You Learn Something New Every Day
No matter how smart you are, there is always something new to learn. Sometimes, it’s something trivial – like snails have teeth (I didn’t know that until today) – and sometimes, it’s something that could save your life, or simply keep you from eating something really gross.
Take my oldest son’s BFF – he knows a lot of facts about a lot of crazy things. For instance, he knows why beer makes a person fat – like the biochemical details, not just that it does. He knows that rats multiply so quickly that within eighteen months, two rats can turn into over a million furry little buggers. He also knows (for a fact) that Superman would kick the crap out of Batman should the two of them ever meet and decide to fight. I think every young adult male has a theory (or twenty) like this.
Yes, my son’s BFF – let’s call him Blustin (which is pretty close to his actual name, and no, it’s not Justin or Sustin) – would probably do very well on a show like Jeopardy or Family Feud. But like everybody else in the world, Blustin doesn’t know everything.
I had to laugh the other night. He was over, telling us about his “bad” experience at the sushi restaurant. He’d gone there with his girlfriend, and – typical guy trying to show off and be healthy – he ordered a plate of edamame beans.
“They were terrible,” he said. “All stringy and gross. I ate a few, and then stuffed the rest in my pocket. You know how they are at sushi places when you order stuff and don’t eat it.” This, just after he’d showed us a Youtube video about singing dogs.
“What do you mean stringy?” I asked. “Are you sure you were eating edamame?” If memory serves me correctly – and I was just eating some last week – “stringy” is not really a word I’d use to describe them. “Boring”, “bean-like”, “definitely not as good as brownies” perhaps, but not “stringy”.
“Yeah, those green things in a pod.”
And then it came to me. “Were you eating the shells?” I asked, chuckling. “You are not supposed to eat those. They’re poison.” OK, so I don’t know if they are actually poison. I’ve heard yes. I’ve heard no. I think it’s one of those urban legends, like the fact that Mr. Rogers was a Navy Seal. I like teasing Blustin though. Besides, he’s still alive.
“What?” For a split second – before he realized that too much time had passed since he’d eaten them to make this true – he thought he might die. I saw it in his eyes. Poor guy.
“Didn’t your girlfriend tell you not to eat them?”
“No.” I’m sure she knew. She probably enjoyed watching him struggle. We females can get like that after we’ve been together with someone for a while. Sex is no longer blinding, and it makes up for the fact that we only got the right to vote less than one hundred years ago.
“Why didn’t you ask her, if they tasted so terrible?”
“I don’t know.”
“You learn something new every day,” I said, wiping the counter. Men – while dense in some areas, and stubborn in others – are also very messy.
“I guess so,” he shrugged.
Pride can be a factor as well. Yesterday, my younger son ate one hundred Oreos. They were “making a video” apparently. He’d probably eat rabbit poop if someone dared him.
Oh well, somebody has to be willing to sacrifice themselves to the zombies should they come. I sure as hell ain’t going to do it. I’ll be hiding in the ice cream parlour eating a big waffle cone – one scoop rocky road, one scoop pina colada, one scoop banana chocolate swirl – and praying that my husband doesn’t suffer too much.