I Am Too Dumb Too Live

Until the last week, I had no idea how limited my knowledge is about high school, fashion, nose piercing, teenage boys, famed tattoo artists, the ignorance of college-educated teachers, breathing, and life in general. Bless my heart, I have been bumbling blindly through my thirty nine years of existence on this planet, and I was too stupid to know any better. I was, for all intents and purposes, an utter moron. Imagine my relief when I discovered what many others have yet to benefit from. Someone always at the ready with an endless supply of information. A teenage daughter in her first year of high school.

Allow me to share a few nuggets.

High school teachers are stupid and mean. They assign big, stupid projects without the expectation that students complete them on time. And the criteria for the projects? Oh, that stuff is really more like suggestions than requirements. Wow, if I had known this back in high school, I could have spared myself hours of work and piles of poster board.

And to think I should been doing something huge, like appearing in a Whitesnake video on MTV? All that time spent studying, when I could have been rolling around on the tops of cars. Man, what a waste.

Another pearl - Only eleven and twelfth grades actually count, academically speaking. Good news for all you slackers out there. Perhaps the ninth and tenth grades exist for developing social skills and showcasing one's trademark sense of fashion (the same sense I had back in the 1980s - none). So all that SAT and ACT preparation during those first two years meant nothing. My daughter's right. She'll probably learn all she needs to know from Facebook. What do I know?

Ed Hardy, not to be confused with Paul Harvey ( made that mistake just once), is only an artistic genius. Please, everyone knows that. Though I can't speak for the masses, staying current on the latest temporary tattoo trends is paramount in my life. Just last week, before a trip to Wal-Mart, I had trouble deciding between a skull and roses for my shoulder, or a snake-wrapped sword for my ankle. Good thing my teenager advised me. Snake-wrapped swords are so last year. I wouldn't want to end up on the "People of Wal-Mart" website.

How did this untapped well of knowledge escape my notice for so long? Could the child who came to me years ago seeking answers to hundreds of questions be the same person who now considers me another "Too Dumb To Live" (see previous post bearing same title) contender? This child, who snacked on dry dog food? It appears, in her eyes, that I have earned a place on my own list. I suppose I should not be surprised after birthing my clone. My mother tried to warn me about the alien who would occupy my daughter's body years later.

I did not listen to her because she did not know what she was talking about. Hmmm.