I love smart people. I love the way I feel when I am around them. It broadens my vocabulary, and I can just feel the little synapses fire faster. I'm lovin' every minute of it.
Lots of smart people go to my church. My parents go there. My husband's parents go there. Need I say more? (I know what side my bread is buttered on. See how smart I am!?!) Oh yes, I suppose you're right. Smart people are bustin' out all over the place. Everywhere I go there's another one. And another one. Not only are they smart, but they're also funny. You just can't beat smart and funny.
Wherefore smart, funny people congregate, therefore also are geeks. Because geek = smart + funny. Oh, and lest ye be confused: Geeks are not nerds. Oh, no. My husband taught me this. Nerds are geeks who dress funny. Funny weird, not funny ha-ha. Geeks have some semblance of fashion sense albeit subdued.
So there's this one geek at my church who's very proud to be a geek. He and my husband's pet name for each other is, in fact, Geek. They're so cute together. Them and their man love. 8-|
At any rate, this geek shall remain nameless...but you know who you are. This geek this morning at church had completely unbeknownst to me put together an eloquent video presentation about some geeky thing he had just implemented. The first thing I see on the screen is a picture of me and my family. I knew we were in for it. Oh, but no, not we, come to find out, I was the one who was in for it. Baby, was I ever.
This whole thing was about an email list that I'd conjured up so our church peeps could connect with each other more readily when need be. Since I'd started this whole mess, the Geek thought he should therefore yank my chain a little. He loves to do this. It makes his geeky little sense of humor soar.
Anywho, in the course of his geekazoid demonstration, he decidedly states that at home, I screen my calls. I pipe up in my best theatrical voice and say, "I do not." 'Cause I don't, you know. It's not my thang. I don't have caller ID. I gots no idea who's calling me when that little ol' phone rings. I'm just glad that it's ringing. It means that somebody wants me. Somebody from somewhere wants to talk to little ol' me. Me. Me. Me.
So when my phone rings, I get this adrenaline rush knowing for the briefest of moments even if it is only to fetch the phone for somebody else, I am, in fact, needed. When the phone rings, like some Pavlovian freak, I answer it.
There, Geek, are you happy? I blogged about you. Just like you wanted me to. I'm here for you, man.
link: anita ward, loverboy (no, not you, geek, the band called loverboy. i have my own geek. i don't need another one.)
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