It's hard to say what the nerdiest thing is about me, given there are so many options. While my collection of comfortable shoes, my obsessive compulsive oral hygiene, and my strict 10:00 bedtime are viable contenders, I must say that my affinity for audiobooks wins the prize.
I started listening to audiobooks after reading Stephen King's On Writing. That guy is a nut job, but man, he's a voracious reader and writer, and doesn't believe anyone could say they don't have time to read a book. I think the line in his memoir goes, 'There are only so many times you can listen to Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer" before you realize you've just wasted hours of your life in the car.' So I went out and bought Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris, a fluke really, because I'd never heard of him before. The book gods were smiling upon me that day, and from that point on I have never minded a long drive by myself.
Being the cheapskate I am, I generally refuse to buy audiobooks. I have an extensive library card collection (hey, now that might be the nerdiest thing about me) and have gotten lucky at times. But in the last few months I've pretty much tapped out the collection of good audiobooks at my downtown library. This last trip, it was either Paint it Black, by Janet Finch, a book I tried to read in Thailand before realizing it was the worst book ever published ever, or Firstlight by Sue Monk Kidd. I grimaced and chose the latter, because even though The Secret Life of Bees was fabulous in every way, her second book, The Mermaid Chair, was gag-me-with-a-spoon awful.
Today I am on the second in a four-disc series, and it's okay. She's a little preachy for my liking, but what can I do? It's either that or get the crap scared out of me on KGO with all this swine flu nonsense.
I rolled down the window while sitting at a stoplight and realized that the person in the car next to me (also with his window rolled down) could probably hear the book being read to me in my car. That would explain why he was looking at me like my head was twisted on backwards.
In my twenties, I would have quickly flushed with humiliation and rolled up my window, but after checking my woman-in-her-thirties meter I realized there was no need to be embarassed. This woman in her thirties is finally happy in her nerdiness. She knows all the words of 'Livin' on a Prayer' anyway.