I have recently encountered a string of fellas who don't think that I am funny. They don't even break a smile for me much less volley a return to what I lob at them. Lovely guys, but clearly we don't share or even overlap in our sense of humor. The effect created in their company is that of the "Fun Sponge" a term coined by SD and several of his friends in grad school. The Fun Sponge is the humorless person who sucks all of the fun out of a situation.
I used to mock guys who said that they were looking for a girl with a good sense of humor. "You mean, she laughs at your jokes," I would say. Because that seems to be what most guys mean when they say she has a good sense of humor.
But of late, I am thinking that having someone really laugh at your jokes would be great. As opposed to having them say, "That's funny," or kind of barely smirking.
Sharing a sense of humor, sharing laughter is a great thing. At least as good as hooking up, sharing a great meal or kisses under the covers. And you can keep your clothes on while doing it, if you want to....
Laughter is a dimension of compatibility that I have not given much consideration up until now. But if I think about dating as a search for a life companion, I should consider it more. After all, who wants to spend the rest of their life with a Fun Sponge.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
note to self and others
When you mean to say "A Clockwork Orange" which you have not seen, which Stanley Kubrick directed, you should not say "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" which was directed by Milos Forman and starred Jack Nicholson who was also in the Stanley Kubrick movie "The Shining."
It may be that I have lost two too many neurons...
It may be that I have lost two too many neurons...
Monday, December 29, 2008
Cheap Thrills
Today, I have the worst craving for sweets. I could dive into a vat of cotton candy, eat my way to the bottom, and then eat my way back up. If that doesn't sound disgusting, you must be under the age of 9 in which case, you probably shouldn't be reading this blog.
Today, I have been stuck on the song "Build Me Up Buttercup" by the Foundations. I have listened to it at least seven times in a row. It's making me feel giddy and giggly, like my heart could burst into a shower of colored confetti.
If my life were a movie I would bounce out of work and run smack into someone very cute, who gives me a big old smooch and the two of us would walk away from the camera holding hands and talking as the music swells and the camera rises up and out into a view of the city at night.
If I were still in an a cappella singing group, I would give my left ventricle to sing the baseline.
In real life, I am dancing in my chair at the office and making a list of things to do for the rest of the week.
Hey hey hey! Hey Hey Hey!
Today, I have been stuck on the song "Build Me Up Buttercup" by the Foundations. I have listened to it at least seven times in a row. It's making me feel giddy and giggly, like my heart could burst into a shower of colored confetti.
If my life were a movie I would bounce out of work and run smack into someone very cute, who gives me a big old smooch and the two of us would walk away from the camera holding hands and talking as the music swells and the camera rises up and out into a view of the city at night.
If I were still in an a cappella singing group, I would give my left ventricle to sing the baseline.
In real life, I am dancing in my chair at the office and making a list of things to do for the rest of the week.
Hey hey hey! Hey Hey Hey!
Friday, December 26, 2008
The way you hold your knife
Reapply your lipstick, adjust the stockings, and let us raise our glasses in a toast to dangerous women.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Well, maybe a creature was stirring
My landlady and my downstairs neighbors have been hearing this scrabbling noise in the walls. Being understandably creeped out by this, they called in pest control.
And so, a gentleman bearing the implements of rodent control came up into my apartment. The only man to see the place since the LYM decided that he needed to be away from me. In fact, the disasterous and mortifying state of my place has been my excuse to not bring any men home of late. And while I was mortified, Mr. Pest Control assured me that in his work, he has seen it all.
He walked around with a flashlight looking for holes, for signs, for droppings. And when he looked in my closet, jackpot.
When I first moved to Brooklyn, my parents had driven out bearing gifts of ramen, canned goods and two bags of rice. One regular white rice, which I kept out in the kitchen area. The other a bag of sweet Thai rice, which I kept in the closet undisturbed and forgotten. I basically opened an all you can eat sweet rice buffet in my closet and the mice came to partake. How could they not.
Despite this smoking gun, Mr. PC went through the rest of the rooms in an effort to identify all means of entry.
He walked into another room and saw a sign that I had taped up from last year that said: "Yoga twice a week."
"Does that help?" he asked.
"It's great," I replied, "although I haven't been to yoga in a very long time."
He asked if going to yoga would be my New Year's resolution for next year. I replied that my resolution for next year is: To love my life.
He grinned and said that that was his resolution for 2008. I asked him how that went and he said that he was going to make it his resolution for 2009 as well, along with being less picky.
Which also sounds like a good resolution to make.
And so, a gentleman bearing the implements of rodent control came up into my apartment. The only man to see the place since the LYM decided that he needed to be away from me. In fact, the disasterous and mortifying state of my place has been my excuse to not bring any men home of late. And while I was mortified, Mr. Pest Control assured me that in his work, he has seen it all.
He walked around with a flashlight looking for holes, for signs, for droppings. And when he looked in my closet, jackpot.
When I first moved to Brooklyn, my parents had driven out bearing gifts of ramen, canned goods and two bags of rice. One regular white rice, which I kept out in the kitchen area. The other a bag of sweet Thai rice, which I kept in the closet undisturbed and forgotten. I basically opened an all you can eat sweet rice buffet in my closet and the mice came to partake. How could they not.
Despite this smoking gun, Mr. PC went through the rest of the rooms in an effort to identify all means of entry.
He walked into another room and saw a sign that I had taped up from last year that said: "Yoga twice a week."
"Does that help?" he asked.
"It's great," I replied, "although I haven't been to yoga in a very long time."
He asked if going to yoga would be my New Year's resolution for next year. I replied that my resolution for next year is: To love my life.
He grinned and said that that was his resolution for 2008. I asked him how that went and he said that he was going to make it his resolution for 2009 as well, along with being less picky.
Which also sounds like a good resolution to make.
All is calm, all is bright
It's snowing. Big fat fluffy flakes that drift softly, so softly. A soft touch to your hair, face, shoulder, the tree, the ground.
And the quiet that settles, surrounds and embraces.
Almost as good as a Vodka Gimlet as a recipe for happiness.
And the quiet that settles, surrounds and embraces.
Almost as good as a Vodka Gimlet as a recipe for happiness.
Monday, December 15, 2008
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas
Despite my timid, introverted, shy, repressed, bashful, uptight personality, I do on occasion make an ass of myself in public.
On some days it doesn't even take alcohol to do this.
This leads the people who witness it to state the obvious to me. "I saw you out there on the dance floor all by yourself during that Beyonce song."
"Ah. Well yes. You did indeed."
They are just lucky that I didn't drop my pants first. I couldn't, I was wearing a dress.
------------------
More things are filtering through my memory and the memories of others about Friday.
Apparently, someone got sent home in a cab after having a scene with her ex. She woke up in her own bed four hours later and called me, confused, disoriented and with no memory of how she got there.
Apparently, someone woke up the next morning at home with a black eye and no memory of how it happened.
Apparently, I was smacking people on the ass on accident all night. I don't recall this but I was scrolling through my text messages and this was apparently my update to CK about how the party was going.
On some days it doesn't even take alcohol to do this.
This leads the people who witness it to state the obvious to me. "I saw you out there on the dance floor all by yourself during that Beyonce song."
"Ah. Well yes. You did indeed."
They are just lucky that I didn't drop my pants first. I couldn't, I was wearing a dress.
------------------
More things are filtering through my memory and the memories of others about Friday.
Apparently, someone got sent home in a cab after having a scene with her ex. She woke up in her own bed four hours later and called me, confused, disoriented and with no memory of how she got there.
Apparently, someone woke up the next morning at home with a black eye and no memory of how it happened.
Apparently, I was smacking people on the ass on accident all night. I don't recall this but I was scrolling through my text messages and this was apparently my update to CK about how the party was going.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Deja vu but not
While in Champaign Urbana, a fella invited me to drive up to Chicago with him for a party. I asked if I needed to dress up and described two dresses that I owned. His reply was, "Pick whichever one has the shorter skirt."
I foolishly did and ended up being his date for a co-ed bridal shower in an inappropriately short skirt. I draped my cardigan over my lap for the better part of the night.
Today, I emailed CK to ask about what to wear. "My chubby valentine" or "Do the cha-cha in a haltertop." CK replied "Halter top. The more skin the better."
The situation may call for a cardigan. It may, in fact, call for two cardigans.
Has skin become the new black? It's getting a mighty chilly for that kind of thing. Madness.
I foolishly did and ended up being his date for a co-ed bridal shower in an inappropriately short skirt. I draped my cardigan over my lap for the better part of the night.
Today, I emailed CK to ask about what to wear. "My chubby valentine" or "Do the cha-cha in a haltertop." CK replied "Halter top. The more skin the better."
The situation may call for a cardigan. It may, in fact, call for two cardigans.
Has skin become the new black? It's getting a mighty chilly for that kind of thing. Madness.
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