I may be no Wile E. Coyote, replete with hand-embossed cards proclaiming genius at work, but the truth is, I am pretty smart.
If I did not find it as pointless and self-serving as this post, my IQ would qualify for MENSA.
After 3 years of school I was reading at an 11th grade level and had comprehension at a college junior level...or at least so said the tests.
In a class on Arab-Palestinian Politics I had both essay questions answered before the guy next to me started writing...and was one of 2 people to get an "A" in that entire class of over 50 people.
I once wrote a book review in which I blasted the author for not achieving the goal he set out to achieve and got an "A" on the paper from a professor who considered the author his mentor. I simply wrote so well and backed up my points so well that he believed I deserved the grade.
In other words, I am very, very book smart.
In fact, I am way above average smart. There are very few people I will ever meet who are smarter than me.
But there is one thing that all my smarts can not answer.
If I am so smart, why was tonight the third time I have domed myself on the pole that holds the curtains closed? It is an immobile, inanimate object that has now outsmarted me not once, not twice, but thrice.
Yeah, I'm smart all right...
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