Random Thoughts From the Nerd

October 22, 2009

I want to know what dogs are thinking, but not smelling. I don’t want to have to work that hard or experience that much.

Cats are impossible to read. They need an interpreter – perhaps a chinchilla?

I really don’t want to know how swine flu went from swine to human. Or for that matter, how ebola went from monkey to human. Regardless, someone was acting inappropriately in both situations.

Is it possible to freeze electricity?

There HAS to be a speed of dark. I just feel it. I’d be shocked if there weren’t.

Nothing smells better in a house than a batch of snickerdoodles fresh from the oven.

Any word that has “oodle” in it is fun to say.

The best punctuation mark in the world? The umlaut. Not just fun to use, but fun to say. Try it, you’ll agree.

Ask the Amish if they use hybrids. They’ll probably say, “Yes, I own a mule.” Great tie in with biology.

If Edgar Allan Poe were alive today, I would want to be his Facebook friend. Only.

People who think the world cares about them, but we really don’t:

  • Heidi and Spencer Pratt
  • Jon Gosselin
  • Paris Hilton
  • Tila Tequila
  • Balloon boy dad

People who will some day get their asses kicked by an assorted group of fed-up middle class and lower class folks:

  • Same folks

If we can put a man on the moon, why can’t anyone create chocolate covered potato chips? Two PMS problems solved at once.


Conversations with My Muse: Getting My Ego Crushed

October 20, 2009

Hey there! Long time, no see!

Hi….Hang on a sec...N-A-I-F– that works.

Excuse me?

What, you’ve never heard of that word?

Um, noooo…

What kind of language arts teacher are you?

Apparently, not much of one.

Now, you know that isn’t true!

Well, you’d think I’d have a pretty expansive vocabulary, being a lover of words and all…

You do claim you’re the “word nerd”.

I am very proud of that title, chickie.

I don’t doubt that. And I’m not making fun of you.

Then what’s going on here?

I’m just playing a little Scrabble on my IPhone.

IPhone? You have an IPhone now? Lemme guess — the rich oil baron from Texas?

Yes. I told you I wanted one. I’ve had this one for a month or so. Now I can have all my social networking sites in one set place. I’ll never have to carry a laptop with me again.

Well aren’t you “special”?



Another word for special. Do I need to dumb this down for you?

You’re in a bit of a mood.

Ya think?

How come?

I got my ass handed to me on a platter last night.

Oh my! Where did you hear that expression?

Just a little something I overheard during the last OSU versus Purdue game.

Ah. What happened?

Well, I thought it would be nice to play a game of Scrabble with an old friend.

Who was the friend?

I call him “Billy”. He prefers “William”.

Uh oh, I don’t like where this is going…William? William who?


Holy CRAP! You sat down to play a word game with William Shakespeare?

Yea, so?

Wow. Very presumptuous of you, don’t you think?

Not getting it here.

Meds wearing off?

Little bit.

Figured. Only that you decided to play a WORD game with a WORD SMITH.

I don’t have any friends named “Smith”.

Geez, pay attention! You really need to study up on your history.

I AM history. I’m an ancient Greek —

I KNOW who you are. What I can’t figure out is why you’d want to challenge the one person in the history of mankind who was personally responsible for introducing more than one THOUSAND words into the English language AND invented the compound word.

He did all that?

Uh, no duh, muse.

Wow. I did not know that. He just seems like a great guy to be around. He “gets” me. I “get” him. No pretense, no boundaries.


What’s that?

My muse had no idea about —

HEY– I told you before I don’t know everybody. I have only worked for a select few million…

Yea, but..

But what? You expect me to have this big dossier on all these famous people throughout history.

Well, ya since you’re the muse of poetry and song I would expect that to be part of your background research.

You’re wrong. I don’t have the time, energy or patience to run a background check on every one of my employers.

Maybe you should. There sure seems to be a lot of people writing stuff that is total crap.

Now with that I agree. See, isn’t it amazing how we can put our competitive differences aside and just enjoy each other’s company?

Who you calling competitive?

You — you don’t like to lose games often, do you?

Not word ones.

Thought so.

Hey, if we’re wrapping this up, then I want you to clean up your Scrabble mess before you leave.

What mess?

The tiles spilled all over the floor when I sat down on top of them.


Yea, and now I can’t seem to find the Q.

I’m not going there.

No, no you’re not.

Conversations with My Muse: The Sandman Waketh

August 14, 2009

Dude, get up.


I said, get up!

Wha? Huh? Whose zat?

Me. I said wake up.

Go away.

No, not until we talk.

What the fu–

Don’t speak to me that way, now get up or I’m gonna give you a wedgie.

Friggen leave me alone, dammit!

NO. I want an explanation now.

Bitch, can’t you see I’m trying to sleep here? WHAT THE FU-

That’s it, I’m grabbin..

Ow! Jezzus, what the hell is wrong with you?

Good, you’re awake.

Well now I am!!!

We need to talk about last night.

What about it? Ooooooh, my friggen head. I think I’m gonna hurl.

The bathroom’s over there. Go do what you gotta do and then come back. We’re gonna talk about that dream I had last night.

Dream you had? Sheeee it, that’s what this is about?

Yes, now go.

Little demanding there. Can you at least give me a couple minutes here? I gotta —


I can’t stand up yet-

Why not? Ohhhhhh…

Yea, smart ass. Ohhh.

Sorry, I’m a chick. Nothing on me wakes up twenty minutes before I do. I’ll turn away until you’re, ahem, ALL awake and good to go.

You can at least offer to make me a cup of coffee while we’re waiting.

Sure, but let me tell you it’s early afternoon.

So? My shift starts at midnight.

Ah, that’s right…you have the night shift. Which is exactly why we need to talk.

I’m not getting into this without my afternoon piss and a cup of coffee.

Fine then – I’ll be back with two cups. I give you two minutes, make it quick.

Two minutes? I can’t whiz that fast.

That’s gross, just go already — sheesh!


Watch the attitude.

You’re a pain in the ass, ya know that?

Hey, I’m not the one with the raging hangover.

You try coming up with millions of ideas for dreams every night, night after night. Then you can come bitching to me about how much I drink. It’s not easy being me, ya know.

Oh, quit your whining. Geez, you can be such a girly man at times.

Excuse me?

You heard me. You have no idea what it’s like to be female.

Uh, yea, I do. I rummage around inside many females’ heads on a regular basis. And let me tell you, what I see is scary shit sometimes.

Like what?

You fantasize too often. Sorry, but Erik Estrada? How gay is that?

Me dreaming about Erik Estrada is gay? How do you figure that?

That guy was so..I dunno, 70s?

Ya, so what? At least I’m not fantasizing about Courtney Thorne Smith.


Hey, that’s hubby’s fantasy, not mine. Stick with the program here.

Whatever. So, I’m up now. What’s the big deal about last night?

Well, you threw me in a garbage truck. I’m curious to know what made you decide to do that.

I did that?

Yes, I was thrown into a garbage truck and covered in a whole bunch of disgusting crap. Then, I had to sit there and listen to the thing start compacting on me. It was scary, I started freaking out.

Wow, that’s nasty.

No kidding! I could even feel my head compressing. I feel things in my dreams, you know.

You do? Like what?

Oh, everything. Some people only dream in black and white. Many don’t even remember their dreams. I, on the other hand, remember everything. I also taste, see, touch, smell and feel in my dreams.

That’s cool.

No, not all the time. Imagine being able to feel the concussion of being shot. Think that’s “cool”?

Well, no.

Exactly. But that’s what happens to me when I dream. Everything is 100% vivid.


What? You actually sounded coherent there for a moment.

Well, I do have a theory about your dreams, now that I’m a little more awake.

Hangover going away?

Can’t ya tell? Heh heh heh.

Good Lord, it’s like visiting with a frat boy. This place is even littered with beer bottles, which is odd since I don’t drink beer.

Imagine how your dreams would be if, say, I dropped acid? I think you’re getting off pretty easy here.

How so?

Well, you get the benefit of my insobriety while I have to wake each afternoon with a hangover. I think you’re the one taking advantage of me.

Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re pushing your problems off onto me.

Listen, I’ll make it very simple for you to understand. Your dreams aren’t as incoherent and incongruent as you think.

They aren’t? Hmm, try explaining that to my husband. He thinks my dreams are indicative of something far worse than just an active imagination.

He does?

Not really, but he does roll his eyes whenever he hears me say, “You won’t believe the dream I had last night…” He usually follows that up with, “And it was very weird.”

Nice catch phrase.

It works. So, back to the garbage truck dream. What was that all about?

Simple. Remember last year when you got all caught up in that work stuff?

Yea, that was a load of crap.


Oh…I think I’m catching on. I had to take a load of crap last year from some fellow workers..

Keep going…

And now that the main trouble maker is gone…

Un huh…

I can officially “dump” the idea of having to take that same load of crap THIS year!


Wow, that is freakin’ amazing. You did all that?

And you thought I was nothing more than just a lazy, shiftless, raging alcoholic frat boy who enjoys the occasional picture show of girl-on-girl action and nudity..

Whoa, buddy…Let’s not go there, okay?

Hey, I’m a guy, what can I tell ya?

I guess we all have our weaknesses. Just remember, I don’t swing that way. So, if you’re in the mood for a little girl on girl porn, go visit my hubby, okay?

Cool. How does he feel about Jennifer Aniston?

You’re a pig.

You know you love me.

I’m out of here.

Conversations with My Muse: Choices We Make

August 10, 2009

Ow, ow, ow…

What’s wrong?

I’m old, that’s what’s wrong.

You, old? You’re only 47!

What the hell, I’m only 44 — 45 this October.

Ohhhh, you mean you didn’t just turn 47 this year?

No. That was my spouse.

Ah, well I knew there was a 47 year old living somewhere in your house.

Yea, he’s the older dude, going gray.

That happens. Well, it happens to others.

What do you mean by that?

Well, look at me, for instance. How “old” do you think I look?

Yea, yea, I get it — you don’t look a day older than 24.

And HOW old am I really?

Well, I’m not sure. We’ve never really established that, have we?

Older than Jesus, if you believe that kind of stuff.

Oh, I’m definitely a Christian. Just not “that” kind of Christian.

What do you mean by “not that kind of Christian”?

Creationists. I am not a big believer in that theory.

Oooh, are we here to discuss theology? This could be quite the debate.

Eh, not so much. It’s so hard to get good, solid debates going with people nowadays.

How come?

Someone always gets pissed off. It seems that I can’t say a damn thing anymore without risking getting someone’s knickers in a knot.

Knickers? What are those?


Again, what are those?

Aw come on, you know what pants are, don’t you?

Um, do you see what I’m wearing here?

You mean your toga?

Yes. I’ve had this on for several thousand years now. Of course I change it from time to time, add a couple of extra fig leaves and olive branches where and when necessary, but it’s pretty much all I have in my wardrobe.

How boring.

Well, yes and no. It makes it a lot simpler to choose what to wear in the morning. I don’t have to stand in my closet and think too hard about my outfit.

True. I like the simplicity behind that.

But, there are times when I wish I had a little more “something something”. Know what I’m saying?

Not really, but I sense you’re going to tell me anyways, aren’t you?

Come on, how long have we known each other now?

True. Go on, share your latest “thoughts on fashion” with me. I’ll just sit here and enjoy this hot cup of coherence.

Ha! “Cup of coherence” — I like that!

Thanks, I created that one on my own. You were “off duty” that day, wink wink.

Sheesh! You won’t let me live that incident in Italy down, will you?

Well, it was a pretty serious thing you did.

Let’s move on, shall we?

Agreed. Now, explain your fashion sense.

Okay. I’ll start with the toga. This is my “required” work uniform, so I have to wear this when I am working with others on their composing.

Uniform? Your toga is a uniform?

Of course, if I didn’t wear this people wouldn’t take me seriously as an Ancient Greek Muse. So, it goes without saying that I am required to remain professionally dressed at all times. Hence, the toga.

Wow, some uniform. I assume it is insulated from the cold weather climates, too?

Of course! I added an extra layer or two of lanolin and gortex for those chilly biomes I go to on occasion.

Like the Inuits up north?

Exactly. If it hadn’t been for those added layers, I’d have turned into a frozen musicle. Ha, get it? MUSE icle, MUSICAL?


I swear, I kill me some times.

Back to our topic…

Hang on a sec…I’ve got to change songs on my IPod…

Whoa. You’ve been listening to your Ipod while you’re sitting here talking to me?

Yea, why not? I’m a great multi tasker.

That’s kinda rude. I have to tell my kids all the time to take their ear buds out of their ears and listen to me. The only relief I have is, they don’t have cell phones too — so I am not competing with their text messaging skills.

Your kids don’t have cell phones?

No, and they won’t be getting them any time soon. I figure if I am driving my kid somewhere, I damn well know where he or she is, and if I call that place and they aren’t there — well, that’s a problem they won’t like having.


Yea, I know — I’m a real old-fashioned, fuddy duddy of a mom. My kids tell me that almost every day. My choice, though. I survived my early years without one just fine, thank you very much.

I think that’s a good thing, though.

You do? I thought you’d be a little disappointed in me. Think I was being too strict as a mom.

Can I let you in on a little secret?


There’s been a lot of talk back on Mt Olympus about your kids.

My kids? Huh???

Oh yea! Zeus and Hera have been very complimentary towards you, your husband and your kids. They feel you and your husband have your parenting shit together.

And where are they getting this information from?

Me, silly. Do you think I just sit around here, listen to you blather on about your life, etc, and not do anything with that information?

Well, there was this whole “confidentiality agreement” you agreed to sign.

That only covers issues of privacy that might jeopardize your career or personal safety — first and/or last names, kids names, city locations, etc.


The rest is “free domain” knowledge. And by Gods, your children are good kids. Worthy of a paragraph or two in the parenting section of the Mt. Olympus Monthly.

Wow, the Gods like me, they really, really like me!

Okay Sally Fields, let’s get back to the main point of today’s topic: choices.

Yes, I LOVE this topic.


Because there have been times lately when I’ve just wanted to pull my hair out over some of the things I’ve heard in the press.

And you think this is a good thing? To get so stressed out about what others are doing?

It makes me feel better about the choices I make.

Give me a story that really chapped your hide.

I see you’re borrowing a phrase I used the other day: “chaps my hide”

I didn’t borrow it, I gave it to you.

Okay, whateverrrr!

No, no, no! Remember — we both agreed to strike that word from our collective vocabulary! tsk tsk!

Sorry, you’re right. Let’s move on..A story…well, without having to rehash what I wrote about that cop who was caught going 149 mph on his motorcyle, I’d just like to finish that story up by saying the arresting officer made a foolish choice of his own.

How so?

He turned off the microphone on his radio after he realized the officer who was speeding was a “friendly.”

What’s a “friendly”?

A fellow cop, you know — one of his own.

So the conversation wasn’t recorded? No evidence? Oooh, that sounds bad.

Yea, sounds a little like a cover up, huh?

Could be. What’s going to happen to the cop, do you think?

I dunno, but I’m assuming that there will be an investigation. At least I hope so.

Okay, I get it. It goes back to “choices” we make.

Exactly — the choices we make are the stepping stones to the consequences we must endure.

Nice quote, who said that?

I did! I just made it up.

Well, I like it — heyyyyyyyy…

Ah ha, is that what I think it is?


I see the light bulb going off over your head.

You want me to reconsider turning myself in, don’t you?

Wow, I’m impressed. You stayed on task and focused today AND caught the message I have been trying to give you the entire time.

You’re very clever.

Naw, just getting older and wiser.

Conversations with My Muse: Anonymity and Affirmation

August 8, 2009

EXCUSE ME! I believe I had my hand on that watermelon first!

Oh, I’m sorry — here, take it.


Shhhhh! Please, don’t…


Be quiet! People are starting to stare…

Let them, and give me a hug first!

Really, I beg of you, please tone it down..

Okay, sorry….

That’s better, thanks.

I just can’t believe you’re back…and in the middle of the produce department, thumping watermelons, even.

Well, you know me – ADPB girl.

True. So, let me take a look at you. Take a twirl for me.

I’d rather not.

Aw come on, nobody knows who you are, and I doubt anyone is thinking anything other than we’re two friends who haven’t seen each other in a while.

Well, put that way…okay

Okay, I understand the long skirt..some habits are hard to break, huh? But, I need a little explanation here…what the hell is going on with the wig, dark sunglasses and black beret?

I’m in disguise.

Disguise? Oh hell…..you’re still on the run, aren’t you?


Why??? Didn’t I tell you to turn yourself in?

Well, about that…

Oh, this should be good. Go ahead, I’m listening.

I was heading to Italy, fully intending on turning myself in, when “it” happened. Or, I should say “he” happened.

Why am I not surprised by this? Pony up — who is the “he” in this flimsy excuse?

Oh my god Nerd, you should see him! He is sooooooo cute!

Here we go again….lemme guess — are we 17 today? 22? I can’t tell behind the sunglasses and fake bobbed wig.

Hey, I’m an adult and that’s all you need to know. You really shouldn’t be so judgmental, ya know.

That’s my job, to keep you in line.

Since when?

Since I hired you. You work for me.

And exactly how much am I being paid for this little “deal” we’ve swung with each other? What IS my cut? Cuz, I’m still waiting for that…

Well, it just so happens that you and I are “getting published”! Ha!

No kidding????? When did all this happen?

While you were gallavanting around the globe, and picking up strange men.

Oh my God–that reminds me, I still haven’t told you about my new guy!

This “unfocused” behavior is kinda starting to piss me off, muse. Can we please stay on topic for ONCE?

Well, sure…um, what is the topic?


Oooh, while you’re doing your deep breathing exercises, let me tell you about my new guy. I think this could be “the one”.

You’re not gonna let this one go until you’ve gushed all about him, are you?

He’s my life now.

That’s creepy sounding.

Well….as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me with all this talk about “being published”, I met him en route to Italy. I was coming down the coast of Russia, veered to the right, over Yugoslavia when BINGO! I saw him.

Yugoslavia? What part?

Croatia. What a beautiful country, by the way.

Yes, I know. I’ve got in laws from that area. Zagreb, if I remember correctly.

Cool! So you know how dreamy the men are? I just love brown eyes…it’s like looking into pools of liquid chocolate. I just want to fall in and lap him all up.

Slow down there, chickie. We’re still in public, ya know.

I can always go stick my head in the frozen foods department.

That might work. Just don’t leave any butt prints on the ice cream containers. The staff tends to frown on that type of behavior.

I would assume so.

Okay, so let me make sure we have our stories straight, okay?

Yep, but first — do you know where I can find the following items: Feta cheese, Romaine lettuce, garlic and olive oil?

Mmmm, sounds like a Greek salad to me.

But of course, what else would I make for my man?

Ever try Saganaki?

What’s that? It sounds yummy…

Flaming cheese. It’s a real “celebratory” food — you pan fry a coated piece of cheese in olive oil, put a little brandy in it, take it to the table, light it and, at the top of your voice, yell “OPA!” while trying not to set your eyebrows on fire at the same time. Then, douse the flames with a half of a lemon squeezed over the top. It is to DIE FOR.

Fire? You trust me around flames?

Good point, stick to the salad.

So, are we done here? My man is waiting for me back at our place.

You’re living together????

Not yet. We’ve only been dating for a week now.


If things work out, I’m going to suggest we rent a place together somewhere in Switzerland.

Why Switzerland of all places?

Netural territory. The law can’t touch me there.

Ah…So I am assuming you’re perfectly okay with being a professional fugitive, always on the move?

Beats the alternative.

And what would the “alternative” to being a fugitive exactly be?

Being stuck with the same house, same job, same city, same spouse, same kids, year after year, waiting for death to release you from life’s dull grasp.

Wow, that’s harsh. I totally disagree.

I tell it like it is. And one final thing…

What’s that?

Those shorts do make your ass look a little too big.

Leave now, before I alert security.

What would you do….???

August 5, 2009

If you were allowed to learn ONLY “one thing” ahead of time, what would it be and why? Think about it.

Food for thought: if you say “lottery numbers”, then you can’t know what date they are going to be drawn (because that is TWO things: numbers AND day)

I look forward to your answers!!

The Nerd


August 4, 2009

At times, my life was a landscape,
Designed and defined
By wheat-colored, stilled flat lands
Stretching for endless miles,
along a simple plane.
My life at times was a slow pace
Of gradual ascent
Towards a sandstone plateau
Overlooking impassable peaks and low-lying valleys.
Riverbanks overflowing from tears,
Raged alongside
The soft carpeting of springy, green grass
just beyond my reach,
where lavender-colored flowers bent to the wind’s call
and red-breasted songbirds answered in unabashed celebration.

My life is becoming
A series of jagged,
Roughened, wind-worn edges
Of slips, dips, slides and glides
Along its changing horizons.
The pebbles under my feet –
Small annoyances left behind long ago.
The stones in my shoes –
My burdens along this beaten path.
Boulders – some granite, others made of
weathering sandstone,
Are my constant worries:

Am I good enough?
Am I smart enough?
Am I loved enough?

Navigating this mountain
I remind myself to breathe in deeply
To fill my body with life’s experiences
And oxygen to feed my slowly healing soul.

I scan the horizon above, beside and below me:
Above– the freedom to think, to be, to allow, to accept
Beside– less frequent boulders continue to block  my path ahead
Below– more pebbles and stones awaiting my weary feet

Then will I begin my descent down the other side
Stopping only when my journey ends at the place where
I find that bright, green, spring-filled meadow of
safe, soft grass.
Where I can dance,
Unencumbered and unabashed,
among the yellow buttercups and flittering butterflies,
Bare-footed and finally free.