Ya know how you have those moments when you suddenly remember a moment from your past and you get all nostalgic and realize that you've changed but you haven't - you're older but still pretty much the same? And then you think, "Wow, I wish I could recapture some of that uninhibited creativity from my youth." Well, I'm only twenty-one so I don't really have many moments like that but, I recently flashed back to a memory from high school which I think captures my odd sense of humor very well.
I was with a group of my friends and I was telling them about how funny it would be if someone ate a Snickers bar with a fork and a knife. No one does that, right? So, of course we decided to do it. But, of course, we had to take things to the next level. We set out the white table cloth, we got out the good china, we lit candles, and my friend Laura whipped out her violin. I sat there at the table and ate that whole Snickers bar with a fork and a knife in the dim lighting accompanied by the violin.When I finished we all laughed and went about our day - we didn't take pictures or videotape it or anything. Just doing it was enough.
And while I miss those weird moments from high school, I still feel like my sense of humor is pretty much the same and if ever I was confronted with another opportunity to eat a Snickers bar with a fork and a knife, I wouldn't hesitate.
My friend Megan recently introduced me to a new term, a term which I have just discovered directly applies to my entire personality: kidding on the square. Urban Dictionary (the most reliable reference source on the internet) defines it simply as "joking, but also meaning it." For example, let's say that it's 9am and you just met up with some friends when you suddenly look at them and say "Hey, we should totally be wasted right now. Wanna go to a bar?" Then you follow it with an awkward laugh and a glance around hoping that the "joke" is met with actual approval. My problem is that all of my jokes have a little bit of truth to them, and sometimes, I end up hurting people's feelings (completely unintentionally) or coming across as a total asshole.
Now, allow me to dig myself out of that ditch. My jokes are usually harmless (I hope. If you are sitting at home right now crying because of something I said to you, please let me know). For instance I comment on someone's sweater or something by being like "Wow, you definitely won't get hit with a car wearing that." Laugh. Awkward pause "I'm joking. The sweater doesn't actually offend me, I was just commenting on the fact that it was a very bright color." OR oftentimes my jokes come across as blatant narcissism. For example, I was walking down the street once with my friend Beth freshmen year and I turned to her and said "Ya know, I don't understand why people have so much trouble getting their work done. I get eight hours of sleep every night and I still manage to get everything done." I was joking, but I meant it. And it didn't come across as a joke to Beth, it came across as a bitchy remark. That moment haunts me to this day. Every time I complain about how stressed I am or about how I'm behind schedule on a paper, one of my classmates will gladly put on a smirk and say "Oh, I thought you always managed to get your work done on time?" To which I typically respond, "I'm sorry, but a lot of things just come to me easily. I can't help being Asian."
So I guess we can safely conclude that the more you get to know me, the more you realize that behind the kind Southern aura and the goofy smile is a sassy bitch waiting to strike. To the untrained eye, however, I'm only joking. ;)
It is a common misconception that Asians are not suited for operating vehicles. I mean, check out this Asian lady in Family Guy. If Family Guy makes fun of it, you know it must be true. I, however, have been very against this stereotype because, well - I'm Asian. And I take pride in my driving abilities. But today, I was not so proud. I felt like a true, stereotypical Asian. In fact, after reading this story, you may refer to me as - a gay-sian.
I had plans after rehearsal to go out with friends at Uno's (ya know, the most hoppin' place in the greater Boston area after 11pm). Our plans to go to "Glamorous Night" at the club were thwarted by the fact that we were all just shipooped (yeah, I went there). The only snafu in the plan was that I didn't know how to get to Uno's, so I was to follow Megan. I started out strong (following her out of the parking lot successfully) but then I got distracted as I so often do. "The Color Purple" popped up on my iPod and when that happens, I have no choice but to act out the scenes (with fervent emotion). So while I was busy saying "Nah, Celie. God not some gloomy old man like dah pictures you seen of him. God not a man at all" (etc. etc. You know the song, I'm sure) the car in front of me was no longer the Honda it used to be, it was a Jetta. I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to be following someone. Where was I going? I don't know. My brain had completely shut off ("Good ruck evelybody erse!!!") I was on Bacon Street and a rush of embarrassment came over me.
I had officially out-gayed, out-Asianed myself. I got distracted by "The Color Purple." Megan called me, "You missed the turn." Ashamed, I was like "Yeah, I don't know how that happened..." but once I got to Uno's I confessed. It was just too funny to let slide.
I am often disconcerted by the ads that Facebook targets at me. They make me feel like a very two-dimensional person. Like, just because I like to listen to Britney Spears on occasion doesn't mean I want to see some other two-bit pop star in concert. And just because I'm gay doesn't mean I wanna meet hot single men in the Boston area "now." Most of the time, though, I am able to look past them and focus on the things that really matter on Facebook (like whose wall-to-wall is the most outrageous, who posted some fun drunk pics, who likes my status etc.) This particular ad, however, baffled me then and continues to baffle me now. I didn't click it for fear of what I would find on the other side... but what in my interest category made Facebook decide that this would be a great ad to throw my way?
No, Facebook, I don't "like." In fact, I dislike with utter confusion and discomfort. Nothing about this makes sense. What is a Morphsuit? Why is it wearing headphones and glasses? What's with the weird quote and the strangely punctuated ". Tom, Poole."? Why did they feel the need to tell me that "it's true" as if I thought anything about this ad was false? I don't plan on getting my Morphsuit today, or ever for that matter, so stop it Facebook.
Me: I'd like to unpack your bags...
Beth: be my guest! ;)
Me: oh baby. I didn't know your luggage would be so quick to arrive.
Beth: oh no, you're wrong, i'm never quick
Me: oh, am I gonna have to file a missing baggage report and have you mailed to me?
Beth: that might be best... even though it's not the speediest delivery, it's always the best quality
Me: alright. wow...I should stop. Your half of the metaphor is much sexier than mine.I was gonna be like "gah, I knew I should've either split you into two bags or just taken some weight off of you and brought you as carry-on"
I'm Not as Put Together As I Pretend to Be
My brain is quite often on "space cadet mode." Here are a few things I do when I'm in this state. I'm sure many of you can relate (or, at least, I hope many of you can relate).
1. I put the remote in the refrigerator.
2. I bike or drive past the road I was supposed to turn onto (multiple times, usually).
3. I lose everything. I lose my pen/scissors/tape a million times while I'm trying to complete a project. I lose sunglasses, water bottles, and my keys constantly. I've lost my shoes. I've gone through 6 iPods and about 8 digital cameras (I'll stop there. This could be a whole new list.).
4. I take a tray of drinks into the bathroom at work (mentioned this in another post, but still funny).
5. I put balsamic vinegar in my fried rice instead of soy sauce OR I pour balsamic vinegar on my pancakes instead of syrup (the latter was a much worse experience).
6. I lock myself out of my apartment.
7. I try to pay for stuff with my student ID.
8. Sometimes, and don't judge too harshly on this one, I go into the bathroom to just pee or poo but I end up taking off all of my clothes. Once naked, I then have a moment of confusion and decide to either put my clothes back on or go ahead and take a shower (we've all done that, though, right?) I've even taken my shirt off in a public restroom only to have a moment of confusion and put it back on.
People say that dreams reflect our inner desires. We can discover the truth about ourselves by analyzing our dreams. What do you think this one means about me, then? Please keep in mind that I am naturally very dramatic, so my dreams are very vivid and high drama.
I had just committed a high crime and I was sentenced to live out the rest of my days on the side of a volcano. The crazy thing about this volcano? It was housed in a giant warehouse. So there I was, sweating profusely on the side of this volcano-in-a-warehouse, suffering my sins and I was fighting to get to the top because at the top of this volcano was the greatest gift of all: weed that never burnt out. That's right, an endless bowl.
So I finally made it to the top and I grabbed two huge handfuls of the priceless greens and I bolted my way down the mountain to the door of the warehouse. I slowly crept out of the door (apparently the security in this volcano prison was not very high, since they didn't even lock the door) and I started to run. I got a good head start, but I knew that they were going to realize I was gone. Sure enough, I started to hear the sirens sounding, and the dogs barking. I panicked! I knew that if I had the weed on me, the dogs would be able to trace my scent, so I dropped the weed and ran. I found a small trailer and I slid underneath it. I did the classic cling-to-the-bottom-of-the-trailer-so-they-can't-see-you-if-you-look-under-it.
But then, a pair of boots came up right beside my head and a deep, masculine voice said, "You can't get away that easy, boy." And a big hand reached under the trailer, grabbed me and pulled me out. He threw me on the ground. I looked up at him bravely and uttered "You'll never catch me." And I ran into the woods. And the last part of my dream was like the end of a Twilight film or something. I was darting through the woods at warp speed and there was a voice over. I can't remember exactly what it said but it was something like "So there I was, forced to live out my days as a fugitive running from the law. That's just the price you pay when you're" dramatic hit in the music (yes my dreams typically have orchestral soundtracks) ...and then I woke up.
I was not on a volcano. I was safe and sound in my comfy corner.
