Meredith Viera just said something about a pro golfer fracturing his “tittia” and I was like, WOAH! WHAT! Rewind…

“…fractured tittia…(rewind)…fractured tittia…(rewind)…fractured tittia…(rewind!!!!)”

I sat on my couch recounting every single anatomy class I’ve ever taken and my head was swimming in the what-the-fuckery is this bone I have never heard of that Meredith Viera of ALL PEOPLE knows so well?

My head swooped over the ice age of my twenties, back to college, back to sitting at a dirty table in Java City at 7am with books open, colored pencils strewn about as I colored in body parts and muscle systems and connected them with bones and joints and the iliac crest and the sternocleidomastoid.

Now, I realize that my coloring was never good enough for anything more than a C in anatomy, but dear God, I know I didn’t skip over the chapters that covered bones that sound like boobs. And as a morning news anchor, I know Meredith Viera didn’t go to anatomy classes nor did she color in the nervous system for black ink outlines of faceless people with her Crayloa pencils that could never, ever retain a good sharpening. However, I did, regardless of let’s just admit how the fuck long ago it was. Have I lost it all already???

O! I am giving up, cruel world! O, that I had once a gem of a brain, coursing literature and symbolism and the workings of man at lightning speed! O. O. O, that here I am left with a potter’s wheel yet again, creaking every so slowly round about as the once glorious vase of my youth tumbles slowly into a muddy wet mass and drips itself onto the floor, alas.

Also, I need to get my hearing checked. Happy birthday, Sarah, you are deaf.