Saturday, October 22, 2011

Seriously though guys, you need to reconsider the unitards;they aren't doing anything good for your butts...

My childhood babysitter was a woman who lived down the street from us. I remember her as being very old but she was probably only in her 60s at the time, then again she could have actually been very old, who knows.  Either way she was caring, grandmotherly and used to let me come over and play in the emptied out swimming pool full of car parts and gardening supplies in her back garden. I remember her lecturing me on the importance of writing actual letters and once watching me put a staple through my finger so I would learn not to do thoughtless, silly things (which clearly was not a lasting lesson).

Since they did not go with the traditional choice of flakey teenage sitter, nights when my parents went out were less filled with algebra homework and phone calls to boyfriends (which is what pop culture has led me to think accompanies such caretakers) and more filled with Angela Lansbury.  My sitter was extremely fond of watching only two shows: Murder She Wrote and Perry Mason. Many an evening were spent solving a crime or arguing a case, but as soon as Jessica or Perry was done with their duty the TV clicked off. Once in a while she was slow to the button and the next program would start. Traces of space, strange looking characters and that guy I watched on Reading Rainbow would pop up, but inevitably she would flip them off and begin reading Readers Digest.

I never thought much about these glimpses of Star Trek I saw. I was too young to be interested on my own and by the time I was old enough to be in nerd circles where Wars or Trek mattered I had amassed a group of Lucas fanatics as friends. Much as I despise all the whining Luke does in Star Wars IV, I never really explored my other option.

Enter Netflix.

When all of Star Trek went up for stream Indie Jake's trekkie heart was reignited with its love of all things in the final frontier and it was decided that I needed to watch this business. You see his parents, like good nerd parents had taught him in the ways of galaxy exploration and, not to sound too emo, but IJ doesn't have tons of happy childhood memory triggers (or memory triggers at all), so when we hit on one of course I was going to go along.

OH DEAR LORD, I LOVE ME SOME STAR TREK.

Even Wesley's ugly sweaters and Riker's tendency to shtup anything that's female and has a pulse.

True, it took me a while to warm up to the thinking man's undercurrent of Next Gen, constantly exploring what it means to be human, but now I'm hooked. And I've got about 20 more years of episodes to watch!

I'ma say it. Plain and simple.

I'm a trekkie and I didn't even know it.



...now where can I get me a Klingon to English dictionary


No comments:

Post a Comment