Queen Rando

The other day I met with a student who is so incredibly passive and shut-down that he hardly seems to notice his own existence.  Because I'd had a really exhausting week and was approaching a state of full-blown compassion fatigue (the newfangled way for social servants to describe what was formerly known as burnout), I was particularly frustrated by his indifference and complete lack of self-awareness.  At one point during our meeting, he informed me that he didn't know what his own feet look like.  And here is what I said to him:


"You don't know what your feet look like?  What if there were some crisis where everyone had their feet taken off and put in separate boxes, and then you had to search through all of the boxes to find your feet?  What would you do?"

Hmmm...are those my feet?

Because this young man has known me for over a year now and therefore is used to these absurd hypotheticals, he responded, "I'd take someone else's feet."  To which I replied, "That wouldn't work, because we need our own feet to balance us!"  And he said, "No, I'd be able to balance on someone else's feet."


Thankfully, I was able to stop myself short before countering his argument, as I realized I was power struggling with an 18 year-old about a completely nonsensical eventuality that I had put forth in the first place.  But here's the thing, folks - I do that sort of thing all the freakin' time.  I am the Queen of Random Absurdity.

This is my mascot, Gir - an alien robot in a dog costume

One of the first times I remember resorting to a ludicrous conversational insertion was during college.  I was feeling sad and lonely and was talking on the phone with a dear friend of mine, who, in an effort to counter my state of self-loathing, reminded me that she loved me.  Then we had this exchange:


Me:  Do you really?


Friend:  Yes, I do.  I love you so much I would kiss you.


Me:  You would?


Friend:  Yes, I would.


Me:  Would you kiss me even if my mouth were a gigantic eyeball?


Friend:  [silence]


Me:  [expectant silence]


Friend:  [more silence]


Me:  [slowly-becoming-anxious silence]


Friend:  Yes.  I would kiss you even if your mouth were a gigantic eyeball.


So that was nice.  But why, WHY would I make my friend speculate about that eventuality?  Why the fuck would my mouth ever be a gigantic eyeball?

My friend is clearly a better person than I am.  I would never kiss that.

Several years after that bizarre conversation, I was talking to another friend about balance.  He said that he considered himself to be a balanced person (which, in my defense, was a completely inaccurate statement, but there are normal ways to challenge people's flawed self-perceptions).  In response to his assertion, I informed him that he was, in fact, as balanced as a seesaw with a hippo on one end and a chicken on the other.  Then, to illustrate my point more clearly, I supplemented my comment with this lovely drawing:

Unfortunately, I don't just say and draw stupid things.  I also do them.  Case(s) in point:


I used to receive a Sierra Club calendar for Christmas every year.  About 10 years back, after I got my calendar for the new year, I took my old calendar off of the wall and went through the two calendars month by month so I could transfer people's birthdays from the old calendar to the new one.  After completing that task, I hung the old calendar back on the wall and promptly recycled the new calendar.


On another occasion, I was attempting to organize myself financially (i.e., pay bills; record receipts; balance my checkbook) and, at the end of my organizational venture, I ended up writing a check to my credit card company for the balance of what was (supposed to be) left in my checking account, rather than the $125 or whatever it was I owed for the month.  For the next couple of months, I had to put every purchase on my credit card, because the credit card company had all of my money.

Although I suppose there are dumber things I could've done...

Considering what a total weirdo I can be, I am very grateful that I found a partner who can tolerate my randomness.  In fact, he flows with Queen Rando like a sailboat cutting through smooth water on a perfectly breezy day.


My husband and I met as housemates.  We lived with a woman who, for the sake of anonymity, I'll refer to as Zuno.  One night while my husband (who was still just a housemate, and who I'll refer to as Joe Rodeo) was out, Zuno and I had a talk about how incredibly flexible he is and his ability to just go with whatever is presented to him, even if it doesn't really make any sense.  Later that evening, I told Zuno a story which concluded with the line:  "That's what happens when you put a bunch of monkeys on an island."  That silly line inspired us to try a little experiment:  the next time we were chatting with Joe Rodeo, one of us would insert that line into the conversation to see how he would respond.


The next day, the three of us were sitting around chatting, and this conversation ensued:


Joe Rodeo:  But we all got back okay.  So it turned out fine.


Me:  Well, that's what happens when you put a bunch of monkeys on an island.


Joe Rodeo:  (emphatically) I know.


[Dramatic pause & exchange of bewildered looks between Zuno & me]


Zuno:  Wait...what?


Joe Rodeo:  What?


Zuno:  What do you know?


Joe Rodeo:  That that's what happens.


Zuno:  What's what happens?


Joe Rodeo:  That's what happens...when you put a bunch of monkeys on an island.


Zuno:  But what are you talking about?


Joe Rodeo:  I don't know.  What are you talking about?


There ya have it, folks.  Therein lies the catalyst for the lasting bond between Al Etreum and Joe Rodeo.


And in conclusion:

Awwww...

That's what happens, y'all.  Monkey-dove love.