It's What I do

I ask a lot of questions.

I am curious about everything and everyone. There is no subject about which I don’t want to know more. If someone tells me someone he knows had a baby, I am not satisfied with mere weight and sex information. I need to know when labor started, how long it lasted, if the mother plans on breastfeeding, where I can send cloth diaper info, what names she called her partner during delivery and which famous person the placenta most closely resembled.

I would make an excellent lawyer except that...


a) I can’t afford law school 
b) I think everyone is guilty; and 
c) I would spend more time in prison for contempt than someone serving a sentence for keeping body parts in his fridge.*

This isn't a new phenomenon. I've always been this way. When I was in grade three or four, our class studied hermit crabs as part of a science unit. I could not know enough about these creatures. Where did they sleep? How long did they live? What do they eat? Why were they called “hermits?” What was a “hermit,” anyway? Was the guy who lived in an empty dumpster behind Kentucky Fried Chicken and wore a crocheted beer can hat a hermit? Where-did-you-get-these-crabs-Can-I-take-one-home-for-the-weekend-How-was-our-changing-ecology-and-climate-affecting-their-life-cycles-and-reproductivity-andohalso-is-Canadian-Wildlife-Protective-Services-aware-they-were-in-our-possession?

Our teacher said he need to leave the classroom “to check.” Even at eight years old I was pretty sure that was the teacher code for “I’m going to do whiskey shots in the staff room.”

No one seemed surprised when we got a supply teacher for the afternoon, because Mr. C had a “head-ache,”and I was sent to the kindergarten class to help out as “a special treat.” I was fine with this. Those wee kids would tell you anything!

Even now as an adult I can’t control it. I start off making innocent inquiries about where a sweater or purse was bought and end up discussing self-esteem issues and why your parents divorce wasn't your fault. I have verbal diarrhea of the chronic, explosive kind.

I am available for parties.

Wooden Typography: Question Mark by Hope Farm & Hunny B via Etsy


*I realize that my choice of the pronoun “his” perpetuates a certain patriarchal stereotype about serial murderers who keep human bits in their fridge being male. My apologizes to any female body part hoarders. You count too!


Comments

  1. I'm cracking up, because I was with someone JUST like this the other day. I had just met her, and she seriously kept the conversation rolling off and on for like two hours. Questions about everything. It was actually really fun, even if I did leave feeling like I had just finished speed dating her. Haha!!

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  2. LMAO you are so funny!! You need to get a youtube channel and start vloging too!! :)

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