Looking for Answers

I am full of questions. I cannot help it; there is just so much strange information out in the world pleading for me to get my informative hands on it. My inquiries know no confines.

I tackle global issues. How far would we have to go in the ocean to reach international waters? I ponder diversity. Why are there never white people working at sushi restaurants? I delve into holy contemplation. Why do we celebrate Easter, again, and where do the eggs come in? Even cuisine is not safe from my inquest. Who came up with the idea of frozen yogurt? Did they have a beef with ice cream or something? Why has no one invented beer flavored frozen yogurt? I’d eat that.

More often than not, my husband shoulders the brunt of my queries in the car on the way to somewhere. After attempting an answer the following conversation usually takes place:

Him: I guess I don’t know, wait, how am I supposed to know?

Me: I don’t know. You know lots of stuff. I thought maybe you’d have read it somewhere.

Him: Where would I have read about the creation of frozen yogurt?

Me: I don’t know. I was just wondering. Maybe you’ll read about it somewhere in the future and remember that I was wondering.

At this point he usually just shakes his head and we move on.

The strange part is that I don’t necessarily need an answer and it is not likely that I will not wiki it when we get home. In my opinion though, they are valid questions to throw out there. Someday I am going to win a big screen TV in a bar trivia competition or something. We’ll see who’s laughing then.

The stranger part is I have a picture in my head of my husband reading in a waiting room and learning the answers to all of my questions in some magazine. I wonder what magazine it is.