The Twilight Zone

I am a magnet of beauty, intelligence, and godly femininity....Freaky married men love me. And man children vomit near me. It's the magnetic exertion that overpowers them to differing results.

I am telling you this story because it is, in fact, so much stranger than fiction. You will know by it's oddness that it must be true. (This isn't about the same .............................. I mentioned the other night. No, this is another one. Hard to believe that there is more than one, but, there it is.)

A man who looked somewhat familiar sat down next to me.

He said "Hello, Kelly. It's been 26 months since I last saw you."

I, who am not so good with numbers, was wondering how a person would know something like that. It was very Rainman.

"Are we keeping track, then?" I asked.

"Well, 25 and a half, if you want the exact number. It was October of '05. Do you think that Soren Kierkegaard was saved?"

This was an unexpected turn in an entirely perplexing conversation. It did serve to remind me, with stunning clarity, of the last conversation I had with this individual. He had impressed himself greatly, at the time, with his own ability to discuss a variety of philosophers and writers. I think it was sort of a flexing of his intellectual muscles. Not unlike an adolescent male strutting before a mirror.

I replied that I did, indeed, tend to think that Kierkegaard was saved.

"Nietzsche, then, we could agree, probably wasn't. And Frances Shaffer; you think he was?"

I'm thinking: Sure, after the whole "God is Dead" business, I suspect that Nietzsche was perhaps not all that Heavenly inclined. Shaffer seems straightforward to me. Why are we having this conversation?

But what I actually said was vastly more intelligent. It went something like, "Oh, look at the time!"

And the boys and I went to the parking lot in rather a rush. D' had to be at basketball, and we needed to pick up his buddy on the way. The same buddy that never ever gets the stomach flu unless he's with me. The sweet boy who, once again, shared the contents of his tummy with the carpet, though this time was at the local elementry school, rather than at my house.
I do not handle this well.
I am just not a vomit person.
I am more of a creepy guy person.
Come to think of it, both sort of trip my gag reflex.