Who's Laughing Now?

Some people are funnier than others. This is a fact. We all could name our funniest friend in an instant. That's because it's easy to tell who has the quickest wit or who can come up with the best jokes. Jokes are out loud, you hear them. The point of this little anecdote is I recently (right this moment) discovered that some people can be the funniest out of their friends but not be all that funny.

I'm talking about my roommate's new girlfriend. She's always laughing. She's a happy girl! But when she watches movies with us she does more than laugh- she talks.

And it's not really something to listen to. She'll repeat jokes or accents moments after they appear on screen because she thinks they're funny. She ALSO adds her own commentary.

Now I know people who are GOOD at adding their own commentary. The things they say about what's going on on screen are well thought out and hilarious. Plus, the comments are usually well timed and make sense in the context.

Oh but this girl, this happy girl! has not been blessed with comedic timing or wit. The jokes she makes are... weird. They really aren't good. But she makes lots and lots of them like she has some practice.

Which got me to thinking; has she had lots and lots of practice? And if she has, how has no one told her to shut the fuck up?

BECAUSE (Get ready, as the following reasons are correct and insightful.)

1. She's hot. The girl has big brown eyes, dark hair, and she's thin. She's just about perfect which in my current relationship-less state is HORRIBLE.
2. She's probably the funniest of HER friends.

She's not THAT bad, honestly. There are MANY funnier people in the world but there are also many less funny (Heba). It makes sense that her attractive friends wouldn't recognize that she's a second rate jokester.

But when you are probably the funniest person in the room (seriously, you can think “conceited” but I'm in two comedy groups. CLEARLY I'm funny.) and you aren't making your own stupid quips to “Pulp Fiction” but someone else, less funny than you, IS, it's... grating.

And this isn't because she's perfect. This is because I haven't seen this movie in a long time and would LOVE to view it without having to listen to some happy, beautiful girl blab her way through it with remarks that EVERYONE, no matter how funny, should NOT SAY OUT LOUD.

To My Dearest Matthew Richard Hudson,

The trouble with baiting a woman, with throwing something argument-worthy in front of her is you're bound to get a bite. We, as creatures, will rarely let injustice flaunt itself in front of us without remark.

We do not, however, remark upon these injustices because we like the art of argument or because of some compulsion that we cannot control; we remark because we see an error that should be fixed.

Which brings us to the matter at hand. You think by bringing up a subject that once caused an uproar, by figuratively lighting a match where a fire once raged you will reignite the issue.

You are sadly mistaken.

See, that fire burned with heat and fervor because it was genuine. I released my fury upon your ignorance because I knew that without correction you would continue to operate under such delusions, in this case that men are better at any and every task than women.

But this is insulting. For you to think that you could get a rise out of me so easily not only further highlights your idiocy, but proves your point incorrect.

See, a match is hardly going to light ash and soot, which is all that is left of that previous altercation.

Not to mention I am not so stupid as to take this bait when I can clearly see the hook.

See, I'm much more clever than that.

The moment you sputtered those words in an attempt to make me out as a quick tempered and outrageous, hysterical woman you exposed your pathetic plot and quite frankly made yourself out to be an imbecile.

But you cannot see your attempt as a failure because you are so blinded by your ignorance and arrogance.

If your pathetic, minuscule brain could perceive the truth you'd see that, contrary to your personal beliefs, I, the woman, made out the victor and you, tired and negligible man, the defeated.

First Runner Up

Every single time a girl “beats” me with a guy (i.e. she gets him instead of me) anyone who knows the story and finds her picture on facebook says, “You are so much prettier than she is.” They say this like it instantly heals the wound, like just because I'm prettier than some girl I can't be upset.

It's a consolation prize.

Regardless of who is actually more attractive the fact that I didn't get the guy puts me in second place, and with the red ribbon I get the “prettier” award.

Because in this world only ugly whores get boyfriends.

This is a common phenomenon, really. All the time I hear best friends, good friends, kind of friends, and obliging acquaintances saying “Oh my gosh, you are so much cuter than she is!” when they hear that the person they're talking to didn't quite win the heart of the boy in question.

This, as we all know, is a common occurrence with me. I'm USUALLY second best in the minds of a guy... mostly due to timing but sometimes just because I'm a weirdo and no sane boy would decide that I'm a prime candidate for a girlfriend. And with these common occurrences I hear my friends sincerely say, “You're prettier.” or “Your tits are WAY better.” like that will make me feel better.

IT DOESN'T.

I don't want to be prettier than someone else, I want the boy who's taking them to movies and snuggling with them on couches to be doing that with me. I can dazzle myself in the mirror until the cows come home but it's not going to squelch that awful lonely feeling I get when I'm lying in bed at night...

...Um, anyways, I have started to say, “Thanks for the consolation prize,” to the friends who offer this form of comfort whenever I'm passed over for another lady.

Until tonight.

See, tonight I was at a friend's house (Bromansion) and through a conversation a boy who DEFINITELY passed me over for another girl (This was because of timing; he had broken up with a girlfriend of three years six months before we met and AS we began to cultivate a relationship that could stray from friendship to lover-ship she re-entered the picture and wanted him back... He took her back because Love doesn't just disappear six months after an unexpected break-up.) Whatever, I've made my peace with the situation because we're still good friends.

THE POINT IS during a conversation this boy said the following in a tone that couldn't be dripping more with sarcasm;

“I DEFINITELY don't want to have sex with you!”

Which, for those of you who have no idea what sarcasm means translates to:

“I want to have sex with you.”

I am literally giddy about this. I told my roommates the second I got home. I want to shout it from the rooftops. The crippling loneliness has left my side for the evening because THIS BOY wants to sleep with me. He thinks I'm pretty.

Now yeah, technically, this is a consolation prize. Instead of DATING this boy, I'm just super sexually attractive to him... the definition of getting something small for competing.

Except, just because this comes from him and not from a bunch of girls in committed relationships, it's fine in my book. Which is bad. I shouldn't suddenly be okay because the guy I'm mostly infatuated with is attracted to me- if he's so attracted we should be GOING OUT, not sometimes meeting up for drinks and making eye contact OFTEN. (Seriously, we make an unusual amount of eye contact during parties.) But I'm accepting it. I'm letting one sarcastic comment raise my self esteem and make me feel better about being single.

(Also, I don't think I'd actually say, “Thanks for the consolation prize” to him. I'm not THAT sassy.)

So yes, I should raise my standards and stop letting boys affect my self esteem. I should stop letting where I place in the game of love govern my self image.

But let's be honest. I won't.

TWIST!

This isn't funny. I mean, it is, but it shouldn't be.

Nick and Emmalee.

My ex and my sister.

Together.

I'm... flabbergasted. And forever off the hook for that pub-crawl thing. Seriously, if I “stabbed him in the back” he just nuked me... in the front.

The strangest part is I'm not mad. I knew I was mad about the Kate and Jake thing. I knew while I was assuring her that I was okay and not at all upset that I was indeed upset. But this is... different. Probably because I really don't have feelings for him anymore. (I'm not just saying that. If you could look into my soul you'd see it's true.) That's not to say I'm not still angry he turned half of my study abroad group against me... Especially the boys. I loved the boys. (Chris has still been a wonderful friend and for that I am extremely thankful.) Beyond that, though- a situation that would make just about anyone upset- I'm not still hung up on him.

Nor am I really hung up on the fact that he's with my sister.

I'm surprised. I wonder if he remembers how often he called her a whore.

I wonder if he remembers that she's a world-class cheater. (The reason I was dead to him.)

I suppose it doesn't matter. Because I'm actually kind of glad they're together.

Yes, I'm aware that this is VERY strange. Normal people don't get slightly giddy over their exes hooking up with their sisters.

But normal people haven't been living under a cloud of guilt and blame for a year.

See, I'm not happy because I care about them and I want them to be happy. I'm happy because I'm off the hook. I am no longer the bad guy. For the rest of time I messed up but he went and did something even worse.

ALSO, I'm getting a little sick of him dropping bombs on me the last night of Spring Break. Last year he broke up with me... this year he made out with my sister. Simply precious.

Funny, eh?

So I've been invited to be a part of a sketch comedy group.  Wonderful, right?  Yes.  It is.  But you know me, I don't write on a blog about how ecstatic I am about life!  I write about the things that trouble me. 
And Oh Mommy, am I troubled.

Because I was invited, I didn't have to audition.  Which is an honor, that someone ASSUMES I'm funny enough, but it forces me to quite suddenly PROVE I'm funny enough.  Auditions are grueling and humiliating and hard, but you get validation right away if they take you- the case with Friendship Ocean.  But with Man Hole I'm thrown in a ring with a bunch of people, FUNNY PEOPLE, looking in at me yelling, "DO SOMETHING FUNNY!  MAKE US LAUGH!"  And I'm so scared I can't!

Okay, that's super over dramatic.  I'm worried I won't be able to come up with some good sketches, but I also trust myself somewhat and think I really could write some good ones.  In the end, I could always steal 'Hans and Greta' for a few hours... cut out some of the unecessary parts, and slap on a fresh coat of paint....

I just described writing a whole new sketch...

Anyways, I just felt like complaining more to cyberspace about my menial problems. 

An Undelivered Letter

To you.
Because I'm thinking of you.

I'm sorry if it's weird that it's been so long and I still think about you, but our relationship was... special.  And I'm sorry if you think it's stupid that I said that.
It's just, we kind of fell into being each other's lives.  At least, for me, quite suddenly you were day and night, and not being near you or knowing where you were or what you were doing was odd.
You cleared the snow off my car for me.
You made me breakfast in bed.
I loved the fireflies in the wallpaper, and the hipster's paradise.
And Gus and Maggie.  And Thos.

I loved you.

And it's a song, one song that reminds me that I was SO happy that I was weird in High School, and that Tyler didn't want to date me, and that Nolan only thought of me as a friend.
You made everything make sense.

Now don't you dare take this as me wanting to get back together.  I don't.  My life is on a different path now because we aren't together.
I like this path.
But I just want you to know, for whatever reason, that I think about us sometimes, and I miss it in a way.
I miss the certainty in laying awake talking to you or building a fort with you, or even in asking you if you want a break.
I miss us.

And, because I'm a lady, I'm going to say this:  it's not my fault things didn't work out.  You ended it.  I don't want the blame anymore.

Aren't we happier now anyways?

Your little yellow bird,
Me

To Do List

Whatever, no one needs to know this but no one knows I have this blog.

Except Sammi Jo, but she's sitting next to me.  Watching me write it.  So I guess she knows now.

The point is, there are things I NEED TO GET DONE.  Like:

Write a paper for Shakespearean Drama.
Get elusive W2's.
Write Spanish essay.
Read two acts of random play.
Sleep???

So yeah.  That's my list.  Mostly for me, but hey, maybe some lonely person out there is super interested in what I do with every second of my day.