The Day The Earth Stood Still

Note: By "Day", I mean Era and by "Earth", I mean Ninja Kitty's world. Ever feel like you're stuck in 1983? OK, so that still wouldn't encompass the bits and pieces since then that my feeble brain has somehow managed to retain, but bear with me for a moment. First of all, I only recently (read: this morning) realized that it's no longer cool to pull up to a traffic light blaring Ice-Cube (sweet merciful jesus, he has the neatest angry eyebrows) and smoking a menthol barbie tampon (Misty brand, for those of you interested). Who dropped the ball on sending me that memo?

As I sit here taking an irresponsible trip down memory lane, it dawns on me that every last song playing on my iPod is pre-1996 or so. Coincidentally or not, that's the year I graduated high school. Yeah, yeah, still wet behind the f*cking ears and such - but it makes me wonder why the hell time seemingly froze for me at that point. Was it some sort of traumatic head injury? Perhaps my dabblings with illegal substances? ***Speaking of memos - as your attorney, I advise you to warn your loved ones against the apparent dangers of snorting crushed up Smarties off elementary school carpet!***

Try not to misunderstand me, I love where I am in my life - mostly, anyway. It seems corporate America ain't worth crossing an ocean for, but I have a phenomenal family and a super fantastic support network of friends and acquaintances. I've come a long way, Baby. And yet, somewhere in that Summer of 1996, my brain took a mental picture and shelled out beau coup bucks bronzing, then framing the damn thing. With the exception of the occasional flashback to, say, January of 2006, everything else is a blur. Remind me to write a letter to Congress expressing my discontent with an article I happened upon stating coffee drinkers are less likely to fall into the depths of Alzheimer's. Have I already entered into my "Golden Years"? Is this a common phenomenon?...... OR...... genetics?

A.... *cough*.... friend of a friend of a friend of mine who I may or may not be related to (Spoiler Alert: By the end of this rambling nonsense, Annie will most likely reveal it is, in fact, her uncle ;) ) is quite literally frozen in 1952. He or she... oh wait, I already gave that part away and he hasn't had a sex change that I've been notified of.... quite literally can remember every face, name, event and specific detail of that year. The dilemma? Not much since. Day in and day out he goes through the motions of existing. Clearly, much has happened in the almost 60 years since then. His mind can process the new people (such as Yours Truly) who have touched down on the planet in the meantime, and yet they simply overcrowd his 1952 residence. I've lost sleep on more than one occasion with the fear that this may be my destiny. Luckily, I surround myself with those who possess enough testicular fortitude to slap me around a bit when it becomes apparent I may be mentally slipping off into the cosmos. *SLAP*! Incidentally, I've also heard tasty little rumors that taking showers of unicorn tears is a handy deterrent....

Ahhh the mind. What a terrible thing to waste, no? Well, I raise my glass (which The Suits, here at work, no doubt frown upon) to memories, and those sane enough to leave them in the past. Cheers!

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Kitty

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

The Day The Earth Stood Still

Note: By "Day", I mean Era and by "Earth", I mean Ninja Kitty's world. Ever feel like you're stuck in 1983? OK, so that still wouldn't encompass the bits and pieces since then that my feeble brain has somehow managed to retain, but bear with me for a moment. First of all, I only recently (read: this morning) realized that it's no longer cool to pull up to a traffic light blaring Ice-Cube (sweet merciful jesus, he has the neatest angry eyebrows) and smoking a menthol barbie tampon (Misty brand, for those of you interested). Who dropped the ball on sending me that memo?

As I sit here taking an irresponsible trip down memory lane, it dawns on me that every last song playing on my iPod is pre-1996 or so. Coincidentally or not, that's the year I graduated high school. Yeah, yeah, still wet behind the f*cking ears and such - but it makes me wonder why the hell time seemingly froze for me at that point. Was it some sort of traumatic head injury? Perhaps my dabblings with illegal substances? ***Speaking of memos - as your attorney, I advise you to warn your loved ones against the apparent dangers of snorting crushed up Smarties off elementary school carpet!***

Try not to misunderstand me, I love where I am in my life - mostly, anyway. It seems corporate America ain't worth crossing an ocean for, but I have a phenomenal family and a super fantastic support network of friends and acquaintances. I've come a long way, Baby. And yet, somewhere in that Summer of 1996, my brain took a mental picture and shelled out beau coup bucks bronzing, then framing the damn thing. With the exception of the occasional flashback to, say, January of 2006, everything else is a blur. Remind me to write a letter to Congress expressing my discontent with an article I happened upon stating coffee drinkers are less likely to fall into the depths of Alzheimer's. Have I already entered into my "Golden Years"? Is this a common phenomenon?...... OR...... genetics?

A.... *cough*.... friend of a friend of a friend of mine who I may or may not be related to (Spoiler Alert: By the end of this rambling nonsense, Annie will most likely reveal it is, in fact, her uncle ;) ) is quite literally frozen in 1952. He or she... oh wait, I already gave that part away and he hasn't had a sex change that I've been notified of.... quite literally can remember every face, name, event and specific detail of that year. The dilemma? Not much since. Day in and day out he goes through the motions of existing. Clearly, much has happened in the almost 60 years since then. His mind can process the new people (such as Yours Truly) who have touched down on the planet in the meantime, and yet they simply overcrowd his 1952 residence. I've lost sleep on more than one occasion with the fear that this may be my destiny. Luckily, I surround myself with those who possess enough testicular fortitude to slap me around a bit when it becomes apparent I may be mentally slipping off into the cosmos. *SLAP*! Incidentally, I've also heard tasty little rumors that taking showers of unicorn tears is a handy deterrent....

Ahhh the mind. What a terrible thing to waste, no? Well, I raise my glass (which The Suits, here at work, no doubt frown upon) to memories, and those sane enough to leave them in the past. Cheers!

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