I rarely get to control the remote during primetime. It's not that everyone doesn't want to watch what I want to, it's just it's always a communal experience. But tonight Mom and Dad are gone, Colleen's at a friend's, and John is upstairs being angsty probably I don't know. So I get to watch whatever I want.
And I've spent the last two hours watching Nat Geo. Because I'm a huge dork. Also, I'm always looking for possible career paths for my worthless degrees and talents. Over the last forty-seven minutes of the show about mummies, I realized that I couldn't be an anthropologist. Because while I could probably tell you all about the cultural influences that led to a society desiring to consecrate their dead, like hell I could identify a needle mark on the neck through which embalming fluid was injected.
The head anthropologist on this show looks like he's about twelve, and kind of resembles the kid who plays Neville (I totally almost typed Chamberlain right there- thank you, Dr. Crain.) from Harry Potter. I have decided to marry him and maybe National Geographic pays enough to cover my student loan bills. This kid is adorable, I tell you.
However, we may have some problems. He got my hopes up at the beginning of the hour. The show focuses on how all these mummies that are HUNDREDS of years old managed to be preserved in the Sicilian catacombs. There was chanting and background footage of medieval monks and the narrator kept saying HUNDREDS OF YEARS over and over again. Dude. You just won out of Ace of Cakes on Food Network.
But then as the show progressed, these mummies turned out to be not that old. Like, most were from the eighteen hundreds. The major one that is remarkably lifelike died in 1920. Are you kidding me? Maybe she just hasn't started decaying yet because that was only like EIGHTY YEARS AGO.
Okay. I get it. Keeping a body around in open air for eighty years is a remarkable scientific feat. But I remain unimpressed. I wanted middle ages, y'all.