Thanks Brain. I Wanted that Answer TEN HOURS AGO.

What. The. Hell?

So I had the radio on in the car again, and they were having one of those little trivia questions things that they always ask, so you won’t change stations during the commercials, because you want to know if you got the answer to the question right?

The question went something like he’s written more Billboard hits than McCartney and Lennon, or Elton John and Bernie Taupin, and some other clues that I wasn’t really listening to.

The point is, it was about 9:30 am, and I told my brain, “Ooh! I bet it was that guy!”

“What guy?” my brain asks.

"That guy! That black guy who wrote all that funky soul stuff in the seventies! What was his name? He wrote all those songs for those movies…you know, Let’s Do It Again, Car Wash… That guy! What was his name?

“How should I know?” my brain complains, “Shut-up, I’m trying to drive.”

“Tell me the name of that guy!! C’mon! You used to know it right off!”

“I’m not telling you shit. Goddammit, I wish these old coots would stay on the sidewalks with their power scooters. I swear I’m gonna flatten one of 'em one of these days, and it’ll fuck the car up, and we just spent a thousand bucks fixing it!”

“Awww, c’mon please???” says I to my brain, “If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna bug you all day.”

“Ah shit. Okay, you take the wheel. I’ll go see what’s in the file room.”

“And change the Muzak,” I yell after my brain after the door slams behind it, “I’m sick of Meatloaf…hmm-hmmm-hmmm…I would do anything for love…but I won’t do……Dammit brain! Hurry up!”

Ten hours later, while I’m watching a rerun of The Dick Van Dyke Show:

My brain shows up sweaty and dusty: “It was Curtis Mayfield.”

I look blank, “What?”

“The songwriter name you wanted. It was Curtis Mayfield. But he didn’t write anything for Car Wash. That’s what took me so long. You sent me to the wrong spot.”

“That took you ten hours to look up?” I ask, looking incredulous.

Brain starts looking pissed, “Do you know how much useless fucking shit is in there? I was moving bank boxes around like a fucking steveador!”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” I watch Rob Petrie unsuccessfully trying to write a novel.

There’s a short pause before my brain speaks again. “Was that the answer?”


“Was that the answer to the trivia question on the radio?”

“Oh that,” I shrugged, “I changed the channel. The commercials were boring me.”

“You suck, you know that?” My brain stomps back to the file room and blasts Meatloaf’s I Would Do Anything for Love through the Muzak speakers.


Hey! I want my brain back!

… waitaminnit, maybe I don’t.

This is a great OP.

I think.

Wait, I’m not sure…?

Oh crap. I am supposed to be doing the laundry. Oh, and there’s that thing in the yard.

Curtis Mayfield? What’s that about? Oh yeah…trivia question.

“JUMP, da dum da da da…JUMP”

Where the hell is the broom?

Now, who the hell was I trying to remember? Crayfield Somebody?

“Givin him somethin he can feel. uh huh…”

Why the hell is that in my head?

Shit, found the broom, now where the hell is the dustpan?

Curtis Melton!

Who the fuck is Curtis Melton and why is he my brain right now when I am trying to find the dustpan?
Oh…there it is!

Oh crap, I was sweeping something. Needed the dustpan. Where was I? Living Room? No. Kitchen? No. Started with a “C”? Crapper? No.
" JUMP…" WTF! why can’t I get that outta my head?

Backward, turn backward
O Time, in thy flight
I thought of a comeback
I needed last night

Two Many Cats, your brain sounds like lots of fun. Can it come out and play?


No. It’s been a very naughty brain and has to stay inside.

But it’s such an individual!

You know what they say the biggest erogenous zone is? Giant cock! No, the brain!

I love conversations with Da Brain. Reminds me of Calvin and Hobbes.

[homer] Shut up brain, or I’ll stab you with a Q-tip [/homer]

The OP is hilarious. I’ve had mental conversations just like that.

This evening I was in a class, and a woman sat down in front of me with this bizarre hairstyle. I wanted to remember to tell my hair stylist friend about it later. The only was to describe it was as a cross between a Marge Simpson-style bouffant and …what’s the name of that horrible hairstyle that’s described as ‘business in the front and a party in the back’. What’s that called again? Not a mohawk… dammit, it’s right on the tip of my tongue.

I knew I’d just sit there and obsess about it, so like the OP, I said, “Brain, go look up the name of that stupid hairstyle. You know, business in the front, party in the back. I have to pay attention for the next two hours, and I can’t be thinking about it. Now scoot and don’t come back till you have it.”

Some time later Brain came back as whispered, “Mullet” in my ear. MULLET! That’s it!

We’re almost (but not quite) talking about this:

L’esprit de l’escalier

My brain really pisses me off sometimes.

I will have some problem and I can’t solve it. I will call for help and two or three other people also can’t solve it. I will go home frustrated, having wasted most of my workday failing to solve the problem.

Then I will wake up at 3 am with the whole solution laid out in my brain. I won’t be able to go back to sleep because I’m afraid I’ll forget, and I have to run through the solution a dozen more times in my head to make sure it makes sense, and finally because I am stunned and amazed by my own insight and genius.

And the next day at work it will work perfectly, and I’ll think about how I wasted 3 people’s time for half a day when I might have figured it out after a ten minute nap.

Hooray for Two Many Cats! That’s surged ahead of Homer Simpson’s, “Help me pass this test so I can get back to killing you with beer,” as my favorite humorous conversation with one’s own brain. You’re not the “Hyperbole and a Half” woman are you? You have a similar wit.

My brain mostly prefers to wait until I am in the shower to provide answers…It is a little inconvenient, but the answers it provides are most of the reason my employers have kept me around. Kind of sucks that I live in the desert and really shouldn’t take long showers, but the brain likes to hold out sometimes.

OMFG this so sounds like me…this is why I usually give up and hardly do anything thing…

I’d like to ask about the “Hyperbole and a Half” woman, but my brain says there’s too much junk in the file room as it is. :slight_smile:

Actually, Hyperbole and a half, which is here, was the first thing I thought of. Specifically this.

Back when I used to be able to think, I solved a lot of work related problems in the shower.

Greg Charles, I love Hyperbole and a Half…that lady is nuts but she is sooooooo entertaining!