Author Archives: DEB

About DEB

Meet Debby... blogger, wife, mother, good speller and funny girl. My only creative talent is blogging. Oh, and I created two human beings. So, I've got that going for me.

You Can’t Get There From Here

I was driving from an adjoining town back into the city where I’ve lived my entire life. On my way to my daughter’s house I needed to stop for a few items to make dip for a party the next day. There’s a new, spacious Kroger grocery store near her house which was my destination. On a stretch of highway I’ve driven at least once a week since I was 16, I took the wrong exit. One exit too soon. No problem, I thought. Right across the street from the bottom of the exit ramp was an entrance ramp that would take me right back to where I left off. I got back on the interstate and found out that my intended exit was not an option from this location. What? I’ve heard the expression “you can’t get there from here,” but now it’s my reality

I knew that the next exit would take me to Arkansas, but I managed to avoid that. I finally wormed my way around to Union Avenue – the elusive exit – when my husband called me. I’m normally capable of multitasking (what woman isn’t) but I struggled to carry on a conversation with my husband while simultaneously looking for the new store. Of course, I passed right by it. UGH! What should have been a 20 minute drive has now become an hourlong trek. After my unplanned tour of Memphis, I finally arrived at the mall-sized Kroger. I don’t know how I missed it. The parking lot was so massive that my walk from car to store qualified as a workout. On the bright side, I knew that a store this size was sure to have the three simple ingredients I needed to make dip. Except that it didn’t. When I didn’t find my first item, I thought I could improvise. Then I went looking for item number 2. Sold out. There was no point in looking for the last thing I needed.

Perhaps it’s not that you can’t get there from here, but rather you don’t need to bother getting there.

So I took the hike back to my car and drove to a very small, very old Kroger that will surely be put out of business by the YUGE new grocery store nearby. I scored a spot close to the door in the small parking lot. I found all three of the things I needed and was on my way within minutes. After all the chaos, I did forget to pick up a fourth item that my daughter requested, but…

Yes, to answer your question, I did buy myself some chocolate. Order has been restored.

Moving Day Approaches

I haven’t posted a blog in a few weeks. I’m sure that both of my readers have wondered where I’ve been! We’ve decided to move and every spare minute has been devoted to packing up the things worth keeping and getting rid of the rest. The more time I spend on “the rest” the more I wonder why I’ve had it all this time. As moving day approaches, I have to become less sentimental and more practical about what stays and what goes.

When we got married, fifteen years ago, I moved into my husband’s house and sold mine. With two fully furnished houses, you can imagine how much stuff we had. The bulk of my stuff was boxed up and put in a storage shed, never to be thought about again. Now I’m sifting through it all. Let me tell you the kinds of things I held onto all this time…

Skinny clothes

A whole box of clothes that didn’t fit me when I moved here but I hung on to them, waiting for the day that I’d magically lose weight. I have heard that weight loss is a real-life possibility. I’ve read about it and I’ve seen it on tv.

“No dieting or exercise and she lost 17 inches!” This is code for “she lost one inch but we measured her in 17 places and added them up.”

Weight loss may be a reality for some, but it doesn’t happen to me. So, the clothes have to go. If I had donated the skinny clothes when they first became too skinny, someone could have acquired some nice stylish clothes. But now I’ll have to donate them to a museum of 90s fashion.

Kids stuff

It wasn’t hard to get rid of the skinny clothes, but I can’t part with my daughters’ drawings from elementary school. Or the toys that kept them busy and playing together for hours. Or their favorite books that they couldn’t put down. Or the little pink dress they each wore home from the hospital. Or their little baby blankets. Or their jerseys from the various sports they played. I’ll pack these things and move them with me one more time – using the excuse that I’m saving them for my grandchildren. I know my non-existent granddaughter well enough to know that she would love to have a glow-in-the-dark American Girl sleeping bag.

If I don’t get grandchildren, then my daughters will have to decide what to do with all of their old things when I die. That’s what they get for not giving me grandchildren! 

Every Disney Movie Ever Made on VHS

Why did I store these treasures in the hottest place on Earth?! I don’t know if they’ll still play. I can’t put them in the VCR to find out if they work, because it could ruin it, And where would I find another VCR in 2017? I don’t want to part with them because they represent the countless hours my kids and I spent watching them. Maybe I could borrow your VCR to see if they still play.

Miscellaneous Crap

As I went through each box, determining the value of their load, I found things that never should have made their way in. Grocery receipts. Old calendars. And why do I still have one of these?

The Boyfriend Box

The saddest part of my purging adventure in the shed was finding The Boyfriend Box. This box contained everything that every boyfriend gave me during the eight years I was single. Three boyfriends, one box, no bigger than a half a loaf of bread. It’s sad that it all fit in such a tiny box. There were letters and cards, movie tickets, a watch case, a few good memories and a whole lotta lies. That box went directly to the garbage where it should have gone decades ago.

But don’t let that bring you down. I get to walk out of this storage shed and into the house with the best boyfriend-turned-husband a girl could ask for. We’re moving to our happy place and have many years of happiness ahead of us.

 

Jenny: A Story About a Girl Dog

If you’re a regular reader of this blog, then you know all about my dogs. It has been less than two years since I wrote about losing Buddy, our black lab (Read here). Now, our chocolate lab Jenny, has left us and joined Buddy. She was our only girl dog and she was more girl than dog. Jenny was surrounded by boy dogs and her motto was “Boys Are Stupid!”

Buddy’s new friend

Buddy was a one-year-old puppy with only an old, worn out lab to play with when we decided that the puppy needed a puppy. That’s how Jenny came into our lives. She was named after Jenny in Forrest Gump but they had little in common. Our Jenny was not blond, nor did she get mixed up in drugs. But then again, they did have some things in common. She loved a boy (dog) she’d known her whole life and had his baby (two of them, actually). They were like peas and carrots. And she did love to dangle.

Jenny and Buddy

Peas and carrots

Jenny dangling

More dangling

While the stupid boys (her words, not mine) were rolling in stinky things, Jenny loved to smell flowers and scented lotions. There was one particular sunscreen that she loved so much, she’d lick it right off of you if she had the chance.

smelling flowers

She always sat with her feet crossed, like a lady. Even on her last day…

real girl dog

She was a lady

When Jenny was much too young, she and Buddy “eloped” in the back yard. This lone encounter resulted in two baby boy dogs. One looked like Jenny, the other like Buddy. Jenny took one look at them and said, “Great, more stupid boys.” She did grow to love them. So much so, that she was very mad at me when I gave them away.

JJ and BJ

Jenny’s babies

Jenny had dog beds all over the house. Her favorite was a dark brown bed that we kept in the kitchen. She blended in with it so well that we often couldn’t find her anywhere only to find that she was camouflaged in her big brown bed. I never caught her doing it, but she moved that bed around and rearranged the pillows all by herself. I don’t know how.

Her second favorite spot was in the “dog room.” Yes, my dogs are so spoiled that they have their own room. There’s a kennel in there and she slept on the inside while the boy dogs were relegated to the top. It’s sort of a doggie duplex. After she was gone, I pulled her bedding out of the kennel to wash everything. Besides the two lambskin mats, there was a matching robe. A robe! My dog had a robe in her cage! Where did she get a robe? Did she go shopping? I’ve never seen it before. It’s not mine. I have NO clue.

dog robe

Jenny’s robe

Jenny didn’t like loud noises like thunder or the smoke alarm. Despite the fact that she was a dog, she hated barking. While the boy dogs barked at any and everything, Jenny wanted as far away from that noise as she could get. If she wanted in or out, she would shake her head so that her collar jingled. If we didn’t hear her, she would eventually resort to a bark. If we heard a bark, we knew that she’d already been trying to get our attention for a while and we’d better move quickly. She trained us very well.

Jenny was my husband’s favorite dog. Unfortunately, he was out of town when we lost her. He had to say goodbye to her on Facetime. I really hoped that she could make it until he got back, but she just couldn’t hold out any longer.

Eddie, the Jack Russell, and our last remaining dog, loved Jenny like she was his mother. He took care of cleaning her face every day. Eddie and I spent her last night next to her on the floor. He knew what was coming. She died on a Sunday morning. That night, when Eddie wanted to go outside, he shook his head and made his collar jingle. He had never done that before. For the next few days, every time he ate, he laid two pieces of food on the floor. I suppose these are Eddie’s tributes to his mama. I know that he misses her.

 

I like to think that Jenny has found Buddy and they’re on a lake somewhere, together.

 

 

Have You Heard Of This? You Will Now!

Has this ever happened to you? You’ve just heard of something for the first time, then suddenly you see it everywhere. You’re not the only one who’s had this experience. It happens often enough that it even has a name. It’s called “Baader Meinhof phenomenon.”

Imagine that you’re sitting at a stoplight and notice the car in front of you is an Isuzu Ascender. You’re thinking to yourself that you’ve never heard of this vehicle. You’re wondering if Isuzu is even still around. Then you remember all those Joe Isuzu commercials from the 90s and wonder whatever happened to that guy. Next thing you know, someone is honking at you because you’re sitting a green light daydreaming about decades old car ads.

Later, you meet a friend for lunch. He’s sorry he’s late, but was tied up at the mechanic’s shop getting his Isuzu Ascender repaired. The next day, your sister calls and wants you to look at a used car she’s thinking about buying. It’s an Isuzu Ascender. What?!  This is what they call Baader Meinhof phenomenon.

If you have never heard of Baader Meinhof before, you will now. It happened to me shortly after the first time I heard this peculiar term. I heard it on a sitcom, of all places, then a few days later heard it again from a friend. The fact that this phenomenon exists is interesting enough, but when the name of the phenomenon becomes the phenomenon… that’s just weird!

My husband and I were discussing buying a new bed and he mentioned the purple mattress. I’d never heard of it so I Googled it. Now the dang thing is everywhere! The purple mattress ad pops up every time I read an article on my phone. It shows up on the games I play, in my Facebook newsfeed. Although, I’m not actually sure if this is Baader Meinhof or the government selling my search information. Who knows?

However, I may have found a glitch in the system. Here’s yet another car story…

My daughter and I were walking out of a movie theatre when when a car caught my eye. It looked like a station wagon and an SUV had a baby. My daughter tells me that these are called “crossovers.” I looked at the name on the back of the car and stored it in my swiss cheese brain. Later, when I wanted to look it up and do some research, I couldn’t remember the make of the car. Why wasn’t Baader Meinhof kicking in and showing it to me on tv commercials and in my neighbors’ driveway? Was it because I couldn’t remember the name? Apparently, this phenomenon doesn’t phenom unless you have a good memory.

I did remember, however, that the car was a Subaru. So… guess what I started seeing everywhere? You guessed it. Subarus everywhere I went. Just not that Subaru. Finally, a few weeks after that first sighting, I spotted a little baby SUV/Station wagon on the road. I bobbed and weaved through traffic to catch up with it. Crosstrek… yeah, that’s it.  Now that I know the name, I expect Baader Meinhof to take effect and I’ll start seeing them everywhere. But will you see them everywhere too because you read this? We’ll see.

One more completely weird thing before I go… While searching for a photo about Baader Meinhof phenomenon, I found the picture below. What are the odds of this?

Lost Remote


We recently lost our tv remote. When I say “we,” I mean me. I was the only human in the house when it went missing, but I feel better pretending it was a group effort. I knew the lost remote couldn’t have gone far, because I had barely moved all day. I had just used it. I was binge watching a show on Netflix. If you’re familiar with Netflix, you know that it automatically shows episode after episode without you having to do a thing. But every now and then Netflix gets all insecure and wants to make sure you’re still paying attention. It asks “Are you still watching?”  It reminds me of my kids when they were little… “Mommy, look at me. Look what I can do!”

I had just reassured Netflix that I was in fact still watching when I got up to let the dogs out. When I returned, I wanted to rewind a few seconds to see if I’d missed anything, but couldn’t find the remote anywhere.  I’d been sitting in my husband’s recliner the whole time. Usually, he’s in his chair and I’m on the couch. But he wasn’t home and his chair is closer to the heater, so that’s where I was camped out for the day.

I knew it wouldn’t be long before Netflix would need my validation. I had to find the remote before it asked me, “Do you still love me? Am I still pretty?”

lost remote

Last known location

I looked under the chair and in the chair. I shoved my arm between the seat and the arm of the chair. Back when I was a kid, this was my primary source of income. If the ice cream man was coming down our street, I headed straight to the couch and dived for lost change. This time, there was no money. There was also no remote. I found lint and dog hair. Then I had to do the other side with the same hairy results. (Remind me to get the vacuum cleaner out as soon as we’re finished here). I looked all over the house, even though I knew it never left the chair. I looked in the kitchen and bathroom just in case I carried the lost remote with me and left it there. When my husband got home he looked in all the same places. He even looked in my car. As if!

For the next few days, we used the television the old fashioned way. Living like the Amish, we changed the channel and volume manually.  Then one night, the tv was acting really weird. It would randomly pause for no reason, change channels by itself, just basically had a mind of its own. Then I noticed that every time the tv did something strange, my husband was leaning back, readjusting his chair, or fidgeting. I knew the lost remote had to be in his chair somewhere. So we lifted the chair and shook it. Suddenly the remote fell out of the chair on to the floor.

They say something isn’t really lost until Mama can’t find it, but this Mama couldn’t find it. So I thought it was really lost. There’s got to be a lesson in there somewhere… Never Give Up. Don’t Quit. If you believe it, you can achieve it. I don’t know, but we’re back to living in the 21st century and all is right with the world.

National Grammar Day: A Day to Talk Pretty

National Grammar Day

March 4th is National Grammar Day… the perfect day to write a blogpost about my love of proper English and spelling. When I’m writing this blog, I think about the readers in the UK who follow me. I wonder if they know that I’m actually spelling things correctly in American English. It’s their language, but we hijacked it and changed a few things. I want them to know that I honor the English language, even if I don’t honour it.

When I think about all the strange rules of English and how they came to be, I picture men in white wigs sitting a large wooden table thinking up cockamamie ideas to confuse and distract us (much like the politicians of today).

I am thankful to have grown up speaking English because I could never have learned it as a second language. It’s difficult at best with all of it’s rules, exceptions to rules, and silent letters. How do you teach someone how to pronounce ‘ough’? There’s tough, though, through and thought. Four different pronunciations for the same group of letters. The exceptions to the “I before E except after C” rule are many… seize, vein, weird, their, heir, feisty, foreign, leisure, either, neither, heinous, heist, height. I could go on, but you get the point. Speaking of height… “heighth” is not a word. I’ve heard “heighth and width” more times than I’d like.

I’m convinced that good spellers are not allowed to make memes:

Paid, not payed

Laid, not layed

There’s no way, in one post, to write about all the ways that our language is being butchered on a daily basis. However, lately I have noticed an increase in a couple of misuses. One) I keep seeing “could of” and “would of,” instead of “could have” and “would have.” Maybe because “could of” sounds similar to the contraction “could’ve” but it’s still wrong. Two) suddenly people are confusing “a part” and “apart.” These are actually opposites. “I’d really like to be apart of that club” means you want to be separated from it. I think what you want is to be a part of it. This meme explains it in a much better way…

My not so “smart” phone thinks it should add an apostrophe to pluralize a last name. NO! They’re the Smiths, not the Smith’s. Unless the Smiths own something which would be the Smith’s thing. I want to send a Christmas card to the The Smiths, not to their possessions!

One of my biggest pet peeves is that the dictionary eventually gives up and adds non-words due to rampant misuse. I predict that it won’t be long before the contraction “you’re” completely dies and it replaced by “your” simply because so many people don’t use the correct word.

There was a time when you could convince someone that a word is not a word because it was not in the dictionary… “Ain’t ain’t a word because it ain’t in the dictionary.” Those days are gone. Not only can you find ain’t in the dictionary but also irregardless and orientate. Irregardless is a non-word that has been so overused that is now considered to be interchangeable with the correct word “regardless” according to the Oxford Dictionary.

To summarize: On National Grammar Day, I’d like to orient you to proper spelling regardless of the multiple misspelled posts that you’re going to see on social media. I want you to set yourself apart from those who could’ve learned proper grammar if only they had paid attention.

 

 

The Perfect Husband (My Personal “This Is Us”)

It’s that time of year again… our anniversary. I’ve written about all the frogs I had to kiss on the road to finding my husband (The long and winding road). I’ve also told you the story of how we met (Our story). Like many of you, I’ve become a fan of the show “This Is Us” and I’ve come to realize that Rebecca isn’t the only one with a perfect husband. I’m living my own personal This Is Us story.

If you watch this show, then you have heard Mandy Moore’s character, Rebecca, refer to her husband Jack, as perfect. (Jack is perfectly played by the wonderful Milo Ventimiglia.) Rebecca doesn’t say this flippantly in that way that we throw words around without meaning them or even thinking about them. No, she backs it up with examples.

My Jack is called Joe. And he is also perfect.

I came into this marriage with two teenage girls and a dog. In both cases, you would never know that these had once been mine, not his. The dog fell immediately in love with Joe and I became some woman he used to know. The girls are his stepdaughters, but he would never tell you that. By word and deed, they are as much his daughters as they are mine. He would do anything for them and for me. He has done far more for us than we have for him. I could never list all of the rescues, repairs, and lessons he has provided for my daughters. I could never tally up all the hours he has spent unselfishly doing things for us. And I could never repay him.

Those Three Little Words

Joe knows how important it is to say those three little words… “You’re not fat.”  Years ago, I was watching a show about a woman who weighed several hundred pounds. I asked him if he would leave me if I got that big. He said, “Are you kidding? I’d marry you all over again!” Now that’s true love.

Babies and dogs love him. Joe almost always knows the right thing to say. He will do anything to avoid a fight… so we rarely fight. I certainly can’t complain about that. I’ve never heard anyone say anything bad about him. He’s a great gift giver. He serves his country in the Air Force and serves his city as a firefighter. That’s TWO superhero uniforms he wears.

Jack Pearson (from This is Us) believes that you find your soulmate, you get married, you stay together until you die. Period. Joe is much the same way. There’s no giving up. For years we had a clipping posted on our bulletin board that said “Period. Plain and Simple.” because that’s Joe’s philosophy. Things are simple. No need to complicate them.

We (the teenagers, the dog and I) moved into the house where Joe had once lived alone and we immediately filled it up! We considered moving into something bigger, but we put it off so long that eventually the kids grew up and left and we no longer needed more space. Now I’ve been living here for 15 years and that’s the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere. This man has brought a stability into my life that never existed before. Say what you will about change being good… I have loved having a steady, predictable life for a change (no pun intended).

Maybe “perfect” is too strong a word. Of course he has a fault or two. For instance… I can’t get an honest opinion from him when I want to know if I look ok before I leave the house. No matter what I look like, he’ll tell me I look beautiful. Any imperfection he may have is far outweighed by the good. Even if he’s not perfect, he’s perfect for me.

Happy anniversary, Joe!

 

 

 

TV Theme Songs

I am fortunate to have grown up during a time when TV shows had theme songs. The shows from before my time had great, catchy tunes but no lyrics – i.e., I Love Lucy, The Andy Griffith Show, Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie. TV shows today don’t have songs. They have a identifying sounds like the Donk-Donk of Law and Order. But in the seventies and eighties, TV theme songs held just as many life lessons as the shows themselves, even those “very special episodes.”

From Mary Tyler Moore we learned that we could turn the world on with a smile. We could take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile. Many say it was her character’s single-woman-with-a-career that made the show so iconic, but I say that song influenced us just as much. By then end of the opening credits, we knew that we were gonna make it after all.

We learned that it takes Different Strokes to move the world. From Growing Pains, we know that as long as we’ve got each other, we can take anything that comes our way. Who’s the Boss offered us a brand new life around the bend. Golden Girls taught us to say thank you for being a friend. You hung out at Cheers because everybody knew your name. And their troubles were all the same. Full House showed us everywhere you look, there’s a hand to hold on to. The Jeffersons made us want a piece of the pie, so that we could move on up to the east side. The Love Boat showed us that love could be exciting and new. Let it flow and it flows back to you. We were lucky to have Good Times. Long before I had a crush on a young republican named Alex P. Keaton, Family Ties told me that there ain’t nothing we can’t love each other through. Sha-la-la-la.

Laverne and Shirley could have been a big influence with their “making our dreams come true” message, but we were all busy trying to figure out what they said before that. Arm in arm, playing hopscotch and chanting jibberish that we couldn’t understand. We had no search engines back then to get answers regarding our misheard lyrics…

Is it Po-TAY-to, Po-TAH-to, Positive Pepper Incorporated? 

No, it’s The Easel, The Otter, Hops in Pressure Incorporated. 

You’re both wrong. It’s The Measels, The Nozzle, Call the Wrecker Incorporated

As it turns out, they were saying “shlemiel, schlemazel, hasenpfeffer incorporated.” I had heard of hasenpfeffer in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. But since none of the kids in my neighborhood were fluent in Yiddish, shlemiel and schlemazel went right over our heads. According to my research, the first one is someone who is a born loser and the other is someone who can’t catch a break. Those are people who would definitely want their dreams to come true, for me and you.

Even in the 90s, there were still some great tv theme songs. My favorite was FRIENDS. Even now, if I hear it… No one told you life was gonna be this way … I have to do the CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP. You do it too, don’t you?

My hats off to all those great tv theme songs….

 

Food, Glorious Food!

Everybody has a stumbling block and mine is weight loss. I’m torn between wanting to lose weight and my love of food. I must admit, my love of food usually wins. Despite what Weight Watchers wants us to believe, a lot of things taste better than skinny feels.

Several years ago, on the day after Thanksgiving, I posted on social media that I was eating leftover pie for breakfast. A not so friendly “friend” commented, “Do you not care about yourself?” As a matter of fact, I like myself SO much that I think I deserve pie for breakfast! Where does this idea come from that if you eat, you must hate yourself?

For as long as I can remember, food has been a reward. My family didn’t eat out much when I was growing up, but on special occasions, we went out for pizza. If my softball team won a game, we’d all go get ice cream afterward. Food is not a punishment or sign of self-loathing. Did your mother ever say to you, “You sit there and eat that cake until your attitude improves”? Did your dad say, “That’s it! You’re grounded. You’ll be eating extra helpings for the rest of the week!”?

Down here in the South, we show love with food. My great-grandmother always encouraged her guests to have an extra slice of pie and would be hurt if they turned her down. To say no would be rejecting her love. Maybe that’s why I don’t deprive myself of the foods I love.

I’ve written about my happy fat life before (read here ) and not much has changed. I’m still sabotaging my own weight loss. I’d rather eat chocolate than chicken. I prefer potatoes and pasta over parsnips and purple cabbage. Bread is better than broccoli. Carrot cake beats carrots. I could go on like this all day.

So when you see me carrying a few (ok, more than just a few) extra pounds, don’t jump to any negative conclusions. I’ve just been showing myself a lotta love for a lotta years.

I Don’t Want To Be Pretty!

In my family, anything you say can and will live on forever. When my oldest daughter was little, she had unruly hair that could only be tamed with a barrette. But, she didn’t want the barrette. So it became a two person job. One of us would distract her like a rodeo clown while the other wrestled the hair accessory into position. The distraction would continue until she’d forgotten that her hair was being forced to comply, then we could get on with our day. One time, I don’t remember who, but someone told her how pretty she looked with the barrette in her hair. She ripped it out, threw it on the ground and yelled, “I DON’T WANT TO BE PRETTY!”

Fortunately or unfortunately for her, she’s still pretty. No barrette required. That was nearly 30 years ago, but we still quote it to this day. We say it as a joke on days that we don’t feel like doing hair and make up. But I also say it as a true statement. I don’t care about being pretty, maybe because it’s never really been an option, but I’d rather be seen as smart and/or funny. Ok, leave out the “or.” I’d rather be smart and funny.

I’ve always been average looking. A handful of people might have found me pretty at some point in my life, but there’s an equal and opposite handful of people who find me repulsive. Overall, I don’t think I register with most people at either end of the pretty/ugly scale. I’m just sitting in the middle keeping the scale balanced.

I discovered in high school that boys were intimidated by pretty girls, afraid to talk to them. I had a slew of boy friends, not to be confused with boyfriends. Because of my non-intimidating appearance, boys talked to me and I gained an insight into the male species that pretty girls will never have. This may be why Halle Berry has had three short-lived marriages and I’m approaching my 15th anniversary.

We expect the beautiful to stay that way forever.  We’re always disappointed when our favorite attractive celebrities start to fade. Carrie Fisher had to tell her fans to stop debating about whether she had aged well or not, whether she was still hot. The pretty have that burden. But for us average looking girls, aging doesn’t taking anything away from us. When I run into old friends, they can say with all honesty “you’re just as pretty as you were back in high school.”

Of course a person can be beautiful and smart, or attractive and funny, or even all three. But how surprised are we when that actually happens? When you find out that some pretty celebrity graduated from Harvard, do you roll your eyes and assume that she was coddled by starstruck professors? I don’t know about you but if I read an interview of a gorgeous actor and he uses a few big words, I’m all “oooh, I didn’t know he was smart too!”

Don’t worry if you’re not pretty or handsome or beautiful or good-looking. Beauty fades but smart lasts a lifetime, or at least until senility sets in. And funny is forever.