Monday, February 27, 2012

I just figured out... I'm Blue's Clues

I'm not sure how many of you remember Blue's Clues on Nick, Jr. (Blue was a girl... that still boggles the mind), but they had a "thinking chair" where the host (Steve Burns because we all know that Donovan or "Joe" wasn't an OG and doesn't count) went when he needed to figure out what all of Blue's clues meant. He always made these exagerrated thinking faces that drove me insane. I just wanted to yell at the television that it was okay to think normally. Kids would grasp the concept, and his eyebrows wouldn't get stuck in that weird thinking position.

I realized today that I was right about being forced to watch Blue's Clues with the cousins and it was actually harmful to my mental health probably should have looked in the mirror a bit sooner. I've turned into Steve.

I submit into evidence:
Magical Doors. They take us to mysterious places deep in the recesses of my mind where the angels that help the good guys in the apocalypse are donkeys with wings named Ee and Oo (said like a donkey braying, of course), tennis has its very own land called Tennis Ball Land where everything is tennis ball colored and bouncy, elves make all the cool stuff like those awesome microwave brownies, and fairies use dragonflies as taxis. Don't judge me. I have a vivid imagination that likes to haunt my dreams.

The Writing Spot. Every pillow in the house gets piled up in the middle of the living room floor with pens, the Handy Dandy Notebook (!!), and the laptop spread out around it. I can't "work through" writing related problems on the laptop. If a chapter feels off to me, I have to see it in ink and the Handy Dandy Notebook (!!) to figure out why. 

The Writing Face. Narrowed eyes, pursed lips, and an intense look of concentration, punctuated with wordless movements of the mouth and the tapping of my finger. In my defense, my handwriting is atrocious most of the time, so I have to concentrate really hard to figure out what the heck I just wrote. Don't ask me about the mouth movements though, I have no clue where those came from. My mouth just moves automagically when I read or write. It's a little bizarre, and is evidence that my brain and mouth are, in fact, intimately connected. That's my theory anyway.

Inanimate Object Assistance. Steve talked to salt and pepper shakers. I talk to pretty much any inanimate object in the general vicinity. The Husbinator used to laugh at me constantly for this, and it made me paranoid that I really was super freakishly abnormal (compared to freakishly abnormal which is okay), so I polled all of the girlfriends via text one day, and, thank the PTB, I'm not the only one that does this. He stopped making fun of me after my informal poll, but I still see his lips twitch every once in a while after I've thanked the car keys for being where I hoped they were, or politely said excuse me to the freezer for running into it. He's evil. That's all there is to that.


The Success Song and Dance. We just figured out Blue's Clues, we just figured out Blue's Clues... You all know the song and dance I'm referring to. I have my own version, complete with spastic dancing and overly proud of myself because I'm awesome and just solved the problem lyrics. I even break out disco moves and the Cabbage Patch (if you don't know what that is, we can't talk until you go to YouTube, look it up, and then practice until you've perfected it.).

I can only logically conclude that either Nick Jr. needs to hook me up with a hosting job (I could totally get down with talking to animated dogs, and I even dance for free!), or that karma is rolling around laughing its arse off right about now. Either way... if I wander out in a striped shirt any time soon, someone better call the Fashion Police.

Thoroughly disturbed and a wee bit frightened,

P.S. The Book Loving Chocolate Holiday Contest Winners will be announced next week! :) 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Blog Archive