I’m sure I’m not alone in saying that I have friends who are snobs. Though the term carries with it a negative connotation, when used in reference to my circle of friends, I feel it is a term of endearment. (Not unlike my inability to control my mouth.)
Arguably the most snobby are the music snobs. Several of my friends are musicians by trade, and therefore know everything there is to know about music. Not just certain genres of music. They know EVERYTHING. Get them in a group together and bring up the time you saw band X at Y venue, and they’ll jump at the chance to either praise your musical genius or pick apart your taste like a festering carcass. They’ll have something to say about both your Bob Dylan records and your collection of obscure showtunes. (I’m looking at you, “Batboy.”)
And then there are the book snobs. They’ve read every book by every author known to man and have analyzed and scrutinized them all down to the very last paragraph. You may think you know the meaning behind “Wuthering Heights” by Bronte, but trust me (and my book snob friends.) You probably don’t. And forget even mentioning the Bronte sisters when referencing literature. So tenth grade.
And then the art snobs. Those who can stroll around an art gallery and think to themselves, “Rubbish.” It’ll look like a pretty picture, and you may admire it for a minute, but the art snob will swoop in when noticing your interest and say something along the lines of, “Oh the contour and the color and the this and the that, so sloppy.” Come on. It’s just a bunch of pictures of fruit and naked people. What is there to criticize, honestly?
Then there are the math and science snobs. I’d try to give you an example, but I’m too right-brained to even begin to get it. When math and science snobs open their mouth and snob it up, I shut off. Sure, it’s interesting. I guess. But the airflow above my head doesn’t sink in enough for me to grasp whatever it is they try and convince me of. Sure, that equation makes sense. Whatever you say, snob.
Oh and how could I ever forget the health/fitness snobs? As a twentysomething journalist living off of a laughably low wage (as well as my pastor husband’s earnings) it is extremely difficult to afford healthier food. I’d love to be a health/fitness snob. I would. But I can’t bring myself to do more than run three or four times a week coupled with putting together whatever food items are in the kitchen at present. No my meal doesn’t contain more than three food groups. No I’m not losing weight. Yes I “only” run two miles at a time. But! At 4:30am on January 10th, you can find me in my bed as opposed to two miles deep into a twelve mile morning run in 16 degree weather.
I brought up the topic of snobs not to poke fun at them. (Okay, maybe a little.) But mostly, I want to be a snob. Painfully. I want to be that person there for when you open your mouth to voice an opinion about something to effortlessly crush it beneath my infinite knowledge on the subject. Looking at my life and demeanor, I feel like I really can’t say I’m a snob about anything. Which I guess some would argue means that I’m not passionate enough about anything, or that I don’t commit to anything, or that I’m vanilla, or whatever. I brought this up with my husband, and he claims I’m a news snob. However I call foul and say that’s an extremely generic cop out. Of course I know everything about what’s going on in the world. I get paid to do that. Knowing everything about everything is my bread and butter.
Also, if you get your news from the ABC affiliate in Tallahassee or by reading the paper, you WILL be misinformed. Just saying.
Where was I? Oh yes.
I want to be a snob about something.