I have always wondered how one gets classified as a genius. And no, I don’t have any delusions of grandeur; it’s just a thought. Is it some type of pyramid voting process where you can only move up if you’re smarter than the last person? I wonder if, in the hierarchy of intelligence, biochemists feel like their slumming it if they have to lunch with mathematicians? Based on  personal experience, I have never met a well-adjusted genius. They seem like regular people until that switch flips. It’s like I just walked into a foreign country without being able to speak the language – and no money for cab fare to get out. The thing is, without these brains our lives would not be what they are today. Due to a few geniuses we are able to pack more into 24-hours than ever before. And a lot of the daily tedious tasks have been automated – and for this I am forever grateful. So, as the song kind-of says – here are a few of my ingenious things:

The man that invented the infrared light so that you don’t have to touch the handles in airport bathrooms. I am hoping he is still alive and is now working on the same feature for the door. I am tired of having to wait for someone to come into the bathroom so I can get out. Overall a happy genius.

Call recognition screens. Pure genius. How many times have we NOT answered the phone based on who’s calling? Be it a chatterbox, a pesky friend always wanting to borrow money, your mother-brother-sister, any near distant relative or a “private caller” – and who answers those anyway?  On the flip side, I think I might legally change my name to “Private Caller.” For two reasons; First, I just think it would be funny. Although my family might not appreciate being part of my warped humor. I can just hear it at a restaurant, “calling Mr. Caller.” And of course, I’d always have to ask for something a little more “Private.” And second, as aforementioned, nobody answers those calls. It’s NEVER anyone you really want to talk to anyway.  So, I won’t waste my time with small talk. I can just leave a message and be on my way.

I am really torn about this next one. Not that I don’t think it qualifies as genius, but it would tend to highlight some unattractive personal habits. Let me just come out and say, I’m in love with fake grass. There, I said it. Now I know how wonderful real grass is. There is nothing that says wholesome more than the smell of a fresh cut lawn. I know, I grew up in the Midwest. But I live in California now, and water is more important than grass. All you naysayers please reserve your comments until you actually SEE the grass-ettes. It’s not your father’s Astro Turf. But here’s my dilemma: the neighbors have already seen signs of my anal retentiveness and this is only going to reinforce it. I don’t know if I will be able to keep myself from going out on the front yard with my new Meile to vacuum the lawn. It would be a constant struggle for me. A turf tuff love on my end – but pretty green genius.

Anything that allows me to do two or more things while driving. This includes wireless anything. You have to love the idea of being able to answer email from around the world while sitting in traffic or traveling 70-mph on an L.A. freeway. Call me weird, but there’s something glorious about that (I know totally irresponsible, but we are not talking about that). It’s ingenius how the volume of my blaring music will lower for incoming calls. Not to mention all that stuff that turns on and off automatically, so I don’t have to. Genius.

I am also indebted to the Italian that invented espresso. I know this doesn’t sound like a genius at work, but think about it. This guy figured out how to brew coffee by forcing very hot (and yet, technically not boiling) water, under high pressure, through coffee that has been ground to a consistency somehwere between extremely fine and powdered. All in the name of making something small, potent, fast and delicious (I know, acquired taste).  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out this one is just self-indulgent.

We live in a crazy time, with complete indifference coming from Washington, the demands of our daily lives, having to work harder, longer and, more often than not, more than one job – not to mention the personal pressures we put on ourselves. Sometimes I just like to go to the mall and find myself. That’s when I walk up to one of those center kiosks and see those 3 reassuring words, “You are here.” Thank God! I am here, I am no longer lost or searching for truth. I am in the mall AND I have found myself again. Arguably the simplest red dot of psychoanalysis that I have ever found. Try it out. Go to the mall, walk up to the kiosk, take a deep breath and search for the red dot. You are here. You have found yourself. Pure genius.

Sure you’ve got your nuclear physicists, geneticists, biochemists, astronomers, biologists, economists and mathematicians, but give me Elbert Botts any day. Elbert engineered the little rounded white dots on the highway (highway-techies call them Bott’s dots). Yes, they can be annoying at times, but when your espresso spills on your iPhone charger which shorts the sixteen disc player sending sparks out the air vents, and as you reach over the back seat to grab the fire extinguisher (you’re prepared because this isn’t the first time sparks have flown) it’s nice to know ­– with that thudding of your wheels – that you are clearly driving off course…again. Pure genius. Sign me,

                                                Slightly off course,