Humans are creatures of habit. Most people have routines they follow or schedules they adhere to. When something goes awry in that pattern, a small piece of us panics.
For instance, you go to class, and you sit in the same seat every day. Then one day, something's different. There is something foreign in your territory. Someone is sitting in your seat. Oh, no. You will not have this.
But really, there is nothing you can do. Your spot is no longer yours. The early bird caught your worm, so to speak. There is an imbalance in your universe, and you're forced to accept it.
You don't want to be the person who says "Uh, excuse me, *garble garble*, you're in my seat." You can just imagine the face you'd be given. The battle was over before it begun.
UNTIL, the invader leaves! He is gone! It turns out he was only printing something before class. I got my seat back.
Everyone knows that person who is just bad at making jokes. If you can't think of one, I'm sorry. It's you.
This person makes their remark and then waits. They look around with a smirk, eyebrows either raised or at half mast.
You have mere seconds to react. What do you do? Option 1: Indulge them. Squeeze out a laugh like it's you're duty. People do this with children who have yet to grasp humor. And they chuckle like they didn't just hear the kid tell the same knock-knock joke four times.
But I warn you: if you open door number 1, it will never be closed. You are now the target audience, to be held captive if necessary. You may also be subject to elbowing or winking from that point on.
Your laughter is a stamp of approval. Use it wisely.
Depending on your mood that day, or your relationship with the joker, you might not be too eager to encourage their behavior. I know I've felt like giving the Squidward look to someone before.
Be careful not to crush their spirits. You never know, they might make you laugh for real one day.
Being tired is the worst. I realize that there are far more awful things than lack of sleep, but go with it, for the sake of this post.
I think we've all felt that horror in class when you realize you have no idea how long your eyes have been closed and you jerk back into consciousness.
The struggle to keep your head up and your eyes open is difficult enough.
Eventually, some of us succumb to the weight of our eyelids. The room is warm. Your professor's voice is deep and soporific. And then I don't know what happens, really. I've never fallen asleep in class. But then you're the guy I'm not sure whether to poke or not.
You might try napping before that class (philosophy) you can't stay awake in. But the nap will only make you more tired. Thanks a lot, brain. That was helpful.
When you get out of class, you take a longer nap, and it feels wonderful. A success. Until later that night when you realize it's the reason you can't fall asleep.
Reaction time: it's no one's strength. Unless you're a debater. Or a comedian. Or if you thought of your comeback a few days beforehand and practiced what the entire conversation would sound like in your head. But for most of us, the really good stuff, the wittiest or most profound comment you could have made comes to you hours, or worse, minutes later than you needed it. And then it's useless. There's no way to go back.
Today I found this Shakespeare Insult Kit on the interweb and decided that I'm going to make every combination of those words and keep them in my pockets. And in times of desperation, I could pull out a phrase like Colin and Ryan did on Whose Line Is It Anyway. The result would be scathing. For instance, who could possibly come back from something like "Thou smell of mountain goat, thou frothy fat-kidneyed foot licker!" Not many. I, for one, am very sensitive about my kidneys.
This all reminded me of one of my favorite moments from Gilmore Girls. Logan Huntzberger had thoroughly embarrassed Rory during one of her classes, and when she saw him next, she really let him have it. The best part, of course, was that her string of insults ended with "buttfaced miscreant."
I loved those words so much, I wrote a song about them. I kid you not. But I refuse to show any evidence, thou spleeny lily-livered bladder!!
Alright. I have a confession to make. I'm a crier. It's not really a secret, I suppose, because if you've ever watched anything with me, you'd know.
The other day, I tortured myself by watching the 3rd season finale of LOST with friends. It's heart-wrenching. One of my favorite characters (I WON'T TELL YOU WHO) dies a heroic death, but first he writes a list of his favorite memories. I would gush about it more, but that would totally give it away (if the picture below doesn't).
I loved this character. I was invested. And I started weeping three episodes before his demise. My friend next to me wasn't quite sure how to react. My short "don't look at me!" probably didn't help.
Sorry about that.
While Charlie dying--CRAP I said it--was hard, the film 50/50 was agony. The movie itself was phenomenal, but I was shaking with tears. I knew it would happen, too. Did I bring tissues? NO. And it was the face-distorting, lip-quivering kind of cry that you can't suppress; the kind where noise seeps out of you when you exhale and you have absolutely no control. Then my boyfriend held my hand to console me. Valiant effort, but sweet gestures only worsen the condition. I'm sure I looked lovely when we left the theater.
Luckily, I watched UP in the privacy of my own home. Goodness, Carl, you broke my heart.
When I forget a word, I'm usually able to say "it starts with a [letter]" and be somewhat accurate (the letter is at least in the word). There are other times I forget completely, and try to back-track to figure out what my thought was, but by then it's lost and gone forever. These moments are frustrating, but I don't hold a grudge against my brain or anything. It tries its best.
During Wednesday's presidential debate, Texas Governor Rick Perry's brain just gave up. While attempting to list government agencies he'd get rid of if he became president, Perry couldn't remember the third. One of the moderators tried to move on, but John Harwood wasn't going to let this one slide. Take a peek if you can stomach the discomfort and sweaty palms.
Alright, shake it off. I know that was hard to watch. I've watched it so many times. Now, I'm not a fan of Perry, but the human part of me was hoping a cane would come from off screen and pull him off stage by the neck.
It would have been a relief. It's bad enough when you just can't remember. But forgetting when the world is watching is just awful. Is there anyone out there who didn't cringe?
Jon Stewart really went at it on the Daily Show this week. It's really something you have to watch for yourself. Stewart won't let him forget it.
"This debate will be forever remembered for one thing and one thing only, and Rick Perry can't remember what it is," Stephen Colbert said on his show that same night. "I was worried there until he stuck the landing with 'sorry, oops.'"
There is another debate tonight (Nov. 12). Let's hope someone has that cane ready.
I'm doing a presentation tomorrow for a class and I realize I'm never sure what to do with my hands. When I know I'm not being graded, I don't really think about how my hands move when I talk. But it's too late; I'm conscious of my appendages now, and must decide how to carry them.
I'm right handed, so that guy's usually cool and cooperative. The left, however, doesn't have much to do.
If my hands aren't at my sides, sometimes they mysteriously creep upward into this position:
Sometimes people say things without thinking; a quick response they usually regret when they realize what just came out of their mouths. You might accidentally offend someone or create an uncomfortable double entendre that makes you want to bury your head in sand (which apparently ostriches do not). Sometimes these slip-ups are funny. Other times, they're just cringeworthy. A few days ago, this happened:
I was in class and a girl who always talks through lectures was doing what she does best. She and her friends sit a few feet away from me, so it's hard not to hear every word they say. I've tried. So Mouthy McLoudmouth (I'm not good with names) was whining about our government's 15 trillion dollars in debt (if I'm reading the National Debt Clock correctly). "Why isn't anyone else freaking out about this?" she said, flustered. Her friends mocked her reaction to old news, and she became immediately offended. "Shut up guys! You're making me feel stupid! I knew about the debt! I'm not retarded!!!"
One seat down, one to the right, sat the boy with Down Syndrome who comes to class with his sister. McLoudmouth was unfazed. I was ashamed for her. I couldn't believe how insensitive she was. What's worse? She said it again a few minutes later, looked right at him, and smirked. The airy "whaaaat?" when her friends scoffed in embarrassment made me furious.
Ok, sometimes people don't think before they speak. That's bad enough. It's worse when there's intent and it's malicious. Mouthy McLoudmouth needs to learn not to speak. At all. Especially at the expense of others.
Hey there! Welcome to my blog. I've never done this before. Blogging, that is. My idea is to write about weird, funny and uncomfortable human interactions I witness during the day. This blog is dedicated to the little mistakes we all make. Like saying "good" in response to "what's up?" Or going in for an unreciprocated high-five like Gob Bluth in Arrested Development.
It's called The Mumblr because sometimes I attempt to say "hello" to someone or "thank you" and no sound really comes out. I'm sure my mouth is open, but nothing really happens. You know what I mean.
Feel free to comment and tell me (and the interweb) your Mumblr moments! I'm looking forward to it.
