I went to the doctor recently for a yearly check-up. First of all, I learned I was 1 and 1/4 inch taller than I thought I was. Now my driver’s license has a big fat lie on it and there’s been so many things I thought I couldn’t reach and didn’t bother to try, now only to find out I should have.
That was the GOOD news to come of the appointment. I also figured I’d kill two doctor appointments with one stone and get my stupid pap smear over with. Yay! The mention of a pap smear! Trust me, I’m right there with you. But, the two things I heard the doctor mutter that day were so hilarious and horrific that they warrant documentation. Sparing you every detail, I present, the two things any woman who takes herself too seriously should hear:
1. “I can’t find your uterus.”
2. “I’m going to need some assistance.” (Gets up and cracks the door) “AMANDA! Could you come in here please?”
After Amanda arrived, with a flashlight, I guess, the doctor then completed the following SAT analogy question:
The Holy Grail : The Fountain of Youth ::
a. wallet : money
b. car : television
c. keys : uterus
Whether to have kids is a much discussed topic in our household. One of my concerns is that I don’t feel like an adult. I still feel like a kid – I don’t know how the world works, I’m not responsible enough (and don’t do enough adult-y things like know how the stock market works), I like the freedom to watch all the violent R-rated movies I want to, and so on.
I’ve “grown” to realize that most people either don’t feel like adults, are actually irresponsible/crazy/just shouldn’t be a parent, or are an adult but still don’t have all their adult bases covered like I expect myself to. “Adult bases covered” sounds like some term from the Hays Code, but I assure you I don’t mean public indecency.
Like most things in my life – I have used Pop Culture to help me understand where I’m at as a person.
We saw Super 8 when it came out this year. It’s about a group of adolescent kids trying to solve a mystery/avoid being eaten about/by an alien. Additionally, one of my favorite movies is The Goonies – it came out when I was roughly 8 years old – which is about a group of adolescent kids trying to find a pirate’s treasure/not be ruthlessly murdered by a trio of ex-cons.
As I was watching Super 8, I was hit with the strangest sensation: I’m not reacting to this movie, which has the same general theme and plot, as I do to The Goonies.**
These are my feelings while watching The Goonies:
You play that skeleton piano until you make it to the treasure or someone gets impaled, there’s a neighborhood at stake!Don’t go up Troy’s bucket to ensure your safety and let your parents know they don’t need to release an Amber Alert, it’s your time, your time down there! Your parents don’t understand! Obviously y’all battling homicidal maniacs for a pirate treasure is the only viable option to preserve your happy childhoods!Wow, that’s so great that Chunk, an 11 year old boy, offered up his parents’ home and life to a giant, mentally handicapped man-child.
In summary: I identify with the kids. I now know the reason for that is because I saw this movie for the first time when I was a kid, because watching Super 8 was very different:
That girl stole her father’s car? Oh dear, she must come from a troubled home. I hope she doesn’t wreck it because the insurance premiums will go through the roof.What in the fuck are these parents’ deals? They are setting horrible examples and emotionally neglecting their children. I certainly hope they come around to understand how great their kids are and get themselves together.You turn around right now, go back to that gym, and find a goddamn doctor! And, many, many other instances of “Be careful;” “That’s not your responsibility, or, shouldn’t be;” and “Oh, babies, it’ll be better once you get out of high school.”
So, if I end up with a kid, I can tell them that a movie about One-Eye Willie’s booty and a movie about a bunch of teens making a zombie movie had something to do with their existence.
**I understand that E.T. is the blueprint for Super 8, but I’ve only seen that movie once, when I was 5 years old. But, I’m sure the identification with/concern for dichotomy exists there as well.
Technically, I’m a geek. Nerds do well in school. However, the candy called Nerds exists. I love Nerds. Especially the little boxes you get around Halloween. Probably because it reminds me of Halloween.
Other than Pixie Stix and that dipping powder, this is the closest thing to standing over the jar and shoveling sugar in your mouth.
Whenever I eat Nerds, my husband points at me and calls me a cannibal. He does the same when I eat shrimp, as I am short. The title Cannibalistic Nerd got in my head and I couldn’t shake it, and thought it sounded better than Cannibalistic Shrimp, and was a better description for me and what I’d probably write about.
And isn’t that kind of what nerds and geeks do? Obsess over what we like and devour it over and over again? And the line between you and the things you like gets blurrier and blurrier, etc.? No? Fine, I’m sticking with the name, though.
In reading up on starting a blog, one of the things is that you’re supposed to have a niche. I actually do have a niche blog – one of the nichiest blogs one could hope for.
I’m thinking, I can go more niche – maybe a blog of nothing but pictures of straw wrappers I compulsively knot when at restaurants.
If they are really long I fold them in half, first.
