California Brain Rides Again

Finally... someone made a chart:

My lack of geographical knowledge regarding my country of origin is appalling.  Or at least, it should be, if I actually cared about all those pointless states that come AFTER California.  I have the West Coast down pat:  California (Angels singing), Oregon (tax free shopping), and Washington (birth place of Starbucks).  I can get to Reno and Vegas, which are the only two places worth going to in Nevada (unless you're near Tahoe, in which case Virginia City is a nice change from Reno).  Then there's alllllllll this land in between California and the East Coast, where New Yorkers reside and are under the impression that they're special.  

Is there a Cooter Bug in NY?  I think not.

If I had to look at an unmarked map and pick out any state past Utah and identify it, there's a 50 - 50 chance that I couldn't.  Well, except for Texas and Florida, because they're more than just random squares on a map.

I know, right?

I probably wouldn't even know which one of those little crooked blocks is New York.  

I should be ashamed.

If only I were...

Dan's embarrassed for me, because my California Brain tells me that I don't care, because those places really aren't important.

Because they're not California.

Jesus isn't in the Bible Belt, y'all... he's serving tacos to the chosen people of Cali.

When I say things like that (which I do... sad but true) Dan never knows how to take it.  Part of him really hopes I'm kidding, but the rest of him knows that unfortunately, I'm not.  

We have a lot of conversations that go like this:

Me:  "Which way is Pennsylvania?"

Dan:  "Huh?"

Me:  "Is it before or after Ohio?"

Dan:  

Me:

Dan:  

Me:  

Dan:  "You're not kidding, are you?"

Me:

Dan:

Me:  "Ummmm..."

Then Dan feels compelled to quiz me, just to find out how utterly stupid I actually am.  (I think it makes him feel better about himself.)

Dan:  "Dani, which state borders New York to the East?"

Me:  "I'm not stupid, Dan."

Dan:  "Then prove it:  what is it?"

Me:  "I don't have to tell you.  I know what it is."

Dan:  "Which state is right below New York?"

Me:  "I know which state is below New York, jeez!"

Dan:  "Sooo... what is it?"

Me:  "I'm not telling you."

Dan:  "What three states are in the Tri State area?"

Me:  "Shut up."

I don't need no stinking geography.

And it isn't just me.  

I met my first husband on a blind date.  A friend of mine was married to a Marine, and she told me about one of his friends who was also a Marine, and really tall and really cute.  And when I asked where he was from, this is what she said:

Her:  "Ummm... I dunno, one of those states that begins with an M, I think."

Me:  "Montana?"

Her:  "No, not Montana... I think it's somewhere back east."

Me:

Her:

Me:  "New Mexico?  No wait, that's an N.  Are you sure it's an M?"

Her:  "I think so... I'd remember it if I heard it."

Me:  *racking my brain for an M state that isn't Montana*

Her:  *racking her brain for an M state that isn't Montana*

Her:  "Oh, wait... I remember it reminded me of a movie star.  Marilyn.  Marilyn Monroe.  Maryland!"

Truest.  Freaking.  Story.  EVER.

The Great State of Marilyn.

For the longest time, when I was little, I thought  Illinois was a city in Chicago.

And I thought Washington D.C. was on an island, which I blame on my piano teacher, because one of the songs he had me play was "Columbia, The Gem of the Ocean."  (Which I honestly thought meant it was a green and lucious island that housed our nation's capital.)

I thought Alaska and Hawaii were right next to eachother, since they both entered the union at approximately the same time.  (Didn't they?  Hmm.  I should probably google.  Okay, they were both admitted in 1959.  See?  I'm not entirely stupid.)  I thought they were two little islands hanging out together somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.  Like, if you were in Alaska, you could just pop onto the ferry and hit the beaches in Maui for a change of pace.

And when someone told me that California was going to break off of the rest of the country and sink into the ocean, my logic was thus:

The rest of the country would actually sink, because it would be heavier.  Ergo, California would stay afloat.  I argued that point quite heatedly with my best friend in third grade, because she was moving to Idaho and for some reason, felt the need to let me know I was doomed.

Long story short, her mom called my mom to let her know that I had convinced her daughter that Idaho was going to be the first state to plummet to the bottom of the ocean when it broke off from California.

You know it, bitches.

Ahhh, Geography... if only I cared.

Here's a map of the state, for your convenience.