Acts of Incompetent Genius

I had this sudden idea the other night while I was eating a steak dinner and watching some Frontline special about technology (settle down, boys, this girl’s taken) that it’d be an interesting, potentially time-saving experiment to see if I could keep myself from Wonder Killing for an entire week. For me, that means not Googling something the very second I have a question.

I thought I’d probably need to keep a diary of this time, both to keep my hands from Googling, and to write about whether or not it was difficult for me to stay away from Googling. Then I imagined the essay I might write after the experiment was over. There’d probably be this list of things I’d been wondering over the week. Important things, like, “What season did George Clooney join Facts of Life? or “How many cups in a liter?” or “Horse jokes dirty” or “Bare Necessities Promo Code.” Bloated by my Frontline-enhanced ego (it’s similar to when we all think we could just write for This American Life or when someone says, “You should do my life as a sitcom”), I pictured this essay would create an entertaining discussion of how many random questions float through our minds during the day that we perhaps used to use to engage in entertaining conversations, but instead now we answer things on our own, clicking into our private encyclopedias at the end of our fingertips. Read more

An Open Invitation to George Clooney.

Anytime.

Anytime, Mr. Clooney. It doesn’t have to be dinner, although I make an excellent whatever-you-want-to-eat. Lunch. Coffee. I have three different ways to make coffee at arm’s reach right now. You could come for breakfast. A glass of wine. Tooth-brushing time. I’m way more entertaining than Joel Stein. I can say that without a single shred of evidence because I’m just that ridiculous. (And you’re just that George Clooney.)

Also, you’re welcome to investigate that strange noise coming from the bedroom.

(It’s me.)