And so begins a series of posts describing my recent encounters with ASP‘s. ANNOYINGLY SMART PEOPLE, that is.
It all began with an innocent question. I (used) to make a decent living talking to people. I don’t know if you’d call it a gift, but it’s a skill I honed. I can hold
meaningful valuable mundane conversations with the acne riddled teenage checkout boy at Acme and a NASA physicist alike, and I never talk about the weather or baseball. What is the universal topic? TV shows, of course. Typically, I only need to roll through Breaking Bad, True Blood, and The Sopranos before I get a bingo.
Well, folks, there seems to be a new hybrid of cerebal mainstreamers who have started eschewing TV shows, even primetime Cable fodder, OR perhaps claiming to do so, as I found out after a couple of rounds of truth serum, a.k.a. Grey Goose.
ASP was coined in October during a family wedding. I sat next to one of my more entertaining family members, Cousin Giovanni, who I am honored to announce is a fan of this blog. Yes, that declaration had me scratching my little head. This blog? Where I rarely post, and when I do it’s about my dog’s infections and little boys who pee in glass salsa bottles? I know, I too thought he was mocking me, but the super genius people also have sensitivity chips. I think he likes that I use vivid adjectives (www.thesaurus.com, duh!). Our grandfathers were brothers, and we recognize that we share similar traits…except I don’t have a PhD AND an MD from a pair of very pricey insititutions of higher learning, although some would argue that Florida State IS the Hahvahd of the South. Oh, and I don’t dabble in Vietnamese. I feel like my grasp of Pig Latin is all this cerebral cortex can handle. Wait, wait. I can decently decipher a menu scripted in Italian.
Exhibit A: Me and The Original Super Annoyingly Smart Person, Hyphothesizing Where the Library of Alexandria is Really Located.
(Get used to the dress, you’ve seen it before and you’ll see it again. I call it my “Silence of the Lambs” dress. It has cut out panels similar to those Clarice discovered at Frederica’s house in her bingo moment of “he covets what he sees everyday”. It’s the coolest dress I own.)
So, back to the TV shows. Although listening to him describe his life work is fascinating, he probably lost me by the fourth sentence. Super sophisticated science is not my gig …I can talk radiocarbon dating, but that is the extent of my skills. Once Giovanni started throwing out terms such as cytoplasmic membranes, I knew it was time to step in and tone it down. I could only furrow my brow in false knowledge for so long. Because I have the proclivity of choosing TV/movies that most teenage boys & middle aged men like, I thought it would be fun to dissect the plot lines of one of my shows. Because we are of Italian descent, I thought fo-sho Giovanni watched the Borgias. We could discuss the ramifications of Savonarola’s destructive rage and if it’s transcended through the ages. Or, my heart that weeps for the tragic mercenary, Miccolletto, who was double crossed by his handsome lover. Nada. Giovanni then proceeds to tell me he really doesn’t watch TV. Ugh. So annoying. Everyone has to watch something!
Is there nothing worse than being accutely aware of ones … averageness? I felt akin to the Gus Gus mouse when he’s scrambling around for a kernal of corn but all the big chickens peck away at him and gobble up the golden nuggets. Not until Cinderelly scoops him up and gives him her private stash of maize is poor Gus Gus fed.
I spent the next few hours nudging and proding- and dancing and consuming more cocktails. Oh- and getting scared at the cannon o’ roses. This is the new trend in weddings. Without warning, a cannon sounds and rose petals burst into the air. With flair. Finally, finally! After many more cocktails, on top of the other cocktails, I finally coerced the answer out of Giovanni. Turns out Game of Thrones is a Mensa approved TV series.
Smarty smarty had a party, nobody came but little smarty….