It was a quiet Tuesday morning like many in late November: 41°F/5°C, overcast, and 30.38 in/1028.78 mb barometric pressure. I sat comfortably at my workstation, smartly clad in the mesh “Dukes of Hazzard” tank top I wear every Tuesday and my newly laundered “Hello Kitty” leg warmers. As the soporific whir of my ab-sculpting neuromuscular electrical stimulation belt beckoned me to a land of oneiric delights, my eyelids grew heavy. Fighting the urge to sleep, I began work diligently crafting a database schema modeled on the seemingly ordinary data of one Mr. John Smith. And that’s when things started to get WEIRD.