Good gravy. How am I so exhausted every Sunday night lately? I’m old, that’s how. I had a great weekend, and as usual, it’s over too quickly. One surprising change was that Geo had an unusual amount of input of my goings on this weekend. I dismissed many of his ideas, ‘cause I’m stubborn like that, but like a broken clock, he happened to be right a couple times.
Geo Says: On Friday night, “Let’s go play Settlers of Catan at KG’s house tonight.“ I say, “No thanks. Last weekend, I spent a night playing the nerdy, albeit very fun, game, but two weekends in a row? I have a reputation to think about, yo.“ So instead of risking my very cool, very social reputation by going with him on Friday night, I stayed in and watched a movie in sweatpants with my dear friend, Pinot Noir. Is that better? I sure think so.
Geo Says: On Saturday morning, “I’m going to go hang out outside and be the dog handler for KG at his skijoring race. Wanna come?” I say, “Skijoring? WTF is that?” Skijoring consists of harnessing oneself to a dog, whilst wearing skis (the person, not the dog) and racing for over 5 miles while the dog pulls you along in the freezing cold. I say “Outside? It’s cold out, though!” Geo says, “It’ll be fun, though!” I politely decline and proceed to paint my nails and watch TV with my other roommate Sanna instead.
Geo Says: Later on Saturday, I list my Wii on Craigslist. While I have a LOT of fun playing Wii when there are a ton of games to switch between (like my parents have), I’m just not married to mine. Plus, I want an Xbox Kinect. Really Pharon? Trading one gaming system for another? Ugh…you‘re such a nerd. Anyway, Geo says I should list it at a higher price and then be prepared to negotiate. I actually listened to him on this one. I have yet to have any takers, though. I’m guessing there aren’t as many suckers out there as I had hoped. But I guess it doesn’t hurt to try.
Geo Says: On Saturday night, “Let’s go to a movie. Also, maybe you should take a shower.” I say “I feel sick”. Geo says, “It’s all in your head.” I decide to take a shower, and it actually makes me feel much better. I ask Geo what movie he wants to see, and he says “How about No Strings Attached?” I say, “Uh, that’s a chick flick rom-com. Why do you want to see that?” Then I remembered that Geo ALSO wanted to see Black Swan, which is very unlike him. But I put two and two together and figured out that Geo loves Natalie Portman (Hahahaha! I just asked Geo if it was okay to say that he loves Natalie Portman, and he’s all “Yeah it‘s fine. I do. I love her.” with the kind of reverence I save for my adoration of Kate Spade. Then he goes, “Ugh, she‘s ENGAGED? Bummer.” and I think he‘s legitimately sad about it). We go to the movie, and while I’m not the least bit surprised by the plot, I AM surprised at how much I actually liked it. I laughed out loud way too much, and too loudly, much to the annoyance of my fellow moviegoers. It was just, well, it was just what I needed. It ended happily and it didn’t make my brain hurt from having to THINK. I don’t recommend rom-coms too often, because most of the time I don’t think it‘s worth the $24 to see it on the big screen. But this one? I will tell you to go see it. Go see it in sweatpants on a freezing cold night, with zero expectations, and after a stressful day. You’ll like it. Just don’t EXPECT to like it. What? Does that make sense? Whatever.
Geo Says: On Sunday morning, Geo announces he is going skijoring himself. I say he’s obsessed. He says “You’re obsessed with hanging out with your family.” I consider this for a minute, and decide he’s actually totally right on that one. I can’t go much more than a week without seeing at least ONE member of my family. But they are awesome, and today my mom and I had planned a fun little birthday party for Peter and Prinna. We pulled out all my parents Wii games (See? I TOLD you it was fun if you have a bunch of games) and had a big ol’ gamer tournament. My family is fun, and my mom always makes way too much yummy food, so I leave full and happy. And okay, I broke one of my New Year’s Resolutions - to NOT do laundry at my parents anymore - but I knew I was going to be there all day, and I am down to my last 3 pairs of mismatched socks. But okay, I actually AM totally obsessed with my family. He got that right.
Geo Says: Tonight, Geo asks me if I want to go out and get some ice cream and run to the grocery store. I silently pointed to my sweatpants and my full tummy, and he just sighed. But this time, HE followed MY lead. He plopped down on the couch next to me and keeps asking me what my blog is about tonight. I say: It’s about everything you’ve said to me this weekend. He looks at me quizzically and asks “What did I say?” Oh Geo, what didn’t you say?
Showing posts with label Nerd Alert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nerd Alert. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Evil Eye
Wednesdays. Geez, it feels like every single week there’s a Wednesday. But, you know what? It’s nearly over, which means the week is almost over, which means the weekend is almost here. I can almost see Saturday from here. ALMOST. I’ll bet it’d be a lot clearer if I had better vision. (Oof, that transition was rough. Even for me. Gimme a break…it‘s Wednesday for crying outloud.) At any rate, I was at work this afternoon when my contact just straight up fell out of my eye. Bloop! Right there onto the floor. Luckily, I found it right away, because I would have most certainly been ruined for the rest of the day with just one working retina. How limiting! Geez, if my contact fell out while, I don’t know, driving, I’d have to pull over or drive with one eye shut. Whoops! There goes my depth perception!
I have suuuuper bad eye sight, and I’ve worn glasses since 5th grade. I. Loved. My. Glasses. They had giant round lenses, rimmed in a gold tortoise shell. They were Nickelodean brand. I used the little spray and cloth that came with my glasses to clean them compulsively. During my yearbook pictures in 6th grade, the photographer made me take off my glasses because there was a glare. When I got my yearbook, I looked at my picture and was horrified. By that time I was so used to seeing my face framed by the giant gold rims, that I felt like I looked like I was missing my eyes altogether. So I took out a pen and drew the glasses on myself. I ruined the picture, and thus, the only photographic evidence that I attended 6th grade.
Then, sometime around 8th grade, my mom must have looked at me, with my big silver braces and gold ginormous glasses, and thought, “Well, you just look ridiculous.” She took me to get contacts. Yay! Contacts! Or so I thought. I have a disgustingly vivid memory of that first eye exam. In order to test the amount of natural tears I could produce (you need tears for contacts, FYI), they took these pH strip-looking pieces of paper and slipped one INTO the corners of each of my eyes. I sat there and waited for the test to be done, closing my eyes with paper sticking out of them, and thinking “This is torture. This is ridiculous. How am I going to ever put things in my eyes after this?!” Needless to say, I had enough tears. Well, duh! I was ACTUALLY CRYING because those paper things hurt so bad. (If ANYONE ELSE had to go through this, please TELL ME! Everyone is convinced this is a “false memory”, but I remember it like it happened 20 minutes ago.)
These days, you’ll probably never see me with glasses. My contacts are every bit a part of me as my finger nails. I never take them out. And by “never”, I mean “NEVER”. I sleep with them in. It’s a really bad habit I got into in college. Waking up and not being able to see the alarm clock frequently resulted in many missed classes, so I learned to just sleep with my contacts in. People with 20/20 vision will never understand the panic and frustration of waking up and not being able to see past your own hand. So now I sleep with my contacts in my eyes rather than in their little case where they belong. Apparently, though, you’re supposed to take them out because when you sleep your eyeballs roll back in your head, making it very easy to lose a contact inside your brain. (Does it help you read minds? No.) But it’s never happened to me, so why fix something that ain’t broke?
Okay, I’m not the greatest at taking care of my contacts. But today when my contact fell out, I gave in and thought “Well this is a sign that I might need to go back to glasses.” Unfortunately, the glasses I have NOW are not exactly the bomb Nickelodean frames I used to drool over. I love the look of them…they are thick, black rectangular frames, but because I have a child-sized head and my glasses are made for ADULTS, they just slip off my head anytime I look down. Not exactly ideal (Eye-deal? Oooh, dumb. Sorry.)
But now my eyes are watering - either because I’m tired or because I’m having flashbacks to the Paper Strip in the Eye Nightmare - so, I’m gonna go attempt to take out my contacts and go to sleep. I just hope no one breaks in in the middle of the night…I won’t be able to see them and will probably mistake them for a roommate and just go back off to sleep. I wouldn't exactly make a suitable eye witness...
I have suuuuper bad eye sight, and I’ve worn glasses since 5th grade. I. Loved. My. Glasses. They had giant round lenses, rimmed in a gold tortoise shell. They were Nickelodean brand. I used the little spray and cloth that came with my glasses to clean them compulsively. During my yearbook pictures in 6th grade, the photographer made me take off my glasses because there was a glare. When I got my yearbook, I looked at my picture and was horrified. By that time I was so used to seeing my face framed by the giant gold rims, that I felt like I looked like I was missing my eyes altogether. So I took out a pen and drew the glasses on myself. I ruined the picture, and thus, the only photographic evidence that I attended 6th grade.
Then, sometime around 8th grade, my mom must have looked at me, with my big silver braces and gold ginormous glasses, and thought, “Well, you just look ridiculous.” She took me to get contacts. Yay! Contacts! Or so I thought. I have a disgustingly vivid memory of that first eye exam. In order to test the amount of natural tears I could produce (you need tears for contacts, FYI), they took these pH strip-looking pieces of paper and slipped one INTO the corners of each of my eyes. I sat there and waited for the test to be done, closing my eyes with paper sticking out of them, and thinking “This is torture. This is ridiculous. How am I going to ever put things in my eyes after this?!” Needless to say, I had enough tears. Well, duh! I was ACTUALLY CRYING because those paper things hurt so bad. (If ANYONE ELSE had to go through this, please TELL ME! Everyone is convinced this is a “false memory”, but I remember it like it happened 20 minutes ago.)
These days, you’ll probably never see me with glasses. My contacts are every bit a part of me as my finger nails. I never take them out. And by “never”, I mean “NEVER”. I sleep with them in. It’s a really bad habit I got into in college. Waking up and not being able to see the alarm clock frequently resulted in many missed classes, so I learned to just sleep with my contacts in. People with 20/20 vision will never understand the panic and frustration of waking up and not being able to see past your own hand. So now I sleep with my contacts in my eyes rather than in their little case where they belong. Apparently, though, you’re supposed to take them out because when you sleep your eyeballs roll back in your head, making it very easy to lose a contact inside your brain. (Does it help you read minds? No.) But it’s never happened to me, so why fix something that ain’t broke?
Okay, I’m not the greatest at taking care of my contacts. But today when my contact fell out, I gave in and thought “Well this is a sign that I might need to go back to glasses.” Unfortunately, the glasses I have NOW are not exactly the bomb Nickelodean frames I used to drool over. I love the look of them…they are thick, black rectangular frames, but because I have a child-sized head and my glasses are made for ADULTS, they just slip off my head anytime I look down. Not exactly ideal (Eye-deal? Oooh, dumb. Sorry.)
But now my eyes are watering - either because I’m tired or because I’m having flashbacks to the Paper Strip in the Eye Nightmare - so, I’m gonna go attempt to take out my contacts and go to sleep. I just hope no one breaks in in the middle of the night…I won’t be able to see them and will probably mistake them for a roommate and just go back off to sleep. I wouldn't exactly make a suitable eye witness...
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
A Classic Phraud
Book Club tonight, kids. So far we've read some really great books in our fun little club. We scour Book Club and Bestseller lists for new titles, and with only a couple exceptions, they've all been great. Have you guys noticed the amount of Book Lists going around? Like the top 10 autobiographies, or the top 10 books about canker sores or whatever? It must be the time of year. They're everywhere. BUT: The one that really flips the script on me is the list of The Top 50 Books You Should Have Read By Now. (Or some variation of that...)
I've got a confession to make. Those lists? The ones that gauge how smart you are based on the books you've read? Yeah - I lie. And I lie big time. I'm all "Oh, Little Women? I've seen the animated MOVIE and I'm sure the book is the same. CHECK!" Or "Okay, Huck Finn. I'm SURE I must have read that in middle school. Do I remember any of it? Not really, but I'm pretty sure I would have at least skimmed it at some point. CHECK!" By the time I finish those mini life tests, I've read darn near the entire Presidential Library.
But I'm an ENGLISH major, people. Me not having read a certain amount of "classics" is like a Scientist never having read about the atom. Or a model never having made herself throw up. It just goes against nature.
Yes, I have read tons of great books. I really love reading, and there's RARELY a time when I'm not in the middle of a great book. I've actually never read a book in its entirety that I didn't like. And while I've read Ayn Rand and very much enjoyed it, I definitely fell asleep while reading Animal Farm and never picked it up again.
I am a fraud, you guys. I lie about the amount and quality of books I've read. I took an entire class in college on Shakespeare, and yet I still can't admit that I never read The Catcher in the Rye. I know who Holden Caulfield is because of the movie The Good Girl starring the illustrious Jennifer Aniston. But I've read The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists. It's a nonfiction book about one dude who is living amongst a group of other dudes who live to pick up women. You know what you guys? I LIKED IT. I liked it more than 90% of the books I read in college.
What does this mean, you guys? I studied Literature and Shakespeare and Greek mythology at a Big Ten school. And yet I prefer the juicy, sexy, racy, vulgar, and irreverent voice of my own generation. What does that make me? I'll tell you what it makes me: a fraud. I reference classic literature as if I've read it cover to cover 10 times, when in reality it's because I either saw the movie, or there was a reference to said classic literature in Family Guy.
Well, there it is people. My Dirty Laundry. Aired out for all of you to enjoy. I'm a big fat liar who prefers Vogue to Jane Austen. Just do me a solid and don't tell anyone though, okay? Cool.
I've got a confession to make. Those lists? The ones that gauge how smart you are based on the books you've read? Yeah - I lie. And I lie big time. I'm all "Oh, Little Women? I've seen the animated MOVIE and I'm sure the book is the same. CHECK!" Or "Okay, Huck Finn. I'm SURE I must have read that in middle school. Do I remember any of it? Not really, but I'm pretty sure I would have at least skimmed it at some point. CHECK!" By the time I finish those mini life tests, I've read darn near the entire Presidential Library.
But I'm an ENGLISH major, people. Me not having read a certain amount of "classics" is like a Scientist never having read about the atom. Or a model never having made herself throw up. It just goes against nature.
Yes, I have read tons of great books. I really love reading, and there's RARELY a time when I'm not in the middle of a great book. I've actually never read a book in its entirety that I didn't like. And while I've read Ayn Rand and very much enjoyed it, I definitely fell asleep while reading Animal Farm and never picked it up again.
I am a fraud, you guys. I lie about the amount and quality of books I've read. I took an entire class in college on Shakespeare, and yet I still can't admit that I never read The Catcher in the Rye. I know who Holden Caulfield is because of the movie The Good Girl starring the illustrious Jennifer Aniston. But I've read The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists. It's a nonfiction book about one dude who is living amongst a group of other dudes who live to pick up women. You know what you guys? I LIKED IT. I liked it more than 90% of the books I read in college.
What does this mean, you guys? I studied Literature and Shakespeare and Greek mythology at a Big Ten school. And yet I prefer the juicy, sexy, racy, vulgar, and irreverent voice of my own generation. What does that make me? I'll tell you what it makes me: a fraud. I reference classic literature as if I've read it cover to cover 10 times, when in reality it's because I either saw the movie, or there was a reference to said classic literature in Family Guy.
Well, there it is people. My Dirty Laundry. Aired out for all of you to enjoy. I'm a big fat liar who prefers Vogue to Jane Austen. Just do me a solid and don't tell anyone though, okay? Cool.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Gleek Squad
I. Love. Glee. Does anyone NOT love Glee? Who woulda thought? The former band geek is now a loud, proud Gleek. It’s one of the few TV shows I try and stay home to watch. Why? Well, it’s got everything I love in a TV show. Dancing, singing, costumes, teen pregnancy, and ditzy cheerleaders who date the ditzy jocks. Ah, to be in high school again…
When I was in high school, as I’ve mentioned, I was a bandie. I played the flute. When my lack of practicing and frequently missed classes due to “doctor’s appointments” started to affect my standing in the flute chorale, I focused all my half-hearted energy on being the solo piccolo player. Every note I played was technically a solo. Didn’t really make sense at the time, as I was pretty content blending in to the middle of 15 girls faking my way through runs and trills, but it made me buckle down and not embarrass myself anymore. So, I practiced. I went to rehearsals. I even marched in Marching Band, when it didn’t conflict with soccer or cheerleading. Wow, that makes me sound both very nerdy and very well-rounded simultaneously. Anyway, the point is I started working. And I got by. Such a success story!
I guess I never really thought there was anything wrong with being in band. A lot of my friends were in band. Roughly 80% of the Homecoming Court was made up of bandies. It wasn’t the mark of shame that some would believe. I mean, yeah there were nerds and geeks IN band, but just being in band didn’t make you a nerd. At least, that’s what my mom tells me. But I liked it, dammit. I love music, and I loved being able to make it. And that is why I watch Glee.
I am totally unaware of whether or not my high school had a glee club. I’m 99% sure we didn’t. Even if there was one, I probably wouldn’t have joined. There’s no way they would have performed Britney Spears or Journey songs. They would not have embraced Lady Gaga’s disgusting, albeit totally funny, fashion choices with such…such…vigor. And they dance. It’s everything I never would have done in high school. Well, except for one thing: Rachel, the main character, wears Kate Spade sweaters. THAT I would have done.
See, the show is awesome. But it keeps the kids geeky and unpopular when possible. I like that. Being a geek makes a person much more interesting. I like to think of myself as a geek. And I made it through high school totally unscathed and almost totally free of emotional scarring...even though I wore one of the ugliest band uniforms ever created, and technically lettered in band. Of course I never put the patch on my letter jacket, but oh well. I put it on my college applications, and that’s really what counts.
So, if you haven’t watched it yet, start watching Glee immediately. And if you know of any 12 or 13 year-olds, or are one yourself, go ahead and sign up for something nerdy before it’s too late. Just make sure they don’t end up in like CHESS CLUB. There’s no show on the planet that can give Chess Club any street cred.
When I was in high school, as I’ve mentioned, I was a bandie. I played the flute. When my lack of practicing and frequently missed classes due to “doctor’s appointments” started to affect my standing in the flute chorale, I focused all my half-hearted energy on being the solo piccolo player. Every note I played was technically a solo. Didn’t really make sense at the time, as I was pretty content blending in to the middle of 15 girls faking my way through runs and trills, but it made me buckle down and not embarrass myself anymore. So, I practiced. I went to rehearsals. I even marched in Marching Band, when it didn’t conflict with soccer or cheerleading. Wow, that makes me sound both very nerdy and very well-rounded simultaneously. Anyway, the point is I started working. And I got by. Such a success story!
I guess I never really thought there was anything wrong with being in band. A lot of my friends were in band. Roughly 80% of the Homecoming Court was made up of bandies. It wasn’t the mark of shame that some would believe. I mean, yeah there were nerds and geeks IN band, but just being in band didn’t make you a nerd. At least, that’s what my mom tells me. But I liked it, dammit. I love music, and I loved being able to make it. And that is why I watch Glee.
I am totally unaware of whether or not my high school had a glee club. I’m 99% sure we didn’t. Even if there was one, I probably wouldn’t have joined. There’s no way they would have performed Britney Spears or Journey songs. They would not have embraced Lady Gaga’s disgusting, albeit totally funny, fashion choices with such…such…vigor. And they dance. It’s everything I never would have done in high school. Well, except for one thing: Rachel, the main character, wears Kate Spade sweaters. THAT I would have done.
See, the show is awesome. But it keeps the kids geeky and unpopular when possible. I like that. Being a geek makes a person much more interesting. I like to think of myself as a geek. And I made it through high school totally unscathed and almost totally free of emotional scarring...even though I wore one of the ugliest band uniforms ever created, and technically lettered in band. Of course I never put the patch on my letter jacket, but oh well. I put it on my college applications, and that’s really what counts.
So, if you haven’t watched it yet, start watching Glee immediately. And if you know of any 12 or 13 year-olds, or are one yourself, go ahead and sign up for something nerdy before it’s too late. Just make sure they don’t end up in like CHESS CLUB. There’s no show on the planet that can give Chess Club any street cred.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
I've Got Spirits, Yes I Do! I've Got Spirits, How 'Bout YOU!?
I went to a psychic at the Aquatennial Block Party in Minneapolis the summer after my freshman year of college. She told me I would be a fashion designer, that I would meet my husband in college, and that I would have twins “because multiples run in my family, don‘t they, deary?”. So far: 0 for 3. But the woman behind the crackled card table couldn’t have been more believable. She wore a SCARF, on her HEAD! She had rings on each finger and turquoise eye shadow. After I forked over the $10, she asked me my name and rolled her eyes into the back of her head for a minute or so before smiling knowingly. It was so clear, all of a sudden. My entire future spilled out of her mouth like oil. And it was my perfect future.
But I didn’t have much of a poker face back then, and my ginormous smiles and anxious nods probably helped her tell me exactly what I wanted to hear. I didn’t realize that I was in the midst of a fraudulent psychic. Then tonight, I talked to Madeline who visited Allison DuBois, who is NOT a psychic, but a Medium. (The TV show “Medium” is based on her life.) Anyhoo, DuBois claims to have the ability to contact the spirits of those who have passed, and harness their energy in order to guide those of us on Earth. Madeline got the opportunity to ask her a few questions, and the responses were spot on. I think.
Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a skeptic when it comes to pseudo-science. You just can’t scientifically prove someone’s abilities to speak to spirits. It’s like trying to prove that I was just thinking about a purple fish with freckles. So, I was definitely skeptical when Madeline was telling me about her session with Allison. I mean, there really isn’t anyway to prove what WOULD have happened in someone‘s life. People also tend to hear what they want to hear when they seek out someone like Allison DuBois. So, I have my doubts.
But sometimes you just can’t argue when someone you just met can tell you your own secrets back to you. If someone said to me “I’m feeling an energy from you, like a walleye with melanoma. Or freckles.” I would freak! And sometimes you just need to hear some vindication about your life, and that you‘re headed in the right direction. Proven or not, I’m definitely a believer that people who have passed away look over us. Plus, I’m pretty sure there is a ghost who haunts me and follows me around tripping me. That’s the only possible explanation for the number of times I trip in a day.
Then again, I’m definitely not a fashion designer. But maybe it’s like getting a tattoo. If you visit a cartoony lady on the street for a tattoo, you almost certainly won’t get the same results as going to Kat Von D. The lady on the street could give you “NO REGETS” instead of “NO REGRETS”. I went to a sketchy woman and got a sketchy “reading”. Maybe Allison DuBois is the real McCoy. I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader. But is anybody?
But I didn’t have much of a poker face back then, and my ginormous smiles and anxious nods probably helped her tell me exactly what I wanted to hear. I didn’t realize that I was in the midst of a fraudulent psychic. Then tonight, I talked to Madeline who visited Allison DuBois, who is NOT a psychic, but a Medium. (The TV show “Medium” is based on her life.) Anyhoo, DuBois claims to have the ability to contact the spirits of those who have passed, and harness their energy in order to guide those of us on Earth. Madeline got the opportunity to ask her a few questions, and the responses were spot on. I think.
Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a skeptic when it comes to pseudo-science. You just can’t scientifically prove someone’s abilities to speak to spirits. It’s like trying to prove that I was just thinking about a purple fish with freckles. So, I was definitely skeptical when Madeline was telling me about her session with Allison. I mean, there really isn’t anyway to prove what WOULD have happened in someone‘s life. People also tend to hear what they want to hear when they seek out someone like Allison DuBois. So, I have my doubts.
But sometimes you just can’t argue when someone you just met can tell you your own secrets back to you. If someone said to me “I’m feeling an energy from you, like a walleye with melanoma. Or freckles.” I would freak! And sometimes you just need to hear some vindication about your life, and that you‘re headed in the right direction. Proven or not, I’m definitely a believer that people who have passed away look over us. Plus, I’m pretty sure there is a ghost who haunts me and follows me around tripping me. That’s the only possible explanation for the number of times I trip in a day.
Then again, I’m definitely not a fashion designer. But maybe it’s like getting a tattoo. If you visit a cartoony lady on the street for a tattoo, you almost certainly won’t get the same results as going to Kat Von D. The lady on the street could give you “NO REGETS” instead of “NO REGRETS”. I went to a sketchy woman and got a sketchy “reading”. Maybe Allison DuBois is the real McCoy. I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader. But is anybody?
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Geek Chic
You’ve probably had this marked on your calendar for months now, but just to remind you: today is “Embrace Your Geekness” Day! And in honor of this historic day, I invite you to research the topic. Do you know the difference between Nerds and Geeks??
I think I’m pretty geeky. I was in band for pretty much all of my developmental years. Wait, did I mention I was also in marching band? Yes. It’s true. Your beloved, chic, stylish blogger is a bandie. It’s okay. I balanced that out by also being voted “Most Likely to Skip Band” in high school. We good now?
Geekiness has really come into its own these days. People have love affairs with computer products and brands, the richest people in the world are men who you would have given a swirly to in middle school, and the advancement in technology demands an insatiable appetite for knowledge. But outside of technology and computers, I have discovered a love for a whole new level of geekdom.
There’s a board game called Settlers of Catan. If you haven’t heard of it, you’re probably in the majority. Basically, it’s a game that includes elements from Oregon Trail, Dungeons and Dragons, and all those pesky statistics and probability lessons we learned in high school (or in my case, never). But I love this game. I love the element of chance, the relationships you must try to build and maintain throughout the game, and the hundreds of different strategies. It’s a thinking game. You make jokes about resources, Victory Points, and trading. And the geek in me thrives on it.
Also very geeky? I listen to a podcast called The Skeptics Guide to the Universe. It’s hosted by a group of scientists and neurologists. Every week, they talk about developments in science, space, medicine, and general nerdiness. They debunk the rumors of “miracle drugs” by providing scientific evidence, and they discuss the importance of whether or not a moon of Jupiter may have rings. To be honest, a lot of it goes WAY over my head, but the witty banter, the clever, disparaging remarks, and their general attitude towards unproven science/medicine makes me thirst for more. P.S. Did you know there’s something called the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland that at this very moment is attempting to recreate the Big Bang? Yeah, it’s awesome.
So today, I honor my geekhood. I’ll remember the nights I spent watching Star Trek: The Next Generation (or TNG to all my fellow geeks) when I was younger. And tonight I celebrated this momentous occasion by going over to Prinna’s and learning about all kinds of nerdy computer stuff. Now, I have a brand spankin’ new RSS feed on my blog (yay! Subscribe!), and I can do awesome things like this (please do note the pretty pink theme that Prinna made):
I think I’m pretty geeky. I was in band for pretty much all of my developmental years. Wait, did I mention I was also in marching band? Yes. It’s true. Your beloved, chic, stylish blogger is a bandie. It’s okay. I balanced that out by also being voted “Most Likely to Skip Band” in high school. We good now?
Geekiness has really come into its own these days. People have love affairs with computer products and brands, the richest people in the world are men who you would have given a swirly to in middle school, and the advancement in technology demands an insatiable appetite for knowledge. But outside of technology and computers, I have discovered a love for a whole new level of geekdom.
There’s a board game called Settlers of Catan. If you haven’t heard of it, you’re probably in the majority. Basically, it’s a game that includes elements from Oregon Trail, Dungeons and Dragons, and all those pesky statistics and probability lessons we learned in high school (or in my case, never). But I love this game. I love the element of chance, the relationships you must try to build and maintain throughout the game, and the hundreds of different strategies. It’s a thinking game. You make jokes about resources, Victory Points, and trading. And the geek in me thrives on it.
Also very geeky? I listen to a podcast called The Skeptics Guide to the Universe. It’s hosted by a group of scientists and neurologists. Every week, they talk about developments in science, space, medicine, and general nerdiness. They debunk the rumors of “miracle drugs” by providing scientific evidence, and they discuss the importance of whether or not a moon of Jupiter may have rings. To be honest, a lot of it goes WAY over my head, but the witty banter, the clever, disparaging remarks, and their general attitude towards unproven science/medicine makes me thirst for more. P.S. Did you know there’s something called the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland that at this very moment is attempting to recreate the Big Bang? Yeah, it’s awesome.
So today, I honor my geekhood. I’ll remember the nights I spent watching Star Trek: The Next Generation (or TNG to all my fellow geeks) when I was younger. And tonight I celebrated this momentous occasion by going over to Prinna’s and learning about all kinds of nerdy computer stuff. Now, I have a brand spankin’ new RSS feed on my blog (yay! Subscribe!), and I can do awesome things like this (please do note the pretty pink theme that Prinna made):
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)