Funny Face

I think one of the toughest things about trying to make it in the humorist blogosphere is the fact that there are days where you are just so…over it.

You lock yourself out of your house again (and it’s not so funny this time). You practice the “This is what is wrong with our air conditioner speech” that your husband prepared for you and the AC guy won’t even hear it (except instead of writing a funny list you want to write a dissertation about how girls can’t get no respect).

You stand by the elevator door for several minutes before you realize that you have yet to push the button.

A guy squeezes by and utters, “Excuse me” and you say, “You’re welcome.” Then all the way down the elevator you get to meditate on how stupid that sounded. You’re welcome? You’re welcome, sir—I usually don’t let people be excused. Or pass me. But you’re. welcome.

You seal up an envelope to mail and then later open it up thinking it was yours.

It’s just been one of those days.

I hope other bloggers can somewhat relate; you stare at the blinking cursor and think, “All of these things that are normally my material, they’re my thing. They’re my bread and butter. But today, right now, in this moment, they are really getting on my nerves.

It’s the equivalent I guess to a boxer deciding one day, “You know what? I am sick and tired of people punching me in the face.”

Here are some signs that you, like me, are getting kind of life-jaded:

- You can’t perfect everything so you start trying to perfect stupid things. I was getting so frustrated last night trying to write out a church softball line-up while Justin drove his jackhammer of a truck. After about my 6th frustrated sigh, he said, “You know this isn’t a competition right?” I looked up at him like a fifth-grader who got a B and said, “I take PRIDE in my handwriting.”

- You just throw things outside. Sitting there watching the Game Show Network (don’t judge me) and Fiona decides to throw up black stuff all over me and the blanket (later found out she got a hold of some steak scraps). I made Justin throw the blanket outside. I just couldn’t handle it. It was like a dramatic get-out-of-my-house moment minus the homeless spouse.

- You need a change of scenery. I was driving to work today and everything I passed received an inner, “I hate that stop sign.” “I hate that school.” “Here’s the light where NO ONE understands that you can turn right on red.” Maybe I’m setting myself up for a psych eval here, but there are days where I think if I see that Arby’s sign one more time, I might lose it and throw roast beef on everyone.

- You type out a post of some kind and then delete it. I’m kind of impulsive. Sort of like I am being right now. I will furiously type out a Facebook status. Post. There, world. That’s what I think about you. Then I will realize that I sound like a crazy person and I pray that none of my 1,524 “friends” happened to be online at 5:23 p.m.

- Sounds you hear every day suddenly become intolerable. Do ya really have to click those keys to type? And just try me, coin machine downstairs.

I am writing this in hopes that I am not the only one who has stared at a pile of laundry on the guest bed for a week now. That I’m not the only one who has succumbed to digging like a mole to find clean underwear. That I’m not the only one who needs therapy every Sunday night because it’s, well, Sunday night. Please find solace in the fact that sometimes things are SO not funny, that they’re pretty darn funny. So let’s take a minute and laugh at ourselves. One. Two. Three. Go.