The Wednesday before the fourth of July my husband and I were winding down our evening with a beer at Pageturners Lounge. Earlier in the evening we had a delicious dinner at Lot 2 in Benson and watched his brother and nieces set off a few fireworks on their street. But we weren’t quite ready to turn in just yet — it was a holiday weekend after all.
While sitting at Pageturners, my husband was whining about not seeing any fireworks, even though we just saw some at his brother’s house like 20 minutes before we arrived for the night cap. Fun fact: I hate fireworks. Hate is a strong word… I dislike them. No, I pretty much could give two #@%$s about them, so maybe hate is the proper word. Let me explain. One July 4 party a few years ago, some friends were in the street lighting off “harmless” fireworks. One firework was lit, and it happened to fall over on its side. Everyone around the firework ran and took cover. I was sitting yards away, almost in the garage of our friend’s house, and when that #@%$er fired, it shot directly back and BOOM, hit me right on the cheek. “That didn’t hurt,” my husband said to me a few moments after impact. I didn’t even need to speak. I gave him an icy Cersei Lannister glare and showed him the large red welt on my face, and he never brought it up again. That is the end of that fun fact. Now back to the blog.
During our conversation over beers, my husband mentioned something about Spider-Man and I responded with a quizzical look. What was he talking about, I asked. He got that wildcard bitches look on his face. He reminded me of a conversation we “allegedly” had at dinner about how he almost gave up Spider-Man. I was super confused. I vaguely recalled this. “Are you sure we talked about this?” I asked him. “YES!” screeched Charlie Day … I mean my husband. He began retelling me the story when it happened.
“OH MY GOD!” he yelled, “You are #@%$ing nerd muting me!”
Apparently “nerd mute” can be described as “when someone hears someone else mention anything pertaining to a superhero, comic book or gaming genre, and the initial person instantly goes dead in the eyes and deaf in the ears.” Official definition courtesy of moi.
My husband says that as soon as he started telling me his Spider-Man story AGAIN, he caught me turn my head slightly, press my beer to my lips, and let my eyes glaze over. He said I slowly, like a Sloth, turned my head slightly and stared at Dodge Street.
I, of course, denied all of this. So he decided to test me. We take science and scientific testing über serious in our household, as you can tell. Someone should get this test and term published, stat.
Anyhow, my husband began jabbering on now about how it was so nice outside on July 3, and that the patio at Pageturners was a great addition, oh yeah, Thor— Instantly my eyes rolled into my head.
He slammed his hand on the table, pointed at me and yelled, “AH-HA! You did it again. You seriously just nerd muted me.”
In my mind, I now rank up there with Superman, Spider-Man, Professor X, and the rest of those clowns with my mother#@%$ing superpower. Will I use this for good or for evil? Probably a little of both. Stay tuned…
Kacie Baum is a professional partier, mother of two pugs, and the wife of Matt Baum. She tolerates the constant presence of the Two-Headed Nerd in her home each week. She did not write this bio. Pre-THN entries of Girl Meets Nerd can be found here.