My life changed last weekend! I attended a Stand-Up Comedy Seminar and my 12 classmates were privileged to behold my premier stand-up comedy performance.
The seminar was taught by comedian Joe Matarese. When he called my name, I jumped up and pranced to the center of the stage. I looked up at the microphone, looming in the stand a foot above my head.
After a moment’s consideration, I grabbed the mic and squinted through the spotlight to see the hazy outlines of my classmates.
“Hello. This is my first time on stage.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
I had nothing. So I started rambling.
I explained my desire to perform comedy because I hate my job.
I shared my enthusiasm for attending BrickCon and my appreciation for all things LEGO.
I painfully recalled how my dreams of fighting professionally were crushed the day I was beat up by a competitive boxer.
Overly specific details flew out of my mouth and were broadcast throughout the club at alarming speed. As it turns out, I reveal embarrassing information about myself whenever I am on a stage with a microphone in my hand and a spotlight in my face.
It was the smoothest set of my career. Coincidentally, it was the awkwardest, shortest, longest, suspect, winningest, most boring, roughest, intriguing, hostile, best, worst, funniest set as well.
Perhaps in addition to my notebook, I should carry a microphone and flashlight around with me at all times. I would probably earn a friend or two with my newly discovered ability to entertain on demand. Then I could write jokes about the experience.
I may have perceived those five minutes on stage differently than anyone else in the room did. Regardless, the experience taught me that the stage is not a scary place. The mic, the cord, the lights; they are all harmless. The audience is more terrifying than the stage could ever be.
In my desperate efforts to put together a stand-up comedy routine, I have been carrying around a notebook to record every funny idea that I have. I write down everything that even remotely strikes me as amusing. At bedtime, my notebook and pen lie within arm’s reach. This is a brilliant strategy because I am most creative late at night, in between dreams.
One evening, I wrote:
“Unexpected diarrhea is the best diarrhea.“
“But that’s the worst, when you look like your act.“
I remember writing those comments down. I remember laughing about them. I don’t recall why. If only I’d had the presence of mind to clarify the joke. It’s been a week since I wrote them and I’m still perplexed. Trying to piece together the context of these statements is fun. Over time, I’ll hone my skills to figure out what they mean. If I ever have to solve a crime committed by my evil alter ego, I’ll be ready.
My last note of the night was:
“I’m still more sober than some of you have been in years.”
This tells me one thing. I am an unnecessarily mean person late at night. First of all, who am I berating here? I must have dreamt that I was an AA group leader and I showed up drunk to the meeting. This is the only scenario that makes sense to me.
If this is the case, then why did I only write that one line? I’m still more sober than some of you have been in years. Brutal. Once I start performing at open mics, I’ll have to convince the bookers to put me on stage early. After a certain time of night, I become inexplicably hateful.
Whenever I set a goal for myself, I become obsessed. I eat, sleep, & drink it. It’s all or nothing for me.
In college when I was prepping myself to tour with the Bellydance Superstars, I spent so much time practicing my hip undulations that I failed Arabic 101. The irony was that I tried to learn the Arabic language in order to understand the lyrics of the music that I shimmied to. It didn’t work out.
When I aspired to be a boxer, I spent three hours a day at the gym. I would have gone home after the first two hours, but my trainers thought I was fat so they made me run on the treadmill. I am overweight but my husband says that I have a nice shape.
Now that I want to be a comedian, I spend every available second of my day reading about how to become a comedian. Everything I read tells me to write. A lot. Write down anything and everything. Words that I find funny. Things that are unusual. Events that are so incredibly mundane that the simple act of writing them down could be considered a joke (like my job maybe?).
This is the reason that I imposed the small goal of writing a mindless ramble every day. Considering the amount of thoughts that I have on a daily basis, it surprises me how difficult this task is. It’s 8:30 PM and I stare down at a blank sheet of paper. My iPad, rather. In a way, I am experiencing writer’s block.
It’s not that I don’t have anything to write about. Oh, there’s plenty, perhaps too much. So much. I’m overwhelmed. Everything hangs on the line with this post. All of my hopes and dreams could be realized, or crushed, in 333 words. Where do I begin? So many ideas… I don’t know what to write about first, so I’ll just keep reading. Just so that I’m doing something.
I am seriously considering killing my Facebook profile. I wrote an awesome post about why Facebook sucks last week. In addition to those reasons, every time I log in to Facebook I get depressed.
I can’t stop seeking unreciprocated revalidation from my so-called “friends.” Whenever I create a hilarious post on RAEZYN, I post the link to my Facebook page, expecting to receive ‘Likes’ and “ha ha, this is funny!” commentary. Consistently, days go by and at best I’ll receive one or two ‘Likes’ and maybe one comment.
I have over 300 Facebook friends. Are you telling me that two people out of 300 actually liked what I wrote?
While conducting research for my “Top Ten Reasons…” post I found several articles that describe the negative effect that Facebook has on your health & self-esteem. My Facebook friends are ridiculously self-centered and it bothers me. With all of the attention floating around on Facebook, there isn’t any available for me.
This was the last straw:
On Friday afternoon, I posted this status update, along with a link to the Kindle Author website:
Kindle Author : Reading :: Funny or Crazy? : Laughing
Get it??? Anyone? Anyone? …Bueller?
I found this post awesome for the following reasons:
Now here it is Sunday, two days later, and no one has liked or commented on it. 300 friends, 0 friends amused.
Why do I even bother?
I was initially inspired to write “Top Ten Reasons…” to passive-aggressively tell my Facebook friends that they were annoying and should stop sucking at life. Then I realized that since everyone has blocked me from their newsfeed, they probably wouldn’t get the message anyway.
So the best solution is probably just to abandon Facebook altogether.
Here is why today should be your last day on Facebook.
10. Culinary Artwork
“Just finished cooking and it looks delicious!”
Is this an invite to partake?
…Then why am I looking at it?!?
I cannot tolerate being forced to view my Facebook friends’ photos of home cooked food. Some days, browsing on Facebook is like being stuck at an awkward potluck lunch. On other days, I feel like I’m standing outside the club & I can’t get past the velvet rope. I don’t understand why would-be chefs insist on filling up my news feed with documentation of their dinner.
9. Photos of Fido
Only slightly less annoying are the ongoing photo streams of dogs. Yes, I understand that for some people, pets are replacements for children. No, I do not want to see them.
They say that no parent thinks that their own baby is ugly. This applies to pets as well.
8. Intense Emotion
Everyone has at least one over-the-top friend who posts on Facebook in lieu of attending a much-needed session with their therapist. Is it just me, or is it unsettling to constantly read status updates that declare:
“If this puppy yips at me again, I’m going to punt the damn chihuahua over the fence!!!”
“Unbelievable!!! I loathe bad customer service!”
And what about the people who “like” these statuses? What message are they trying to communicate?
“Yeah, it’d probably be a good idea if you just go ahead and kill yourself. And the dog.
Hint: Click through to your unstable friend’s profile and click that big ol’ Unfriend button.
7. Confrontational Political Posts
You shouldn’t discuss politics with friends. Or Facebook. Yet, we are constantly victimized by:
*Exaggerated Eye Roll* I love clicking through these posts to read the articles. Right before I report them as spam.
In recent months, Facebook users have become so deluded that any picture with words on it is automatically funny. The bar for comedy has dropped so low, it’s embarrassing.
Creepy little girl + burning building = funny?
I’m confused, and a little horrified.
5. Recycled Wisdom
The Facebook world has become so comatose that lazy people no longer type out quotes. These days, they post photographs of quotes that someone else created.
4. Pictures of Baby
Your New Mom friend won’t stop posting pictures of Baby.
Baby’s first bath. Baby’s first tooth. Baby sleeping. Look at how cute, how adorable, so sweet. Mommy’s precious dearest little baby. What an angel. Daddy and Baby. Neighbor and Baby. The mailman and Baby. And worst of all, Baby in the Womb.
Disastrously, Facebook has replaced the family photo album.
Save your friendship by installing Unbaby.me, which will remove babies from your newsfeed and replace them with stuff you actually want to see.
3. Everyone can see All of Your Pictures
If someone tags themselves in your photo, then all of *their* Facebook friends can see it.
Consider this: You upload a picture to Facebook. Your coworker friend tags herself in the picture. Facebook posts the picture on your friend’s profile. Your coworker friend happens to be Facebook friends with your boss. Now your boss is looking at a photo of you passed out in a stairwell from the night before you called in “sick” to work.
Protect Yourself. Turn on “Tag Review” under Timeline and Tagging in your Privacy Settings, so that you will at least be aware when your posts are being shared.
Most people agree: Facebook’s “force everyone to convert to Timeline in phases” campaign is not a good thing. Every day, millions of beloved Facebook profiles become casualties as they are hijacked by Timeline. Is there anyone out there who *does not* believe that this is the worst “improvement” yet?
Somebody please figure out how to undo Timeline.
1. It’s Impossible to Delete your Facebook Profile
Leaving Facebook is like quitting smoking. It is a tricky process that is not for the faint of heart. You must beat Facebook at its own game.
If you merely “deactivate” your Facebook account, you will still show up on your friends’ Friends Lists. In the event that you “reactivate” your account, your profile, friends, pictures, status updates, and everything else that you tried to forget will magically reappear. Just like nothing happened.
How to Escape: You can permanently delete your account here. Read the scary warning message and click “Delete My Account.” Do not log in for 14 days. Ignore that sexy button that taunts you on every webpage across the Internet. For 14 days, do not succumb to even one moment of weakness.
If you succeed, you will be ~free~. Good luck and Godspeed.
It began like any other Tuesday, but ended as the most devastating day of the week.
I was at work, finishing off the last spoonful of oatmeal from my trusty coffee mug. This was no ordinary coffee mug. My employer had graciously bestowed it upon me as a gift during my first week on the job. Since then, it has served me well as a reliable vessel for hot water, tea, soup, and the occasional serving of breakfast cereal.
I was walking back from the kitchen, freshly washed mug in hand. At my desk, I shook the mug to remove the lingering droplets of water, thoughts distracted by my next task. Suddenly, the mug slipped from my hand. My mouth silently formed a horrified “NO” as I watched my friend fall. A loud “DAMMIT!” erupted through the office as white ceramic scattered across the floor. I cried.
I had lost everything in a moment of carelessness. I paused and glanced around at my office mates, ready to apologize for my momentary indiscretion. No one looked up to witness the commotion. Phone conversations continued uninterrupted. I heard the casual typing of a nearby keyboard. Nobody cared.
I must be invisible. Invisible and mute. Feeling a huge wave of heartbreak and no one available to comfort me. People working all around me but I am alone in my grief.
I somberly knelt to scoop up the fragments of my fallen comrade. ‘Why me?’ I thought, ‘Why us?’ Our time together was abruptly cut short months after it began.
I slowly dropped the ceramic into the trashcan as I said my last goodbye.