humans are funny

Category: hmmm

  • Parrotfish for President!

    During this trip to Utila, I spent an abnormal amount of time staring at birds. It helped me to realize I don’t want to be a bird. Nope. I always thought I would because flying any time I want and shitting on people and cars seems like a dream. But I have a feeling I would really be frustrated without hands. Hands and arms are just the kind of limbs I like. I’m sorry if you don’t have any. You’re probably used to it. And I am sure birds are as well. But I would prefer not to pick everything up with my feet or mouth. It just seems unsanitary. I don’t even let people sit on my bed with clothes on, so picking everything up with my mouth wouldn’t do it for me. Plus, I’d have to taste everything I picked up, even materials for building my nest. That would be like licking the wood at Home Depot. Not for me, thanks.

    I went diving here in Utila, and I got to thinking that maybe I could deal with the no-hands thing if I were a fish. As evidenced in The Little Mermaid, living under the sea is pretty spectacular. There are rainbows of color at every turn, treasures, shipwrecks, and thingamabobs aplenty. After hours of quality time with the Honduran fish, I couldn’t tell two parrotfish apart (I think I’m racist.), but I did want to be one.

    I also saw a huge crab. His body was larger than my head and his legs almost as long as mine. I screamed underwater because, damn, that was a big crab. Utila has somewhat of a crab infestation. On land they scamper around like bunnies. This crab part has nothing to do with anything, but holy shit, that was a big crab.

    What I most noticed about the Utilan fish is their intelligence. They can easily gather themselves into a military-like formation in a millisecond. And to protect themselves from bigger fish, they travel really really really tightly packed in together so they look like one bigger fish. Brilliant. I wish I would have used this technique back when I was going to dance clubs.

    As far as relationships go, most fish prefer to travel with friends. Or maybe they’re into family or their parents are really protective. Either way, there are never fish traveling alone. I thought that was sweet. I’m quite a loner now, but I like friends. I think.

    Coral reefs are a marvel. Some look like flattened pieces of gum, some like brains, and others like they’re waving to you. Lots of corals around Honduras are dying because of the pollution, so there are plenty of areas that look like coral ghettos, devoid of color and torn apart. It’s obvious the drugs and shady stuff happen there. Still, it seemed most fish got along regardless of the neighborhoods from which they came. They’re above judgments– more reason to look past the lack of arms. They all seem to get on fine with different races as well. Sergeant fish swim with barracudas and clown fish with those weird ones who look like sticks. Fish seem fine with mingling with other species too. Some even eat the food that grows off the underbelly of bigger animals. Ok, that’s gross. I would never eat some mold that grew off my fat neighbor, but I like that fish are resourceful. And that they’re colorful. Deep down under the sea, the colors of fish are so bright and so vibrant, it’s as if you’re in an eighties music video or a neon factory. I could definitely be a fish. Not that I particularly liked the eighties, but I have a thing for neon (No, I didn’t like the eighties. Stop gasping. I hated my hair and my face, and I was too young to use cocaine for confidence. Sorry).

    Watching all these fish really brought to my attention the audacity of humans who think we’re the supreme species. Why? Because we have buildings and ring pops and penicillin? Fish don’t even need any of those. Because we can talk? Fish can communicate without having to remember stupid grammar rules. Because we have memories? Think of how many times you’ve heard someone say ‘I’ve been hurt in the past, so I’m just too scared to get close to you right now.’ Because we can kill other animals for our food? Oh yeah, cows put up such a fight. Because we can get dogs to wear sweaters? No comment.

    So, maybe next time we’re using our hands to flip the bird or turn on ‘Real Housewives of New Jersey’ or sext someone a picture of our penis, let’s just take a moment to be humble and remember our fish friends.

    I think the reason I love parrotfish so much is because they remind me of my Caboodle.

    The long and thin stick fish is not used in fish magazines to make all other women fish feel fat.

    Possible set for Poison video circa 1986 or fish abode?

  • I’m getting crabs in Honduras.

    This may be a way for me to say “Ha! Look at this crab. It’s very crabby. I’m off to look for more interesting things, so please excuse my lack of blog entries.” Or, I could possibly be saying, “Warning to all those considering sleeping with me when I get back: I have been having lots of unprotected sex with men who own large amounts of pubic hair and thus bugs who enjoy living in pubic hair.”

    This one is for you to decide.

  • It’s okay, Triceratops. I believe in you

    I used to think I was so mature for my age. In high school, I felt so much older than all my friends. I knew I was the only one who could be trusted to make really important decisions like choosing which Snapple would taste best with the Absolut Peppar someone stole. When they didn’t listen to me, I would scream and swear at them all. I’m really not sure how I had any friends.

    My actual lack of maturity is most evident when reminiscing about my senior trip to Cancun. All I cared about was roasting myself to the perfect shade of mahogany and getting wasted. The routine was: Spend all day drinking beer bongs on the white sand. Spend all night dancing and meeting guidos in the clubs.

    This vacation in Utila, Honduras is a little different.

    Not only is it 9pm and I’m already in bed, I also don’t really like mahogany anymore. On Saturday, I decided to relax at the beach for a few hours to read a book in the sun (read: roast myself to a mahogany shade, but don’t tell because then the ‘I’m so different’ thing doesn’t work). I stopped at a local eatery to try a Honduran specialty (la baleada). It’s like a quesadilla but with beans instead of cheese. Thumbs up.

    A pair of local guys pulled up and ordered beers, talking about the rapture. I knew right away I wouldn’t make it to the beach and get a tan. And I didn’t care (Okay, now I’m different. It works again.).

    According to these Utilan islanders, their families were part of the original Irish settlers to the island in 1840. One looked straight out of Good Will Hunting, a Bostonian with a fitted cap. Super white. The other was round and dark, a big smile missing its two front teeth. They both spoke English with an islander accent, almost Jamaican-sounding. The guy with the missing teeth told me he’s a dentist, and I settled in for a long and joyful conversation.

    Toothless Dentist: The world is not going to end tonight. No way. Some American is spreading lies again.

    American Looking Dude: An American?! Of course it’s an American. They’re idiots. All Americans are idiots. Hey miss, where you from?

    Me: Spain.

    Toothless Dentist: I know the rapture is not today because my religion says there is no date. I’m 7th Day Adventist, and the truth is that there was once a rapture scheduled for October 22, 1844 and everybody got ready for it. And on that night, the moon started to bleed and all the stars fell from the sky.

    He’s getting really animated.

    Toothless Dentist: All the stars just fell to the earth and the sky was totally black with only the bloody moon. And then, nothing happened. No rapture. It was a day of disappointment. And the next day, everyone who felt tricked started this new religion: 7th Day Adventist. And we don’t believe in any dates.

    Fascinating. Most of the islanders here are 7th Day Adventists, and it’s nice to understand what they might be talking about in one of the myriad of churches here. But somehow we got to talking about science. And that’s when Mr. Toothless Dentist lost some of his credibility.

    Toothless Dentist: There’s no such thing as dinosaurs. That’s all bullshit.

    American Looking Dude Who Hates Americans: Yeah. Stupid dinosaurs.

    Toothless Dentist: I found a skeleton once. It was very old. I could tell it was a teenage boy. But I couldn’t tell how long it had been buried. There’s no way they can tell how old dinosaur bones are. Millions of years! That’s ridiculous.

    He laughs and laughs.

    Me: I think they use a process called carbon dating.

    Toothless Dentist: Carbonation! I’ll tell you about Carbonation! Carbonation happened when the flood came. Noah’s flood. There was so much water that came from God that it squished everything down.

    He pretends to squish the Earth with his hands and scrunches his face for emphasis.

    Toothless Dentist: That flood destroyed everything. Nothing was left. Not a thing. Not a bone. So, that’s why I know there’s no such thing as those dinosaurs that they say are millions of years old. Because there’s no such thing as evidence of anything that is over 4000 years old. It was all destroyed.

    Me: So… You think the earth is only 4000 years old?

    Toothless Dentist: I know it is. I know the truth. And you can know the truth too if you just accept Jesus. What do you do?

    Me: I’m a writer.

    Toothless Dentist: Don’t write about me.

    I love that this man based everything on the night the moon bled but thought saving the date for a rapture was ludicrous.
    And then it dawned on me that we all think everyone’s beliefs are so crazy when they differ from our own. I thought those guys were crazy. They thought Harold Camping was crazy. And if they’d have asked me my beliefs (reincarnation), they would have thought I was crazy too. And sometimes I do as well– we come back over and over again? Sounds like something invented for people who can’t let go.

    The lesson is: We’re all crazy. Even you guys, atheists. To think that this is all for nothing also sounds pretty iffy. In actuality, whatever happens after we die probably IS crazy. But we shouldn’t judge another’s crazy ideas when we’re all just grasping onto whatever crazy makes us feel better.

    Except… that rapture thing was pretty stupid.
    And… That flood thing is bullshit.

    I’d also like to note that, just to be safe, I looked up carbon dating when I got home. It sounds legit. Not as legit as flood carbonation, but almost.

  • God Reschedules Rapture

    All righty! The blog post that started HERE is now in Funny or Die format here:

    But, be warned! There was some improvisation going on. I didn’t know he would call the Bible trash. Yah, he calls the Bible trash. So… maybe you shouldn’t watch it if you love Bibles. But, hey, it’s for fun. It’s a funny thing. That’s why the people who are out to get the South Park guys and that other cartoonist dude who drew the Prophet Muhammad will totally understand that I was just joking when I wrote the line in here that describes what the Prophet Muhammad looks like. Right? All in jest. Besides, no time to be mad or offended when we’re all about to die. Happy Rapture!

    Also, Antonio Sabato Jr!

  • Cut! Let’s up the douche factor a notch, guys. Take 5. Action!

    I have to admit I’ve never ever really felt very cool. Even when I was considered kinda ‘cool’ in high school, I usually felt like it would be just a minute before someone figured out I wasn’t cool and relegated me to the nerdy table with the mouth breathing band members.

    The horror!

    In college, I thought it was cooler to not be part of the ‘cool’ fraternity system, so I was definitely not looked upon as cool. Thankfully, the whole notion of cool sort of dissipates after that unless you and your group of friends still hit bars in troops with popped collars, thinking you’re cool. In that case, yes, you’re totally cool.

    The other day, though, I finally felt cool for the first time. (I will stop using the word ‘cool’ soon. Promise.).

    It started when I wrote a blog post about interviewing God (it’s here if you haven’t read it). I felt I had to talk to him because I think it’s only fair that we have a chat if it’s true we’re all going to die on May 21st, like many Christian groups are saying (actually one Christian group is saying it and it’s not really a group– more like a couple of dudes. But they’re buying up billboards in LA to make us think this is the big one). I asked God lots of questions. He gave me no info and turned out to be sort of douchey.

    I tried to sell my time with God to Vice magazine as a follow up to this interview with the leader of those couple of Christian dudes. They didn’t want it. I didn’t get so much blog traffic that day. I liked the post, but it seemed to be just ‘meh’ to everyone else.

    Until I got a call from Funny or Die. They wanted to shoot it as a sketch for their front page! Ok, this is where I started feeling cool. Started.
    Since it has to air before May 21st, we were suddenly on a production fast track.  Derek and Kelly, the directing team, found a director of photography and props and made creative phone calls and shot lists. The Funny or Die team sent out a net to cast the right celebrities to play ME, and God. WHAT? Someone to play me!!! They booked a hotel suite as the interview location and spent a few grand to get the whole thing running.

    WHAT!? All this because of something I thought of at some coffee shop in Venice just days before.

    Coooooooool.

    When I walked on set that day, the cool was rising. Both actors were from TV shows!!! Kyle Bornheimer from Perfect Couples (among other things) and Janina Gavankar from True Blood (Yes, an Indian actress played me. I would LOVE to be Indian. Why am I not Indian? Also, why don’t I watch TV? I hate my excuse about it blocking me from my creative process because then I look like the douche. At least I’m a cool douche. But I felt horrible for not having seen either show. I wish I’d had some good phrases lined up to say like, “You were so great in that pool scene last season.” I had nothing.). There was a hair and makeup lady at the ready, a guy with a sound boom… It was a full production of something I wrote. But the moment when I felt I had truly arrived was when the PA brought in the craft services.

    Craft. Services. My sketch was worthy of Wheat Thins, hummus, donuts, coffee, and plenty of bottled water. Plenty! Like, we could have each drunk three or FOUR! And the hummus was that really good creamy kind.

    100% Cool.

    I didn’t get to call ‘action’ or hold that clappy black and white thing like I originally planned on begging to do, but that’s only because the cool factor rose tremendously when a surprise cameo was scheduled. This surprise model graced my walls growing up. I had his calendar up from 1993-98. I was willing to accidentally mix up dates just to have this man’s pectoral muscles hang on my wall. This guy is hot. With a pack of six. I couldn’t go around set acting like I was grateful for the hummus and bottled water. I had to pose against the wall to make it look like I wasn’t posing. I had to laugh and flip my hair back casually as if shooting something I wrote was totally boring. He came in, shook everyone’s hand, read a few lines, and left. But HE SHOOK MY HAND. I didn’t tell him about the calendar. But, we did make eye contact for at least .43 seconds. I think he likes me. He’s probably going to see my name on the sketch and click to this blog and then Facebook and then email to tell me how cool I am. Yes, for sure. I can feel it. (Is anyone who uses the word ‘cool’ actually cool? Now I’m having second thoughts.)

    The best part of the day was that he wasn’t the best part. The best part was watching the actors improv. I’ve taken my share of improv classes, and maybe once I made someone laugh, but these guys were pros. So funny. They took what I wrote, added to it, and made it their own. Like Levi’s. Or Burger King. Or the hundreds of other brands that tell you to personalize their shit to make it something completely unique even though it could never be unique because it’s a tea or something everyone else already has. What they did was definitely their own. In a good way.

    Did I mention a celebrity got to play me?! There’s about to be a biopic out. Ok, not really. It’s a three-minute sketch, but there were Wheat Thins there!
    The WORLD PREMIERE is This Thursday. I’ll post it. Please watch it. Then we can all be cool together. And I’ll finally stop saying ‘cool.’


    Wheat thins!