We measure our lives the way we measure our history, in paradigm shifts. Paradigm shifts are the universe’s way of saying “Duh, dumbshits, you didn’t think of that before? SRSLY?”

I’m talking about the small realizations that divide our lives –and sometimes the very existence of our species– into “Before” and “After.”

“Hey Thag, you ever notice that this flinty kinda rock makes fire sparks when you bang it just right?”

“Och! Angus! I ate a moldy orange and me white blood cells just spiked and cured me clap!”

“Cool fireworks, Ling Po Xing. Say, you ever think about maybe packing a metal slug into the top of that Roman Candle and pointing it at that asshole, Wong Ding Bieber?”

“…And that’s our new product enhancement that we’ll roll out next year, the pulsating shower head. Any ques– Hey, why are all the women in the boardroom looking at me like wide-eyed moths?”

Yeah. I had two forehead slappers yesterday. I spent Monday and Tuesday night getting my portfolio(s) together for my job interview on Wednesday. I suppose I’m blessed in that — after 25+ years of continuous employment — I’ve got more cool Show-and-Tell to present at an interview than I can fit in one three-ring binder. It has been four years since I interviewed, so I had to compile all my recent exhibits, and then evaluate what these particular employers would/would not be impressed by. These employers work in a highly creative environment, so I included my favorite creative examples.

Long story short: I started out with four binders’ worth of sample materials and I couldn’t get everything I wanted to show (and everything they might want to see) into one binder.  I moved all the boring stuff to a USB drive I could leave behind for their evaluation. As I was driving to the interview, I looked over at my two presentation binders sliding around the passenger seat and *DING!* That moment of clarity, that paradigm shift…

“Uh, Shawn…. ” I said to myself, “You do know we’ve got a twelve inch tablet collecting dust on the coffee table, right? You could have shown these creative professionals that you’re not ‘that old guy.’ You could have saved the printer ink, extra-bright presentation paper, and protective sleeves and just loaded this all into a presentation you could swipe through with your finger.”

Sigh. Shit. Thanks, Red. True dat.

Never again. Never again. Tablet presentations from here-on-out. Welcome to 2014, Blobor.

On the drive home came the second revelation, courtesy of a local DJ. Topic: Guardians of the Galaxy trailer. Specifically Blue Swede’s cover of BJ Thomas’s Hooked on a Feeling.

My mom had the BJ Thomas version of the song on a 45.

My brother later bought the Blue Swede “Ooogah Chakka!” version of Hooked on a Feeling on 45 when it came out, 1974.  We had them both. I grew up hearing both versions.  I’ve had the Blue Swede version of Hooked on a Feeling on my iPod/iPhone/iTunes for over a decade.

That’s forty years of “Ooogah Chakka.” Forty!

And yesterday I heard the DJ pronounce “Blue Swede” as “Blue Sweed.”

“You dumbass!” I shouted at the radio. “It’s not ‘Blue Sweed,’ it’s spelled that way, but it’s pronounced ‘Blue Suede.'”

I googled it as soon as I got home. Er… Nope. The group is Swedish. It’s pronounced “Sweed.”

But you already knew that, didn’t you? Not a revelation for you, just me, right?  Whoopsie.

Further proof that every time I think I know everything, life zooms out a bit to reveal that I don’t know anything. A fish has no concept of water.  …Unless it’s pulsating. …After a thirtieth viewing of Magic Mackerel on DVD.

So what are your forehead slappers of your latent adulthood? Share the embarrassment.