Love is like π.|Natural, irrational, and very important.

When I was in middle school, I was a nerd. I don’t mean that in a “smart and good with computers” way. No, if I had been a boy, I would have had a pocket protector. When I broke the earpiece on my glasses (which were ugly to begin with) I attached the earpieces from a pair of my mother’s old glasses. And then wore them in public. My friends were all nerds too, and we comforted each other.

And then one day in 8th grade, the 3 nerdiest girls in the grade almost got suspended.

See, we were all a bit obsessed with Anne of Green Gables. Beautiful Prince Edward Island, being a smart girl who got teased, Anne’s wonderful friendship with Diana, and then… Gilbert Blythe. We all kinda fell for his attitude. At any rate, we would bring the books to school and read them aloud to each other (I told you!).

One day we were wandering around the school property (8th graders were allowed to walk anywhere on the school ground, cause we were that grown up) and we saw this stand of trees across a field about a half-mile wide. For some reason, we decided that it would be fine to head on over. So we trekked across the field, reassuring each other that there was no way we would be caught and we would definitely be back on time.

I’m still glad I went. Inside the stand of trees, which formed an almost perfect circle, was a little clearing. The ground was carpeted in violets. It was one of those places you think only exists in a book. As I went into the center, I saw something white, and upon closer inspection, realized that it was a bleached fox skull. No other bones, just the skull, like someone had placed it there just for us. We sat under a tree and got lost in our books. Some time later, someone looked up and noticed that the sun was no longer directly overhead, as it should have been at lunch time. Unfortunately, we did not go to a large school. We graduated in a class of 32. It wouldn’t be hard to notice that 3 of us were missing.

Let the panic begin!!

We went tear-assing out of there, running across the field. At the edge of the field stood the Vice Principal. Eeek. I seriously thought we were going to be thrown out. I am proud to report that I was the only one who did not cry like a little baby (no, really, I was a tough bitch even then…ahahahaha). We were marched into the Principal’s office and asked to explain ourselves. So, because other people were too busy sobbing, I explained. And I could tell from the look on the Principal’s face when I was done (I left nothing out, I even gushed about the fox skull) that we were in no trouble at all. I’m pretty certain she was trying not to laugh. After all that, she didn’t even call our parents.

We returned to class, and were treated like minor celebrities for the remainder of the afternoon.

Earlier this afternoon, I was standing in my shower, laughing so hard I was crying. Not because there was someone there telling me amusing anecdotes, or because I was reading (yes, in the shower, I like books that much). That would be too SANE. No, I was in hysterics because I was thinking about one of my true, true loves…

Monty Python.

Now I will watch any sort of Britcom. Are You Being Served?, Fawlty Towers, AbFab, Mr. Bean, even Keeping Up Appearances. I love the slapstick elements, and I even mostly get the references and topical jokes. And if I don’t, rest assured I will figure them out by the next time the same show makes the exact same joke. And I will watch said show (or skit, as the case may be) over and over and over again. In a row. I will cackle like a hyena and poke the person sitting next to me to let them know when to laugh (because most people are half-asleep or surreptitiously checking email because they do not possess the refined palate that I do).

Except if it’s Monty Python. Cause then all bets are off. God help the person I con into watching MP with me. Not only do I say the lines along with the teevee, I have been known to “act” things out. Like doing Silly Walks all over the house while fighting to stay upright because I am laughing that hard. And not just the Parrot sketch or the Holy Grail. I know nearly everything they have done, including stuff that was just on the radio. And my obsession started early. Picture this, if you will…

It is a fine spring evening in Ellicott City, Maryland. People have come from near and far to be here, to witness what is to come. There is a sizzle of excitement in the air, an expectant chattering fills the dark hall. This, my friends, is the 7th and 8th Grade Talent Show. There is singing, and dancing, and even some magic graces the stage. But no one knew what treat lay in store, what glorious display they would be privileged to witness. Oh, they would talk for years to come!

Suddenly, the curtain goes up. Two 7th grade girls are standing on the stage, dressed in what looks like their fathers’ old clothes. Are they hobos? Is this some strange interpretive dance number? Oh! They begin speaking! In a bad British accent. About books. Wait, what the f is going on here? Are they trying not to laugh? What is funny? Oh, they are…angry at each other? Now they are just standing there. Oh, thank god, I think it’s over.

*crickets chirping*

Finally, mercifully, someone began to clap.

Hey, we thought everyone liked obscure Monty Python. To this day, I can still remember being on that stage trying to a) talk like a man, b) talk with a British accent, and c) not laugh my ass off. Glorious.

Now, I’m not being harsh on myself here. I’ve never been a thin girl, but there’s a difference between being on the heavy side of average and being, well, fat. Which I am at this point.

I’m not the type to sit around all day stuffing donuts and bon-bons into my piehole, either. I eat a normal amount: coffee and possibly some cereal or toast for breakfast, soup or a sandwich for lunch, and a dinner that’s heavy on the veggies, with some meat and either brown rice or pasta. I very rarely snack, and when I do it’s more likely to be cherry tomatoes dipped in ranch dressing than a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. I mean, to be sure, I’m pretty sedentary, but that’s not a huge change from the norm or anything.

So what gives? At first, I was convinced it was due to the pretty potent psych meds I was on. Most of them, unfortunately, have the side effect of weight gain, and I was on high doses of 2 of them. But I’ve been off the meds for 5 months now (another issue–no insurance means the meds would cost ~$600 out of pocket–who has that kind of money?) and there’s no change. I mean, I have stopped gaining, but after a 60lb gain in 6 months, you think I would slide down the charts a little. At this point I’m more than a little worried that there’s something larger going on, because I have also been having some trouble with my lady bits. Again, no specialist until insurance. What a f-ed up health system we have.

At any rate, I have begun (well, restarted, I was on a roll for about 3 weeks til I saw something shiny and wandered off) going to the gym for ~1hr a day. Nothing fancy, just 30 mins on the elliptical and 30 mins on the treadmill. I know, some of you are probably laughing right now (”She calls that a workout? HA!”), but as I keep telling myself, it’s better than nothing.

Right??

Ok, so it used to be that I considered myself pretty tech-savvy. I mean, I worked in IT doing tech support and designing websites, and I really wasn’t the “Manager Who Really Has No Idea What’s Going On”. I was perfectly capable of going out and fixing someone’s machine in a timely fashion.

I have realized lately, however, that my knowledge of all things technical stopped evolving somewhere around 2004. I mean, I can take care of my own machine, do basic maintenance, I know how to download and install *ahem* somewhat illicit software, and I play lots of video games. But when it comes to doing something like editing a .php file, or fixing a damn WP stylesheet? Can’t do it without scouring teh internets.

The really sad part is that this used to motivate me to disappear and devour every iota of information I could find regarding a topic. Now I’m more likely to ask someone else to do it. I mean, I give the obligatory show-me-what-you-did-so-I-can-do-it-myself-next-time speech, but really? I don’t care much. What is happening to me? Is it that I’m getting old? Lazy? Becoming a Luddite?

/whimper