Nerds Need Not Apply

I’m not sure how to start this.. I certainly don’t want to offend anyone, but I really need to call it like it is, you know—a spade is a spade.

(And it's too funny not to share.)

A person can come in many different forms, smart, good-looking, level-headed, but why-oh-why do I seem to attract all the goofballs? (It takes one to know one? Birds of a feather… ?) Now don’t get me wrong, I like oddballs, but I like intelligent oddballs, the one’s that don’t fit the mold but have some knowledge and something to say, they are much more interesting.

Lately though, I’m surrounded by, sorry family (not talking about you) but you’ve got to admit, a whole bunch of mindless not-normal people I’d rather not have to deal with.

I am proud to say that all my kids and I easily find humor in the silly things we do or say… the big mistakes, or the little faux paus. In other words, we take great pleasure in making fun of each other and ourselves but never in a mean or spiteful way.

But.. I'm not so sure others see it that way. So, let me start by saying, my son Max’s girlfriend is currently living here (against my better wishes). You may remember her mousecapades from earlier entries. (January '09 entries… “Riddle Me This Batman” and “Mousetrap Mania.") (Hey, does anyone know how to do the “target” thing on this Blog site?)

She is, through no fault of her own, bi-polar and consequently on disability. And, how can I say this tactfully… oh well... a ditz. I can claim that title too, but she has a few other issues going on, like not playing with a full deck—like missing all the face cards—in the intelligence department.

Oh, she’s pretty enough.. and sweet, but so was Elsa the cow, who did her best for Jersymaid. Moo.

Anyway, her disability case is to be reviewed by a judge early next week.

Max came in the studio yesterday to ask me a small favor. “Can ‘Girlfriend’ borrow something to wear for court?”

I was just fixing to start in with a client call, but I seriously had to turn my chair around and raise my eyebrow at him. I mean, this gal is five-feet-nothing, and a bit on the plump side… her bust is much bigger than mine (well, everybody’s bust is much bigger that mine!). I’m tall and skinny, she’s… not.

“Maybe," he asked coyly, "one of your… um… Mickey Mouse shirts?”

“WHAT!? To wear to court??” (None of my shirts would fit her anyway.) “She shouldn’t wear something like that to court! Even I wouldn’t wear a tee-shirt, Mickey Mouse or otherwise, to court!"

“Well, her Dr. told he she needs to look kind of… um… nerdy.”

“Nerdy?”

"Nerdy??"

I shook my head in disbelief and started to giggle. “So you want her to wear MY clothes so she’ll look ‘nerdy?’ Are you insinuating I’m a... nerd?” I said grinning at him. “And what makes you think Mickey Mouse is... um... nerdy?”

“Well, the Dr.,” he argued, “said that one of his patients lost the claim because the gal went in all fancy with her hair and nails all done up stylish-like.” (But with our girl, it’s a bit obvious that our tax dollars are being well spent not only on make-up, nails and hair dye, but also on lovely tattoos and facial piercings. What part won’t the judge notice?)

Okay, folks, now when it comes to me, it’s true, I’m super low maintenance in the beauty and fashion department. Jeans and tee-shirts for me… call me a hick or a hippie maybe, I like to think of myself as smart, and maybe a bit eccentric, but a NERD? (Don’t I wish!)

“You want her to look ‘nerdy’ and you come to me??” I said still in disbelief, practically choking.

In the meantime, here comes Girlfriend who tries valiantly to explain the dilemma.

Too late. Now I’m laughing. “Excuse me, do you even know what the word “nerdy” means?” I seriously doubted it at this point.

Enter my goofy brother, Luckey (who's able to take and deliver a good ribbing). “Hey Luckey," I call, "Girlfriend here needs to look ‘nerdy’ for her hearing, and they came to meeee for something for her to wear!” (I really wanted to say “whacko” instead of "nerdy" but bit my tongue.)

Of course, it takes him absolutely no time to start laughing, “No, no, no… " he says pointing at me, "she’s the one you want to ask for clothes if you want to look homeless.” That really put me in hysterics.

Poor embarrassed Girlfriend, turning red-faced because Max didn’t present the case right, and probably ‘cause we're making fun, stomps off in frustration.

I announced that I really have to get to work and everyone cleared the room. Nevertheless, I was still giggling so hard as I called my client and wasn’t exactly able to contain myself for the first few minutes of our session. Thank goodness, he understood.

Anyway, I’m still shaking my head and still laughing. Please, what are these young people thinking?

Oh, and did I say she was blonde? Yeah, bleached blonde.

And, even as ditzy blond as I can be, she’s really giving our delicate recessive genes a bad rep!

My advice to her in court: “Just be yourself, Girlfriend, just open your mouth and be yourself! You’ll do fine.”

(Heaven help us! Let us pray!)