humans are funny

Author: laurenne

  • Dear Blog,

    I miss you! We are amazing together– you with your letters and me with my words.
    I started a new job again, so I haven’t been around much. It’s not you though. It’s me. I swear! I know you hate when I say that.
    Starting a new job is tough. I have to learn the new lingo, find out where they store the coffee, and discern the best seat in the conference room for hiding during meetings. Plus, it’s now the time to be really smiley and make sure everyone likes me.
    This job is stellar so far– many friendly people who complain about their jobs but not as much as the other miserable people throughout advertising who complain about their jobs.
    And my client is a bigtime dating website. Not only has working there made me feel like a mistaken fool for being single, it’s also making me question everything: Relationships. Marriage. Babies. My weird pattern of dating helpless men.
    I know you think I should do less thinking and more writing. I should! I want to. As soon as I learn everyone’s name, I will fill you up with long, sexy words. Yes, I will Blog. Oh yes I will.
    But now, it’s 1am. Just got home from work a few hours ago. Gonna stream me some Larry David until my tired little eyes see no more. Until my maniacal brain stops imagining a lonely future of pizza delivery and Murphy Brown reruns.
    See you soon, Bloggy. Love you. 


  • Dear World,

    Sorry for destroying the ozone layer and now the sea.
    Oh, and for thinking everyone should be just like me.

    Smell ya later,

    America

  • Shit. I forgot to remember the dead veterans.

    This guy hates me.

    Oh no. I’m a horrible American. Today was the day specifically set aside for remembering fallen soldiers, and I totally dropped the ball. I saw a dog wearing a yellow ribbon plus several girls in American flag bikinis, and still I did not at all say or think about my fellow patriots who gave their lives so I could frolic freely on the beach or cower at my desk, freaking out about what to write next.

    I should be fired from America. But, then again, I’m simply sticking to the new age values I learned last year, which include living in the moment. I try to spend some of the day really concentrating on not thinking of the past or future. Memories are dangerous. They can be good. Like when you’re mad at your friend and you remember the time in 1992 when she lent you her brand new see-through blouse from Contempo Casuals. In times like those, memories mean forgiveness.

    But then there are the other times. The times when memory means pain and embarrassment:

    1. In mid conversation. When you’re talking to a coworker about how much you hate the name ‘Siobhan’ because you just don’t get it and can’t figure out how to even say it. And then the ol’ memory chimes in to tell you that the coworker’s daughter is…yep… Siobhan. Note: This also occurs when gossiping about gay people or being racist.

    2. During sex. You’re almost there. Everything’s going swimmingly, and then you remember you have an 8am conference call the next morning. Don’t even kid yourself. Just get up right then and start ironing your outfit.

    3. When it’s too late. You remember using the stove this morning. But you can’t really remember if you turned it off. But you’re already in your office parking lot and can’t go back. So you worry about it all day. Thanks a lot, Memory.

    4. Comparisons. You’re with your new boyfriend at the movies. He doesn’t drink sodas, and he’s brought some almonds and granola to snack on. This is why you like him. He’s healthy. And can plan ahead. But you find yourself dwelling on the memory of your ex boyfriend who used to get a big Cherry Coke with two straws and a box of Dots and popcorn that he would pair up with the Dots and you would fight over the green ones and, man, those were the days. And you kinda want to text him from the bathroom.

    5. Unexpectedly. You’re driving down Sunset Boulevard and you see an ad for a movie starring Robert Duval, who was your grandma’s favorite. And you reach for the phone to call her before you realize it’s been two years since she died. And you’re suddenly spilling tears all over your car and yelling ‘Why? Why? Why?’ to your steering wheel.

    6. When it’s creepy. You remember meeting this girl at a party years ago, and you go say hi but she doesn’t remember you at all, which is totally fine because you look like a lot of people and that can sometimes be confusing. Unfortunately, you remember everything, and you say, “You had just gotten your appendix out when we met…. How’s that going? And how about those cooking classes? Did you finish those? Oh, and you mentioned something about your mother not respecting you. Have you resolved that issue with her?” You’re the weirdo for having a good memory. (Rahul does this all the time, which is why I’m scared to tell him anything about myself.)

    7. Upon inconvenience. You remember something so good and juicy and hilarious that you must write it down, but you don’t have a pen. And you promise yourself you’re going to remember this later but you rarely do. This case is most prevalent with jokes and names of people you are supposed to email.

    When memory doesn’t show up, it’s bad as well– its lack often proving quite inconvenient: You want to sound really smart but you can’t remember a big vocabulary word. You forget to take your lunch to work even though you left it right in front of the door so you wouldn’t forget to take it. You can’t remember someone’s name after you’ve already sat at a dinner table with him for hours, and the time threshold of re-asking has already passed.

    It’s a frightening enigma, memory is. And I take the stand that Americans should not mess with memorializing. I think it’s plain rude that our country would ask us to delve into our memories on a day like today. Today is not for remembering. Today is for letting the world know that it’s now okay to wear white. So, go forth. In white pants and white tunics and white socks. And think not about the past. Unless the recent past includes you painting a bench. You should definitely remember if you just painted a bench so that you don’t go about ruining your new white pants.

  • 2009: I love your oddness and all that stuff I did during you.


    Remember that trip I went on? It was that really fun and soul-searching one that had me skipping through Southeast Asia, India, and strange places like Papua New Guinea? Lasted about 9 months?
    It’s over!
    I know it’s been over for a while. I know this.
    But I still can’t believe it. It consumed me for all of 2008 and 2009.
    Now that I’m unemployed again, I’ve had time to reflect on 2010. It’s gone so fast. And furious. Not really furious. But fast. And busy. And where did it all go? I don’t know, but I already miss it. And I miss 2009. And I know I’m not supposed to dwell on the past, but I must indulge, just this one time. This one tiny time. Ok, along with several other times because the past is what brought me to right now, and I’m pretty psyched about right now even though I pretend to complain about it. I wrote this poem on the road. And, now, here is my updated response:

    I miss being a foreigner.
    But it’s nice to talk about grilling and Legos and have people understand.

    I miss being detached from everything.
    But knowing the details makes me feel important.

    I miss having absolutely no responsibility.
    But it feels grown-up to be responsible.

    I miss getting lost on purpose.
    But I secretly love my iPhone GPS.

    I miss monks.
    Yes, actually I really miss monks.

    I miss being able to bargain for every single thing.
    But I don’t miss bargaining for every single thing.

    I miss making instant new friends every day.
    But there’s nothing like sharing wine with old friends.

    I miss trusting total strangers.
    Oh wait, I still do that.

    I miss not knowing what celebrities are doing.
    Why am I obsessed with Spencer and Heidi? Please help.

    I miss being completely unfindable.
    But I also like hiding in my own bed.

    I miss wearing the same thing every day.
    Oh wait, I still do that too.

    I miss the unbridled curiosity about me and my country.
    But it’s nice to walk to a store without anyone asking a question. Sometimes.

    I miss forgetting what day it is.
    I’m pretty sure it’s Thursday.

    I miss not worrying about my career or the future or finances.
    Maybe I should stop doing that now.

    I miss not knowing where I’m going until I step outside.
    But I vow to do that more often.

    I miss big fat meals of stuff I’ve never heard of for three bucks.

    And strong Asian women who want to take me under their wings.

    And reading entire books on long bus trips.

    And real, silent wilderness.

    And trains filled with curious people who share food and smiles.

    And hour-long conversations in the language of hand gestures.

    And I just miss Traveling. I miss the whole damn thing. But I’ll see it again soon.

    For now: Living by the beach & Souplantation it is. I know a few guys here in Venice who speak only in hand gestures anyway, so it’s almost like Traveling.

    Yeah, that’s me in 2009. Me and my friend, The Great Barrier Reef. Now I’m drinking coffee and listening to hipsters talk about their bicycles.

  • I’ll be signing autographs by the Minestrone.

    Congratulations! Today, you are reading the blog of The Most Versatile Blogger. Yes, I am THE big winner of THE biggest prize among the blogging community! What, What? Makes a girl wanna use some exclamation points!!!!!! Some people are saying that this prestigious award is more of a chain letter because it really involves any awarded blogger to award fifteen other bloggers, creating sort of a chain, er, community. Those people are jealous rats. This award is big time, and I will wear it proudly like I wear my special occasion expensive shoes and my high school graduation ring. Just kidding. I don’t really wear that. (Sorry for begging you to buy that for me, Mom.) So what if pretty much every blogger on the internet is about to receive the same award? So what if anyone with a blog can award anyone else with a blog? This is my time, dammit. Today, I am The Most Versatile Blogger, and that’s how it goes. I win, bitches! I win. I win. I win.

    My duties as winner are to:
    *thank the person who gave me this award.
    *share seven things about myself.
    *pass the award along to 15 bloggers who I deem fantastic.
    *gloat all day long

    Jessica at Alone with Cats & Margaret at The Crymes Syndicate have both awarded me such prestige. Well, Margaret awarded anyone who read her blog, which means ME. If you also want this award, all you have to do is read her blog. But don’t tell me that because I might not feel so special then.
    These girls are both candid and hilarious, and I encourage everyone to check them out. I have just recently come to learn about this huge world of bloggers who support each other and read each others entries. These chicks have been so welcoming and encouraging and supportive. I hope I get to meet them one day, so I don’t feel like a internet psycho for loving them through cyberspace.

    Now on to the seven things about myself, as if this blog wasn’t already shrouded in self-importance.

    1. I prefer bar soap to the fancy shmancy ‘body wash.’

    2. I’m currently taking a stand-up comedy class. That’s right. You will all soon be obligated to come see me at an open mic, where I will be raunchy and revealing and make you squirm in your seat. Especially when you realize I’m making jokes about you.

    3. My father committed suicide. I guess that’s not so funny, but it’s also not so horrible either. You know that weird feeling you got when you read that? Sort of discomfort mixed with sorrow and helplessness and a lack of words accompanied by some awkward fidgeting? That’s how most people react, but it’s my new mission to end the bad stigma. Suicide is simply another accident, like a car crash. The person committing the act would surely take it back if he could.

    4. My first job was at a local video rental place, where I rented porn to old men who would return it (to me, not to the drop box) after a few hours. Gross.

    5. I’m writing from Souplantation, an all-you-can-eat buffet with horrific carpeting. I can’t seem to write at home– too distracted by the food in my fridge and the surfaces that need dusting. For some reason, the array of muffins and soups helps me think.

    6. I like my age now. And I can’t wait to be a really cute old lady a la Betty White. What’s in the middle scares the shit out of me.

    7. People often ask me how I’m always so happy (well, after my trip they do.). I think the secret is that I love and trust everyone at first sight. Until they prove to me otherwise. None of this ‘gain my love shit.’ If I know you, I love you. For example, the couple in their fifties beside me with 3 plates each heaped in foods from the buffet. They’re both wearing sunglasses inside. And then there’s the Jewish couple passing out cookies to everyone and trying to make new friends. Love. Love. Love them.

    8. If I didn’t have to pay off my student loans, I’d be in a hut in Africa, where I would be on a mission to help lots of people and educate about AIDS. I wouldn’t stop writing this here blog, though. It’s kinda my favorite thing to do. Thanks for reading it.

    9. I think it would be cool to have a glass eye.

    10. If I could be any age, I’d pick 3.

    Aw naw. That’s 10 things. Cannot get enough of writing about myself. Me. Me. Me.

    And now on to the new winners, who must claim their prize tomorrow so as not to interrupt my gloating (also, if you decide not to accept this chain letter, er, award, I won’t be offended): Rahul @ I Wear T-Shirts… Sometimes, Loralee @ Glass Half Optimistic, Rebecca @ Loving Living Small, Dewan @ Imperfect Enjoyment (buy his book too), Kelly @ IbbyDibbyDow, Rich @ Round Seventeen, Ernessa @ Fierce And Nerdy, Metalia @ Metalia, Sabrina @ Leap And the Mosquito Net Will Appear, Ann @ Dr. Strangemom, Kathy @ Mama Kat’s Losin It, and really anyone else who wants some props. I’m just getting into this whole reading-other-people’s-blogs thing. So make some suggestions as well. These are also good ones who’ve already had this illustrious honor bestowed upon them: The Pretend Writer, Best of Fates, Midwestern MamaH, Bite the Bedbugs

    Uh oh. Gotta go. I see some paparazzi by the mac-n-cheese. I’m big time, y’all.