Popularity is for Poo-Poo Heads

Let's talk about popularity. Because I can't think of anything else
today. Are you popular? Are you a nerd? Are you so nerdy you
became popular? How about those nerds on The Amazing Race?
From what I've been reading, they are one of the viewers' favorite
teams. Nerds are popular! Who knew?

Popular people annoy me. They are so freakin' self-centered. Now
you must understand that is different from ME saying everything is
all about ME. Because I can do that. I am not popular. And I know
things about other people. Like their names, for instance. And things
that interest them. Here's an example. Once upon a time, years ago,
at one of my many schools, a smart-but-not-popular senior walked
down the hall and stopped to talk to the school counselor, who was
chatting with me. Which was unusual in itself, because the counselor
was popular and I was not. She asked the counselor if she'd written
that recommendation yet. The counselor replied, "It's on my desk
right now. I'm going to do it when I go back." The senior smiled.
"Thanks a lot!" As the senior walked down the hall, the counselor
turned to me. "What was her name again?" Give me a break! The
counselor, of all people, should know who the kid is if she's agreed
to give a recommendation! This was not a large school. It had less
than 100 students per grade level. The counselor only had four years
to learn the names of the students. I guess my point is...ain't it just
like a popular person to only be concerned with themselves, or with
other popular people?

In high school, I was not popular. Hands up. How many people
knew that already? I see it's unanimous. I was a nerd, which meant
at least I had respect for being smart, even if I was not included by
the populars in all their little stuck-up games. Ooohhh! There were
many rumors about the populars that ran rampant through the
nerds. One was that the blond senior in our freshman PE class
actually missed a week of school because she swam in the pool
and her hair turned green. Either that, or she was off having an
abortion. Back in the day, girls didn't just have babies at the drop
of a thong. There was some stigma to it in Bible Belt small-town
America. Another rumor was that at a party, the seniors turned
off all the lights and had sex with whoever they grabbed. There
were two variations to this story. One was that the hostess of the
party was found screwing her brother on the couch when the lights
came on, saw him, and kept doing it anyway. Another was that
someone went into the master bedroom, and there were three
senior girls in bed going at it. I think we must have had some wild
imaginations. If they'd said So-and-So came back from lunch so
high he couldn't read out loud in class, we'd have believed that,
because we saw that every day. But the goings-on of the populars
at their exclusive popular parties were mysteries to us.

My senior year, I hung out sometimes with one of the populars.
We were on the volleyball team (2nd place in the state tournament,
thank you very much) and would later share an apartment for a
year at college. A year during which I almost died of boredom, a
year in which any time I was home alone with her, I looked like
that deflated pot-smoking girl who melts to the couch in that public
service commercial. Only I wasn't on the pot. Much. Anyhoo...
we did what every other kid did on a Friday or Saturday night--
cruised through town, honked at our friends, and had a Mama-
Burger at the A & W. I was bored to tears. I kept thinking,
When is this going to be fun? She was BORING. One night we
picked up another popular girl, which meant that I had to move to
the back seat so she could ride shotgun. BORING times two.
Great Googley Moogley, the boring crap those two talked about.
"So then I said, 'QUIT, Boyfriend! Don't put your hand on my
knee...Miss Popularity is here. I don't want her to see me do that!'
I was so drunk!" Ho hum. I longed for my nerd friends, who did
things like moon their bare butts out my hatchback window while
cruising Main Street, drink pitchers of beer left on Pizza Hut tables,
show me how a one-armed man counts his change, scream "Ohh...
I LOVE push-ups" in a suggestive manner when the football team
warmed up before the game, and drive by the Drive-In 20 times to
get a glimpse of some skin in R-rated movies. Ahh...good times.

Some of my schools had their little groups of popular teachers.
Hey! Guess what? I wasn't one of them! Well, except at one
school, where everybody was invited to parties except ONE
person, and we even invited her husband, just not her. She went
on to be an elementary principal in another district, and a 2nd
grader brought a gun to the Christmas program to shoot her, but
was caught before he could. Perhaps we were a good judge of
character. Perhaps not.

Now that I've meandered to Handbasketland and back...I'll get
back to my regularly scheduled blog. Don't you hate it when a
person acts like she's (I'll say she, but it has also happened with
guys--bitter little girly men) your best friend until somebody
better comes along? Then you might as well dive into the sour
cream and chives, baby, because you've just been dropped like
a hot potato. One minute you're chatting away about people less
popular than you, and the next thing you know, you're getting the
cold shoulder. Nobody looks at you, they turn their backs to you,
they whisper in hushed tones about something so secret you're
not allowed to hear, because you're not a part of Popular Club.
First rule of Popular Club: Don't talk to people not in Popular
Club. I hate it when that happens.

Nerds, on the other hand, will include a person who walks up
on the conversation. Probably so they don't think they're being
talked about, which would necessitate revenge on the nerds.
Nerds are inclusive. They revel in their nerdiness. First Rule of
Nerd Club: Talk about Nerd Club to anybody who will listen.

And now I've forgetten the point I was out to make on this day
when I could not think of a subject on which to enlighten you.
Unless it is: Popular People Piss Me Off.

And they're boring, too.