humans are funny

Category: diapers

  • What I learned on my Christmas break:


    *Winter is actually great. Since you’re always wearing a coat while out, you never have to change your clothes or even change out of your pajama top. Comfort! And… weird smells.

    *For my entire life, I’ve had a dyslexic ‘YMCA.’ My ‘C’ has been backwards. I’m shocked. I’ve been living a lie for so many years. Thankfully, nobody judges you on these things. Or do they? Maybe that’s the reason they called me Laurenne-with-the-backwards-C-in-the-YMCA-dance in junior high. Totally get it now.

    *There’s nothing like people who knew you when you had braces. Getting together as thirty-year-olds is so much better than getting together as thirteen-year-olds. And not just because there’s alcohol. Since these chicks have woken up at my house with their heads on mice, they know me. There’s nothing better than a post-bar, 2am, trip to Walmart to buy diapers with old pals. It was amazing. And it was not because I got to gloat about not having to buy diapers. I legitimately liked seeing what my friends have to buy for their big families. Ok, yes, I did think about my bare cabinets and the lone parmesan in my fridge, but I did not think I was superior. Swear.

    *It’s really not the best idea to try out your stand-up routine for your family as they sit down to dinner. Yeah. Jokes just aren’t the same when not told to a dark room full of drunks. Especially if they’re jokes about the death of your father who is also the the brother or uncle to most people at the table. That’s just awkward.

    *We all wear glasses with different lenses. I’m sitting on a plane next to a Marine who’s telling me all about his knot training. It sounds so cool that I’m thinking about becoming a Marine. Then he tells me his salary. Definitely not becoming a Marine. I tell him I can only tie that one knot– the kind for nooses. (I don’t know why that’s the one I know. I just do, okay). He looks at me shocked. He can’t believe this white woman next to him just told him about how she can tie a noose. He’s a southern black guy. Oops. The crazy part is that the word ‘noose’ causes only visions of suicide for me. Same object. Completely different ways of seeing it. Hmmmm… It just got deep up in here.

    *The airlines think we’re dumb. We are dumb. Because we have not yet revolted in response to charging for baggage. Even so, airlines, I’m pretty sure we’ve seen a seat belt before. I know they’re not exaaaactly like the ones in our cars, guys. But, we get it. We get the idea. You can stop showing us now.

    *I don’t get Christmas decorations. Oh, there’s the plushy reindeer who guarded the tissues last year.

    *I hate LA. I did my taxes to find that I’ve spent about a grand in LA traffic violations this year. A THOUSAND DOLLARS. Do you know how many diapers I could buy for my friends at Walmart with that? Not that I would (because I’m selfish and vain and I’d spend it on laser hair removal). $530 just because that “camera” said I blew a light? What does he know? It was self-defense.

    *It doesn’t matter what you say to that guy in the mall. He will always want to polish your nails. My mom and I tried ‘No, thanks’ at first. Then we lied, ‘We already have a nail buffer.’ In response to his unrelenting persistence, we also tried to blurt out ‘vagina’, ‘poodle’ and ‘avian flu.’ And he still wanted to buff a nice sheen on our digits. So… we did what we had to do. And now my mom might have to go to jail. It was self-defense.

  • I don’t know. What do you want to do?

    For the past eight months, I have been asking and answering the most important questions: Where do you want to have dinner? What do you want to do today? What country do you want to see next?
    I sometimes felt like a lunatic, sitting on a lone hotel bed talking to myself:

    “Ok, do we have enough money to see south India?”
    “I don’t think so. Plus I’d rather go to Kerala when we have much more time.”
    “I know! But who knows when we’ll be back. We should definitely go.”
    “Oh, you’re such a free spirit.”
    “No, you are.”

    Ah, those were the days. Now, upon crossing into the West, I’ve found myself in the arms of several friends. Shit. I mean, I want to see my friends. I have yearned for some time now to be in the presence of someone who already knows me and why I’m me, someone who doesn’t need to ask from where I come, how old I am, and how many siblings I have (and then, like everyone does, say ‘Oh, you’re an only child. You must be spoiled. Ha ha ha.’).

    BUT… This is the abrupt end to my independence. Now I will have to be asking questions and waiting for someone else to answer. And when those answers are not the same answers I would give, I might have to…. compromise! Yikes. No No No!

    Compromise!? Why? How? It’s all hogwash, I say. But these aren’t travelers who will recede to faraway lands and occasionally say hello to me on Facebook. These are people I’ll be seeing for the rest of my life. So here I go, armed with phrases like ‘I’m open to suggestions,’ ‘It’s your turn to choose a restaurant.’ and of course, ‘I could go either way.’

    Alas, the days of letting the wind carry me wherever I please have ended. I guess I could possibly work to prolong them, but now I will have to ask out loud, “Is it ok if the wind carries us to wherever we please today? Did the wind just carry you to a place that pleases you or shall we use our feet instead of the wind to get us out of here?”

    Sigh.
    It’ll be okay. As long as my friends mostly want to do what I say.

    Roberto wanted to go bowling. I wanted to drink wine in a cave. Here, we are in a cave. Compromising at slow start.

    Melissa wanted to go to the Prado and sketch Goya’s works. I wanted to go shopping. We compromised by shopping.

    Um, my compromising was not going well here. I tied Catalina to a leash so she would go Javier Bardem hunting with me. And I made her wear a diaper so she wouldn’t slow us down.

    Here the compromising is getting better. I came to this park because she wanted to. But when it was boring, I pushed her over the ledge. Sorry ’bout that Catalina. How’s your cast?