Friday, July 29, 2011

Theories


Theory: drinking and hanging out in the sun increases your chances of getting burned. Proof: Fun Day 2011. I drank less than my friends and didn't put on sunscreen. They drank more and put on sunscreen. At the end of the day they were burned horribly—like a bunch of cherries. I was not. My theory for why this is: the dehydrating effects of alcohol consumption, namely that it displaces water in your body, make the skin dry and unable to cool itself as well, thus more susceptible to sunburn. Prove me wrong.

Theory: men have periods. They won't admit it. They get grouchy and bitch and moan too. But they won't admit it. Pre-manstrual syndrome. This isn't my theory and I don't know if I believe it so I don't have to prove it.

Theory: little cousins are annoying purely because that is their nature. Proof: Georgie has now read my blog over my shoulder now twice despite asking him to not. He's doing it now. And he's read the blog aloud. And he's f-ed around with my phone a bunch. Little cousins know how to push your buttons and they do.

Theory: fish bite when you least expect it and when you forget you are fishing. Proof: all the trout I have caught in the last 10 years have been when I wasn't paying attention and had forgotten I was fishing. When I started fighting over the rod with my sister? Cutthroat trout. When I had given up on my bait in the river? Beautiful 16 inch rainbow trout. The last fish I caught at the beach house? Last toss just for giggles while waiting for Ciera. Just forget you are fishing.

Theory: my grandmother is awesome. Proof: she sasses back. When I give her crap she throws it right back at me. Everyone respects my grandmother not just because she is the matriarch but because she is still sharp as nails in the brain. She's old—88—but she still kicks our asses with her biting commentary. It is a well known fact that you don't mess with her.

Theory: I've run out of theories but no one will fault me for it because no one will read this. I feel like I am spitting in the wind sometimes. It just comes back into my face.