Better to emulate a particularly cosy cat and head for the lap.

Song choices courtesy of: Lifehouse and P!nk


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