_____ as a goat

So the wife and I are watching Dirty Jobs on the Discovery channel, and if you're not already a fan you'll be one after one or two shows. Anyway, this episode features a terra cotta factory and how they make everything out of this earthen material, from pipes to building pieces.

Mike is describing how the large ornate block he's been working on will spend weeks drying before it is fired and glazed. The segment's host, a dorman at the factory answers Mike's question as to what is that particular block's purpose. The foreman explains that it is "the top front part of a wall on a building" (or close to that). And I tilt my head, raise my brow and say: "a cornice?"

Why the fuck do I know that?

Of all the bits of information that I've been told and have read or heard at all the different moments and experiences in my life, my stupid brain decides to trap that nugget.

Fucking A.

I miss it. That feeling you get when you know that you're really good at what you do and nothing can touch you or take that away. It comes to me less and less and I miss it.

"You know, like anything can be great, anything can be great. I don't care, BRICKLAYING can be great, if a guy knows. If he KNOWS what he's doing and why and if he can make it come off."

I want it back.

So one night many years ago I went to jail. I'll regale you with the details later ('tis a captivating tale of stuttering pleas, burly sergeants, illustrated men and yes, the requisite shemale). But I had a thought this morning, while in that place from where all good thoughts come, and decided that I wasn't "arrested" but instead I had "proactively participated in a self-imposed Scared Straight program".

Will that look good on my resume?