While the Earth has been busy catching up on those 0.04327 seconds of daylight we miss during those pesky three years prior to election year (Super Tuesday is next week, folks), I've been busy putting up with stupidity of all manner. It's like the extra day in our calendar year decided to also us catch up on the never-lacking stupidity ratio; well, it was decided for me, anyway.
Would you like to hear about it?
Just nod and smile; it'll be over soon.
Reginald Kitty is not amused.
Yesterday, I went to the dentist for some fillings. It was an innocent thing to do; all I wanted was for the doctor to make my teefies stop hurting. Instead, my brain hurt.
I was called back, and taken to a private room at the end of the hall, where I was adorned with a fabulous little fluorescent green paper bib (which was of no use; my Up And Coming Tour shirt was soaking wet, because someone lost control of the water squirty thing).
As the nurse-lady took my blood pressure, she struck up a conversation; somehow, it got turned around to the upcoming Leap Day. This is sort of how it happened.
Lady: I was looking at the calendar the other day to see when Christmas was going to be this year, and it said it was on Wednesday. But last year, it was on Monday, so it threw me off, until I was all, 'oh, it must be leap year'!
Me:
Lady: Hey, do you know how often leap year happens? 'Cause I don't.
Me:
Umm. It happens every election year. That's a pretty good indicator.
Lady: Oh! I'll try to remember that!
Do I have to tell you who lost control of the water squirty thingy? Or who was responsible for me nearly choking to death on my own saliva right in the middle of a dental procedure because she refused to use the little spit-sucker tube thingy?
What about the email I got from my college? I mean, an institution of higher learning allowed this to be sent out. Read it, and try not to lose faith in humanity.
Subject: Officer Mister Dude
Officer Mister Dude's father passed away Monday evening!
His name was Man-Man Dude and his services are pending in Nowheresville, Oklahoma!
We will keep you updated on service arrangements!
Thanks everyone!
For those of you who are maybe a little rusty in the English language specs department, English is your second language, or maybe to feel a little better about my AP Language Arts standing, let me tell you folks something. Listen closely, now, everyone. You must not over-use exclamation marks! I had an entire workbook every year on proper use of the exclamation point. You cannot use them this way, people. If you read that email as it is written, instead of how it was intended (I'm assuming surprise), it sounds slightly morbid. Are you expecting a big fat inheritance from Man-Man Dude? Why should you be so excited he's dead?
I could understand if it was just a random email sent out to friends and family, but that wasn't the case; it was sent every-frickin-body, from a college.
My mother, the escapades of whom we've talked of extensively, had a Nanecdotes moment today.
There she was, flipping through some junk mail (you know, real paper, Thomas Brown shoved it through our government-property-but-we-still-paid-for-it-letterbox), saying random words from the selection of drivel. Here's how that went.
Mother: Pickle. Chicken. Cheese. Spice. Delicious.
Me: Delicious Spice! It sounds like a good name for a Spice Girl; 'hello, I'm Delicious Spice'. (This went on for a few a little while longer, so I'll skip that bit.)
Mother: Were you saying something?
Me: Well, what was I saying?
Mother: Something about the Old Spice guy?
Yes, mother, because this...
...is so easily mistaken for this...
If she hadn't been busy raising me in the 90's, I'd ask her where the hell she was for those ten years.
We're going. McFly!
After the sheer volume of stupid (excluding my mother), you would think I would be tired of laughing at all of it; well then, you thought wrongly, sir. I left my favorite stupid story for the very end.
Can you handle it?
WORDPLAY!
My dad's mother in in her mid-80s. I think old age is getting to her brainbucket, 'cause there is no other explanation for this.
She was talking about the Whitney Houston funeral thing, and she said -- well, read it.
Her: Those black people just scream and hollar, they don't sing. I don't like it.
Me: Billie Holiday was black.
Her: No, he wasn't. He was white.
Me: Billie Holiday was white?
Her: Yes! He was white!
Maybe we were talking about two different people named Billie Holiday? (Answer: No.)
This was the one I meant.
Like I say, she's old. At least, that's what I'm hoping for.
Well, there we have it, folks. Such an analysis proves that Leap Day makes people crazy, just like that episode of The Golden Girls told us.
I'm just going to take solace in the fact that this video exists, and crawl under the covers for the rest of the day.
Fun Fact: Ten years later, I will still fangirl Rupert Grint.
