The Persistence of Memory

Memory's a funny thing. Remember in school, when you'd pull an all-nighter before a big test, cramming all those dates and names and facts into your head? You'd ace the exam, but come finals week, it was like Greek to you. Unless, of course, you were studying for Greek class, in which case, it was like math, or chemistry, or Spanish. Anything but what you needed to remember.

Then there are the things you'll never, ever forget. I'm not talking about the time you were pantsed in front of the girl you had a crush on in the middle of 7th grade gym class. I'm talking cold, hard facts, useless stuff, taking up valuable space in your brain.

I could recite my 13-digit bank account number in my sleep. It's helpful when filling out deposit slips, I suppose. I could rattle off the LOST numbers even half-drunk, which would have come in handy if I'd actually played them in Mega Millions last week and walked away $150 richer. I still remember my college boyfriend's old cell phone number-- useless on several levels, especially in this age of the digital address book. Who needs to memorize phone numbers, anyway?

Some people have a high school locker combination they'll always recall, but I would sometimes forget mine over long weekends, so that's definitely something that didn't stick with me. I, like many others, however, can never forget the jingle from the Empire Carpet commercials-- "800-588-2300, Empire...today!" So that makes at least two phone numbers I still remember but will never call.

At any given moment, I can list six of the seven dwarves. The caveat is that it's always a different combination of dwarves-- you know how it goes. Put me on the spot, and my dwarf-listing abilities under pressure might knock that number down to four or five.

Like many others of our generation, I will forever remember the lyrics to hundreds and hundreds of pop songs from the mid to late '90s. Put "Semi-Charmed Life" on the jukebox at a bar and watch everyone try to act cool, like they don't know every word. They do. They all do.

I'm usually decent at team trivia, pretty good at play-along-at-home Jeopardy. But I think it would help if I could clear out some of the useless to make room for the trivial. There are $30 restaurant gift cards at stake here, after all. I don't think the trivia guy or Alex Trebek are ever going to ask me to sing the Empire Carpet jingle, but if they do, I'm all set.

If they ask for seven dwarf names, though, I might be screwed. Lazy's one, right? Homely? Creepy?

You Don't Know Me, But I'm Famous

I used to have a dream.

Ever since probably high school, I've aspired to someday be a contestant on Jeopardy. I would watch it weekday evenings before primetime TV, sitting on my couch doing math homework and shouting answers in the form of questions at the television in between problem sets.

Freshman year of college, my roommate and I would videotape Jeopardy when we remembered-- that’s right, these were the olden days, pre-DVR-- and watch it at night, yelling answers at the television screen. This was the exciting season of Ken Jennings, the man who set the record for most consecutive wins on the show. But no matter how many answers good ol’ Ken got right, he couldn’t compete with our favorite week of the season-- College Jeopardy.

Eventually being on College Jeopardy became my goal. The questions tended to skew younger and had a bit more focus on pop culture than standard Jeopardy questions. Each episode usually featured at least one cute, smart boy. And you got to wear your college hoodie. What could be greater? It helped that in our play-along-at-home college dorm room, the record wasn’t Ken’s, or my roommate’s; it was mine.

However, laziness intervened. College Jeopardy week would sneak up on me, and I’d lament never having bothered to find out how you go about auditioning or testing. I’ve since met people who have gone through Jeopardy auditions, and it seems like a lengthy process. Well, maybe next time, I’d think, over and over, for the next four years.

Today, college has come and gone, and so have my chances of ever rocking College Jeopardy. Oh, sure, I could always try out for the regular version. But my utter lack of knowledge of local, US or global geography would surely thwart my efforts. In short, grown-up Jeopardy is just too damn hard.

So I have a new dream. It’s perfect. How can I simultaneously impress the world with my trivial knowledge AND not have to answer any really hard questions? That’s easy: Celebrity Jeopardy.

You’ve seen SNL. It’s not a far cry from the real version. These people are morons. I may not have any idea where the longest river in the world begins, nor do I know the capital of Tanzania. But I’m no moron. I would more or less dominate.

Now there is a little kink in my plan, and I think you may have figured it out. It’s not the aforementioned laziness-- I can fight that when necessary. No, it’s something a bit tougher to surmount-- I don’t know that I could technically be considered a celebrity.

But I’m no quitter. It’s Celebrity Jeopardy or bust. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get famous. You know that as much as I once wanted to, I probably won’t be doing it in the fields of figure skating or professional singing. It’s just not in the cards. So what else could I do? I have a few ideas.

• Reality TV star. It’s cheap; it’s easy; it’s lowest-common-denominator television. All we need is a video camera and I could be a star. I could trick an Atlanta Falcons player into marrying me and then I’ll be a Real Housewife. I’m not having a bunch of babies, so the Octo-mom idea is out. What about the Balloon Boy? I’m sure some Georgia Tech engineering student could make a contraption that I could fly away in.

• I'm practically locally famous for my unending devotion to Diet Coke. Think we could make that happen? I was born to be a Diet Coke spokesperson.
  
• Last ditch effort-- tell all your friends about the blog. Then they read it, love it, tell all their friends, and so on and so forth until the whole world falls madly in love with me and Alex Trebek books me as a professional blogger. Get on it.
  

Just give me a little time. Rome wasn't built in a day, and international superstars aren't created overnight. Look out, Trebek. I've got my eyes on the prize.

A Matter of Trivial Importance

If there’s one thing I know well, it’s Harry Potter. Or so I thought.

You know when you’re at trivia, and you haven’t been particularly valuable to your team, either because you don’t know the answers, or because everyone else knows all the same answers you do? And then comes a category that you feel so certain about. You just know you’re about to earn your keep on the team. For Matt it might be Really Boring Number-Related Things; for Virginia it might be Pretty Handmade Jewelry; for Michael it might be Not Being Awesome. You just know you’re about to dominate.

Then comes the question, and everybody’s looking to you. And you just… don’t… know it. You should know it. It’s in your head somewhere. But a whole song later, it’s time to turn in the answer and you’ve still got nothing.

There aren’t many trivia-related scenarios worse than that. Except maybe this one: getting the right answer, knowing it’s right, but then second-guessing yourself, scratching it out and turning in something that’s completely, utterly wrong.

That’s what’s been happening to me lately. Last week at trivia, we got a Harry Potter question. Great for me, the Harry Potter nerd, right?? Well it should have been. “What is Ginny Weasley’s real first name?” should have been simple. Immediately I grabbed the answer sheet and wrote down “Ginevra.” But then somebody looked at it funny.

“Really? Ginevra?”

Well… maybe not. Maybe I’m thinking of another Harry Potter character. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe one of the professors’ first names is Ginevra. But I know Ginny isn’t short for Ginnifer. Maybe Virginia? Yeah, that sounds right. What was I thinking—Ginevra? Please.

Ginevra Molly Weasley, as it turns out.

Then last night, I went to trivia at the pub where my new roommate works. A Movie Scenes question—an easy category for us, we assumed. But it was about Step Brothers, the Will Ferrell movie, which neither of us had seen, nor had any of her coworkers. “In Step Brothers, they hire a band for a party that will only play cover songs from whose 80’s period?”

The first thing to pop into my head was Billy Joel. Then Elton John, because I associate the two. We ran through several different options before finally deciding to make an uneducated guess and write down Prince. Before turning in the answer, I felt compelled to scratch it out and change it to Billy Joel, but I don’t want to be That Person, even on a guess. So I left it alone.

Of course it was the Piano Man.

On the whole, second-guessing myself has lost me a grand total of five points in four days, so nothing too horrible. But I don’t want to lose any more points. It’s time to start trusting my instincts. It’s time to start going with my initial gut reactions.

Because I was right the first time, dammit.