Raise Your Hand If You Don't Care. Or Don't Raise Your Hand. Whatever.

Recently, I was voted #7 on someone's list of People Who Just Don't Care. I'm honored, flattered, ecstatic. But I do'nt want to take all of the credit. A lot of people contributed to my flippant, devil-may-care attitude. My ability to tell babies to shut up and to call my mother a nutsack didn't come naturally. No, it took a cultivation that can only come from being raised amongst like-minded individuals. I would like to give proper credit to people I know who JUST DON'T CARE in various ways. So, in no particular order (except #1) here we go:

1. Stephen J. M*Inerny, my father aka The Intimidator. This man knows fifty ways to kill you with his bare hands. This man owned the Raffi songbook. This man can grow facial hair that would make Tom Selleck feel inadequate. This is a man who will ask his daughter's friends what they are doing in his house at 10pm on a Friday night. Who will ask them if they were born in a barn when they leave his front door ajar. Who will tell you, when you call home crying at 11pm, to get yourself together and not call after 10pm unless you're dead.

2. Margaret M. M*Inerny, my mother aka The Obliviator. This is a woman who KNOWS she is wearing just one earring, a woman who wore high-waisted, hyper-tapered jeans both after and before they were ever in style. A woman who will tell you, "hey, that's okay," when you run the family's brand new car into the garage when you forget which pedal is the brake. This is a woman who will fall in the middle of the street in New York City when you're on your way to a college interview and not even CARE that you can't breathe because you keep replaying the image in your head and laughing hysterically. That's right, I laugh when people fall. Why? I don't care.

3. Patrick N. M*Inerny, my little brother aka The Agitator. This is a kid who inverted every American flag in our high school, which nobody noticed. This is a kid who got reamed out by the elderly history teacher for holding up a sign that said GO TWINES (he meant Twins, I'm sure) during a pep rally for the State Tournament Bound football team. This is a kid who patched his own pants with a dirty old washcloth when they sprouted a hole. A kid who argued with my father about why it wasn't important for him to shower on a regular basis. A kid who learned to use a sewing machine at age 10 because he wanted to make pillows, gender stereotype be damned!

4. Mary Clare Jensen, my cousin aka Fuzz. This girl wore nerd glasses until she was 12 and she was still one of the prettiest girls I've ever known. This girl can and does wear sweatpants and make them look hot. This girl can also hold her own at the dinner table with any 300-lb man, including myself. Fuzz has never been afraid to be herself, whether she's openly proclaiming her love for all things Britney or she's spending a night in jail at age 19. But this conversation sums her up best:

Fuzz: I have to write a paper for my media class about how one topic is treated differently by different media.

Me: Cool. You could do the July 7th bombings in London...like Fox News vs. CNN or International media vs. US media.

Fuzz: No way. I'm doing the Loch Ness Monster.

5. David Coyle aka He Doesn't Have Nicknames. If you know David, you know he hates to be labeled. Tell him to cut his hair and he'll grow it into a disgusting mess. Tell him he should was that shirt and he'll wear it again, even if the pits are so stained it looks like he's been brewing iced tea under his arms. Tell him to vote within the 2-party system and he'll tell you to go frost yourself. Mention Prince and this 6'4" 230 pound dude will weep like a teenage girl. Bring up a book and he'll tell you he straught up doesn't read. Mention hegemonic masculinities and he'll talk for hours. Mention Fantasy Sports and he'll ask to join your league.

6. Meghan, my big sister aka The Boobinator for changing her hair as often as her pants-crapping baby changes diapers, for living in sin not once but twice, for dropping out of college, for going back to college, for getting married outside the church by a Lesbian minister, for thinking outside the baby name box, and for being a D-cup girl in a B-cup family. That very last part isn't true at all, I just wanted you to know my sister has huge ones.

7. Gene Weaver, best friend, aka The Man of the 90s. This guy has crapped his pants in Aaron Spelling's offices, and he'll tell you about it with glee. Gene drove a 1986 Chevy Cavalier that leaked ecto cooler and anded up totaled on his lawn in a hit and run.He moved to Hollywood in the Red Jeep Wrangler, kept the top off until October in Minnesota, and now interns in the Minnesota Senate. He will remember every embarrassing detail of your life and repeat it in public. Or on the Internet. Kind of like...me?

8. Erin Mulcahy, best friend aka Sale Rack. Erin wants you to know that her entire outfit cost $17, that she used three coupons and an employee discount to buy it, and that she owns the shoes in two other colors. Erin will get stinking drunk two nights before she has to run a marathon, spend the day before her big run puking and crying and still finish the race. Erin will tell any guy to his face that he is too short, annoying, not funny, or a bad dancer. She will announce after meals that she has "gut rot" and will unapologetically pick food from your teeth or wipe stuff off your face after licking her thumb.

9. Beven O'Brien, best friend aka The Tornado. Beven isn't only the President of I Don't Care, Inc., she's also a member. Beven will stay up all night before a final making a photo collage, then punch that final in the face, come home and read ten Us Weekly magazines and nap for 6 hours. Beven will throw a party and change her outfit five times to reflect the way the party is developing. Beven will pour a beer on a girl who may or may not have given one of her friends a bad look, or kick a girl in the Uterus with a spike heel during a fight. In fact, 94% of those stupid Chuck Norris facts circulating the Internet were originally written about Beven O'Brien.

10. In order to round out the list, points also need to be given to my older Brother Austin aka The Stinkinator, who may or may not see or speak with the family for months at a time and then suddenly grace us with his presence. No apologies. No phone calls. No regrets.

Thanks to all of you for your absolutely indifference. Love you.

Nora