Teenie Tiny Pseudonymous was born atop the Stratosphere, Las Vegas at 8:41 pm on Wednesday, December 17, 2014. She was delivered by an elite team of board certified Cirque du Soleil performers who–in collaboration with Mrs. Pseudonymous’s well-orchestrated pushing–perfectly timed the delivery with the opening Ringo Starr drum solo of The Beatles’ “LOVE” show. Then, just as Teenie’s head emerged from her mother’s hoo-hoo, an electromagnetic pulse was inexplicably unleashed, triggering all slot machines within a five-mile radius to display three consecutive bow-wearing stick figures and completely empty themselves of coins, much to the delight of cheap, low-stakes patrons (and to the disappointment of “the house,” who apparently does not always win after all). Via a system of pulleys and bicycles, the Soleil performers then counterbalanced the infant with an elephant, a grand piano, and a pint of Guinness, and after consulting Siri, declared the infant to weigh in at .0032885 metric tons (all, of course, to the tune of The Beatles’ “Carry That Weight”).
After four years of non-stop nerdery (which predates both the Twins and this fine publication), I finally defended my dissertation on Friday. I know I left you in terrible suspense all weekend by withholding the results, but I’m ready to break the silence. Are you ready?
Well, guess what? I DID IT!
If you so choose, you can now call me Dr. Pseudonymous. John Pseudonymous, PhD will also work. I will also respond to “Doctor,” “Doc,” and “Hey, you with the diploma!”
To commemorate this momentous occasion, I thought I’d remind you how excellently I’ve chronicled this journey and thus, from beginning to end, here are some of my favorite PhD-flavored Twincidents, for your re-reading pleasure. If you don’t read them now, they may disappear into the Disney Vault forever, as after acquiring Star Wars, a Disney-Twinfamy merger seems to be the most logical progression.
Good News: For the first time in our seven-year relationship, my wife and I purchased a brand new mattress and boxspring. We got a smokin’ deal on top of a rebate and we will now be spending our nights on cloudlike memory foam.
Bad News: The new bed is about eight inches higher, so my pregnant wife can’t get in and out of bed without a stool.