My brain is pretty much like a snake eating its own tail.
I get stuck in random though patterns that are like a nightmarish combination of a mobius strip and 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon.
The other night, while my husband and I were watching TV, an ad for the new James Bond movie came on.
…random useless conversation…random useless conversation…
Hubs: …what in Hell is the name of the guy that created James Bond?
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
Where did that little bit of information go?
It was there. In my head. I know it was . But now? Nothing.
Me: Ian Something
Hubs: Rogers? No, that’s not right.
Ian Rogers…Ian Rogers…Rogers
Me: Roger Waters!
Also me: No. That’s Pink Floyd, you numb ass.
Why am I even thinking about this?
…back to the TV. . .more inane conversation.
Me: He was a knight, right?
Me: The guy who created Bond.
Hubs: I think so. It’s no big deal.
Me: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!
Also me: Wait! That’s Sherlock Holmes. Nevermind.
Hubs: Forget it. Google it later.
There’s more TV. More talky talky. Then dinner takes us to a good two hours from the start of this conversation.
Me: I think he was Scottish, though.
Hubs: Thor?? (We’d been talking about The Avengers.)
Me: No. The Bond guy.
Hubs: Are you still seriously thinking about that?
Me: Of course. I know this.
Kiddo interrupted this conversation with a nightmare, so it was Mama to the rescue. I came back downstairs a half hour later.
Me: I think it was Ian Mcculloch.
Hubs: Are you kidding me?
Me: No. But Mcculloch doesn’t feel right, either.
Hubs: Let’s just watch The Simpsons, okay?
It was an old episode. A spoof of 24. Kiefer Sutherland made a guest appearance.
People Are Strange…
Echo & The Bunnymen…
Me: Shit. Ian Mcculloch was the dude from Echo & The Bunnymen.
Hubs: Shut up.
Then, I fell asleep.
Sir Ian Flemming
Son of a BITCH!