Who wants cake?

Thanks to Canadian TV show Strangers With Candy, I know that anyone could secretly be a retard. And that they're just like everyone else, and may or may not be gay.
I have some great retarded moments. This morning, I struggled with the English word for tea towel for about three minutes... while making wierd gurgling noises. That wouldn't be as sad if English wasn't my native language. I blame it on an insufficient supply of instant coffee.

At netball the other day I had another one. In netball, you're not allowed to swear, take more than one step, or throw the ball to yourself (I think). That's why I was pretty proud of myself for catching the ball, dropping it, picking it up again, trying to throw it to someone in front of me and actually chucking it backwards between my knees. Swearing. While stumbling backwards.

I feel like the more I do on my PhD, the less I can function in daily life. I feel like my academic IQ may be getting higher, but my IQ all the rest of the time is dropping faster than Debbie's dacks in Dallas. So to speak. Maybe its going to be a bit like Flowers for Algernon, where the newly genius scientist acutally discovers his own mental disintegration. Anyway, I'm off to get some cake now.

PS Ryan, if you're reading this, I'm still working on your birthday present and you're going to love it.