Lindsay of Lindsayism.com once coined an amazing word: high-dea. The word pretty much defines itself, but if you are a little slow on the uptake, then check out some of her examples before advancing to my own recent high-deas below.

So, before Mary-Kate and Ashley, there were Tia and Tamera. (My apologies if your youth ended before 1994.) Oh man, "Sister, Sister" sure was a great television program. You had the awesome opening theme song ("Sistah… Sistah! Never knew how much I'd missed ya!") You had the ditzy, financially irresponsible mother Lisa and the uptight, vaguely homosexual dad Ray. And you had Tia and Tamera, the long-lost identical twins — identical only in appearance, that is! That's right, each twin had her own unique personality, one a tomboy and the other a bookworm, though they managed to find common ground through the mutual and understandable shame of being adopted. But for the most part, these trait differences emerged only when convenient to the plot.

This is where my high-dea comes into play: An "Odd Couple"-esque Tia and Tamera comeback sitcom, in which the twins are more than just school-ground opposites, but ideological contradictions. Tia is a granola-crunching, environment-protecting, Teva-wearing lesbian! Tamera is a Bible-thumping, collar-starching, fag-bashing Republican! And as fate (and the heads of UPN) would have it, the two sisters are somehow reunited and forced to share a residence. Just think of the antics. Just think of the headlines. Just think of the ratings!

Okay, so maybe that isn't the most brilliant high-dea of all time, but it did elicit a "Toby, you're a genius!" from my equally stoned friend. Tia and Tamera might not be the most marketable fit for the sitcom, but hey, it's a pretty original and interesting concept.

And now, my second and final high-dea of the evening. Just last week, I found myself reading a free copy of USA Today in my parents' hotel. A story about pain in children caught my eye: Because toddlers have a difficult time expressing in words the amount of pain they are feeling, doctors will often have them point at an Oucher Scale — a poster depicting images of expressive children in various degrees of pain (click on the image to the left for full-size). Why the doctor cannot assess a child's pain by simply looking at his or her face instead of making the kid point at a face on a poster, I'll never know. Still, this article sparked a high-dea.

My friends and I sometimes get fucked up — so fucked up that we are unable to speak coherently. When a person is in such an unresponsive state, it is often difficult to determine just how fucked up he or she is. Enter the Fucked Up Scale! When presented to a fucked up friend, he or she can simply point to a facial expression on the scale that corresponds to the level of intoxication he or she is experiencing. Brilliant!

Well, that's all the high-deas for now. But I can assure you, more are on the way.

Addendum: Ha ha, after reading this entry again the next morning, I now realize that these are the WORST high-deas EVER, ha ha ha.