the randomness of my thought process

first published 2008ish...

One night last week Ron and I were channel surfing and paused on a channel that was televising a game of high stakes poker.   Now, for the life of me, I've never been able to figure poker out.  Too many kinds of hands...royal flush, straight, full house.  Also, too much brain calculation required.  If I ever played poker I'd have to have sunglasses that hide my whole face because I'm sure I'd stick out my tongue or spit or say something entirely inappropriate if I was dealt a bad hand.  That's assuming I would even know I'd been dealt a bad hand.

Anyway, Ron says, "Oh, he's got wired nines."  Once again, as has happened more times than I can even begin to count over the last 27 years, my jaw dropped open and I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Wired whats?" I asked.  "How in the heck do you know that?"  He shrugged and gave me his "Betty" face (so named for his mother, who would provide an answer to any question she was ever asked, whether it was true or not).  "Oh, I don't know.  I just do."

Later in the evening a commercial came on [this was obviously prior to my DVR addiction] and I said, "That font is 'Afternoon delight.'"  How pathetic is that?  I can now identify fonts on sight.  Again, enough of the useless information already!  I lamented to Ron that at least his poker knowledge could potentially win him a million dollars.  My "fontabulary" has no value whatsoever.  Unless there was a game called "Name That Font."

"Pat, I can name that font in one letter."

"Janet, name that font."  Does anyone even remember "Name That Tune?"

Changing gears...the other night Tyler found his "Identi-Kid" card [which I carry in my wallet to this day] from 2001.  It was downright hysterical.  He was 12 and he only weighed 85 pounds.  Then I remembered a conversation I had with Jessica (my beautiful boss lady) about her stepson, Brogan.  She had a booster seat in her car and when I asked her about it she told me that KS safety laws require booster seats for all kids under 100 pounds.

So it got even more hysterical when I told Tyler he should have been in a booster seat.  We laughed our heinies off.

Finally, Ron listens to NPR quite a bit and there's this segment called "Star Date."  It unfailingly sends me to the moon (ha) because it illustrates how much money (and you know it has to be a ton of moolah) is being spent acquiring knowledge which has no practical purpose...like what's inside a star.

Show of hands...how many of you care what's inside a star?  Has anyone successfully lassoed one and performed a star autopsy?  Nah, I didn't think so.

Now, is someone was to discover that stars are full of chocolate mousse...well, that's another story entirely.

Gimme a spoon.