Back when Mojo's beloved Favorite Husband was a somewhat moronic teenaged boy goofing off with his somewhat moronic teenaged male friends, in a rare display of future wit and intelligence he (and they) started referring to McDonald's Chicken McNuggets as "Chicken McLigaments".  MORE Mojo! »

So just when yesterday appeared to be Mojo's new Stupid Tedious Bothersome Person Day, she stumbled across this snippet on the web about neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor. And it totally made her day.

(Warning: the above link has a bad script, which hangs the page for a while. If you tell it to continue when the error message pops up, it seems to work.)

Despite her general misanthropy, Mojo has a private list of people she thinks she wouldn't mind having lunch with or hanging out with or ending sentences with prepositions with. Meaning she thinks they would be fun and/or entertaining and/or interesting to talk to instead of being a tiresome burden to endure. Ms. Taylor is her newest candidate. Although at least during the actual eating lunch part of their visit, Mojo would rather she left the real human brain at home. (Mojo doesn't like the idea of dripping formaldehyde in with her salad dressing.)

And for those of you who simply WON'T click on a link or video unless Mojo explains what you're gonna see using tiny words, okay, here goes: JBT is a scientist who studies the anatomy of the human brain, and who woke up one morning realizing she herself--at the tender age of 37--was having a stroke. And, being a scientician type person, her initial reaction, instead of freaking out or panicking, was to think, "Wow! Cool!" And hence she remembers, in fabulously humorous detail, just about every single aspect of what happened to her. Including, as her analytical left brain was being destroyed, what it's like for a trained scientist to suddenly shift to a wholly right-brain perspective. Fascinating stuff!

Mojo

I will preface this with a story filled with irony. One of the reasons why I had not seen this movie up until now is because there is a young person--by young I mean somewhere in their mid-twenties--who moved back home, jobless and friendless, to sponge off of their well-intentioned and loving parental units, who let said young person lay about the house rent-free, eating their food and assuming no responsibility for their lives. To each his own.  MORE Mojo! »