There's something beautiful and slightly entertaining about living on your own; no one to laugh at you, no one to laugh with you. The latter encourages a very awkward desperation for company -- it's a hard pill to swallow if you're prone to embarrassment, but being laughed at eases the discomfort of stupidity, clumsy occurrences, and quirk.
I dare say no one knows the volume of genuine laughter until it is echoed through the halls of an empty house. So, in order to cope with the battle of unaccompanied comedy, let us laugh via blogspot.
Times of undeniable entertainment and sincere solitude:
Being the first and only somebody to witness my first moments of consciousness after 6 hours of sleep -- be it in the morning or after one of my extravagant power naps; haggard vocals, HAGGARD appearance, delayed motor skills, prolonged state of confusion. Enough to make me giggle, enough to earn you one million views on a youtube post.
Or the morning after a slumber party in my living room, by myself, with every light in the house on. In attempt to ensure a more easily accessible escape route from the poltergeists, serial killers, daemons, and Asian curses that very well could have been lurking in my townhouse…I spent a number of sleepless nights on my couch, watching various Disney movies and Hey Arnold reruns. Come daylight, when I wasn’t scared of suffering a malicious, bloodcurdling, perverse encounter of pure evil, I was laughing. Laughing until I remembered the 16 hour day I had ahead of me, thus the “extravagant power naps.”
Substituting paper towels for toilet paper. You only make that mistake once.
Or the time, after an eventful “Stache-Bash,” I failed to acknowledge/dispose of the fake mustache I had occupied for the evening. In a mad dash (Stache-Bash-Dash) to a convenient store bathroom (shout out to my unreasonable, slightly impatient bladder), I take a second to sincerely glare back at the people scrutinizing me. Thought process: “It’s not THAT unusual to use the bathroom at midnight. You work at 7-11, surely this isn’t the first time you’ve…oh, my mustache. Great.”
Or the precious moments I spent reading the sympathetic hate note left on my windshield, “This is not a _ _ _ _ _ _ _ parking place, be a little more considerate.” What? No signature? I was shocked. FOR WHAT it’s worth, I only meant to park there for a second. Unfortunately I fell victim to one of those power naps, involuntarily. Sorry neighbor whom I have offended.
For whatever reason needing a plunger…and not having one. Charging a 2 dollar plunger to my Discover card, out of desperation.
Realizing my sweatpants were on backwards after a good 24 hours of use and plenty-o-interactions with my roommate and her boyfriend. Funny how there’s a tie in the front, and a tag in the back -- much too subtle of an indication.
Homemade yoga, a work in progress.
Homemade breakfast taquitos, a work in progress.
Homemade synthetic plasma, a work in progress.
Walking in on insect intercourse. There were mating flies in my laundry room. I felt embarrassed, perverted, and uncomfortably fascinated. I have since then noticed every single fly in our living quarters -- like a proud Aunt, or Godmother.
Or the time, oh wait, the three different times I invested in canned foods -- considering my purchases to be both economical and nutritious -- only to remember our kitchen is, and always has been lacking a can opener. I'd eat really great, if I had a swiss army knife.
Or last night when I dramatically fell up the stairs...twice.
Or this morning when I made oatmeal to the sweet sounds of my personal rendition of Def Leppard's 'Love Bites.'
I testify of a whole new understanding of "lol"-ing. Laughing out loud really does happen, a lost art of sorts but it can happen. It's happened to me, and it can happen to you.