The REAL me...

I ripped this from PointLess...

Merry Elfamas!!

Courtesy of: "The Right Reverend Rafael the Euphonious of Giggleswick under Table"

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Her Most Noble Lady Sydney the Mad of Wimblish upon Frognaze Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Addendum to Super-Smart

You know, I'm not, really. Recently I watched a program about Katie Morgan (porn star... and don't ask why. It was late, I was tired, and her atrocious boob job was mesmerizing) . There she sat, all nekkid tanned and porny, being interviewed about the "industry" and at the conclusion it was noted that Internet IQ tests (note: oh so scientific) gave her a score of 165. That's well into genius zone. But I imagine if you take enough of those little quizzlets (much like the afore-posted), you may realize that real IQ or smarts is not about test-taking*.

And consequently, some of the very smartest people I know are absolute morons - about some things, even most things relatively. Not to mention that there seems to be a connection between mental stability/emotional inconsistencies and genius. Just look at the artists, scientists, and achievers throughout history. They're busy making stuff, inventing stuff, revolutionizing stuff in between looney bin stints. Cutting off body parts, getting in arrears (or in the rear as the case may be), pissing off the Medici's or whatever ruling/banking class was footing the bill.

So, I guess it's all a matter of perspective. If you can do physics in your head but can't get your panties on frontwards, well where are ya then?? Not to say that frontwards facing panties are all the rage (got mine on inside out the other day**), but there is something to be said for not hitting your own head, with your own Jeep hatch, with your own arm-hand combo****.

*By the way - just polished off this semester with two perfect "A"'s and not in diminished subjects like "Remedial Pants Putting Oning,"*** but in International Finance and Entrepreneurship.

**as "inside out" as a micro-swatch of fabric can be

*** and people always use the "Underwater Basket Weaving" example here which I think would be damn challenging without gills or at least a papyrus reed that was long enough. Or maybe it's the irony...

**** What, as opposed to the spleen-follicle combo? Callete already, Güera!!

Omen Theory

I can control events with my mind. And not only future ones, but retroactively as well. I do it ALL the time.

Example:

About two weeks ago I was driving to the gym. Just as you "on-ramp" to the loop, you must navigate a bridge over a bitty man-made lakey thing. As I looked off to my right, over the bridge railing, and at the water (because that hurtling 2000lb piece of metal 'neath my ass doesn't need all that much concentration...), there were little pointy ripply thangies on the surface of the water. I was intrigued, so I looked longer. Obviously, immature Nessies taunting me. As I casually glanced back to the road spiralling out in front of me, I seemed a tad close to the guardrail barring me from the plunging edge of the bridge.

I corrected and rocketed on. But as I continued on my merry way, I visualized (this is the mind-control part), giving free reign to the possible outcomes that didn't happen, but could have, but were prevented, retroactively, by my giving them full expression in my wee brain after the fact. Got it?

Here's what might have happened: I looked out over the railing to see the ripply things and the Colonel (as my plum Jeep insists on being monikered) plunges through the guardrail, off the bridge and down into the coldy-cold little lakey water (slow-mo). As I watch the dark and oh-so-solid looking water stretch up to meet my oncoming SUV, I have time to completely and thoroughly assess the opciones. If I start unwinding (ooo and I have the auto down windowy option) the 'lectric window now, it will have time to roll down far enough to let pressure equalize so I can open door (window crank? I got your crank!!!). At same time I will craftily unlock doors before the nasty hard water shorts the modern convenience 'lectric system Now, all I have left to do is unbuckle the safety harness, extract face from airbag, exit through open window, and backstroke leisurely to bank and await rescuer-y folks. 'Cause I definitely would have had plenty of forethought as to be holding cellphone well out of watery grave, and of course passers-by would have seen my Jeep careen off the suddenly looming bridge. This could have been very, very bad... BUT...

Now, see... that didn't happen, couldn't have happened, and can't happen because I have given such free, unfettered, and complete imaginative expression to the drama so that it feels unto itself as if it has actually occurred as has given vent to it's fullness of bad thinginess. Hence, by letting bad things/omen/occurrences happen vividly in my peanut-sized brainpan, they cannot happen in reality to my peanut. (but don't tell them or the spell is broken...)

For the Aliens

Completely unrelated to what I was searching for, but ran across the following and, true to my thoughtful and generous nature, I thought I would save it for the aliens...

Ultra-precise probing made easy

So all you intergalatic probers, get your telepathy hats on and come on down for some probing made simple, efficient and easy.

I'll bring the lube!!

Left Toe and Revelations

Someone requested that I write something new. Now there's a bonk on the head. Didn't think anyone was really stopping by here, nor my blithering be something sought after (weird sentence but go with it -literary license and all). But perhaps I ascribe too much to a simple request.

More on the death theme, 'cause it's a jolly time o' year to contemplate our demise on the eve of a birth (or so the religious right would have us believe), and the overuse of apostrophes''''''''''. The parents of someone very close to me were killed, yes both of them, by a drunk driver. A mere mile from their home.* Went to the memorial which was attended by scads, nay pantloads, of folks. The flattery was astounding, and the lauds were thick.

In response, I've told friends, family, whomever will listen, that I do NOT want this sort of drivel when I die/pass on/pass out/snuff it/become/go all limpy/commune with the aliens. All this flummery and rattling on and on about what a delightful and amazing person I was during my life. How I affected the lives of so many. Nope, not me. If you couldn't say that stuff about/to me when I was alive then you are just lying, right there on that rug.

Please just to burn me up, do whatever with the ashes, and then drink heavily in a very sunny place, preferrably with beach. Or barring the burning, if we can arrange for me to be "recycled" that would be even better. Take me out to sea, throw me in, and wait for the sharks. I could eventually be shark poo! I'm probably much healthier fodder than what those wily sharks/fishies are eating now. I eat organically (nicely marbled), exercise regularly (plenty of muscle flesh to gnaw on), big ol' brain just bursting with fat and protein, and lovely hard bones to crack. And then have a big party with Eddie Izzard and laugh 'til your knees drop off.

Yea.. that sounds about right.


*isn't there some statistic that notes most accidents happen within 10 miles of your home**
** Steven Wright comments wryly that given that information, you should move