February 01, 2006

Embittered, Used Up, and Broken

I don't have time to write this like I want to, but I'll give it a shot anyway:

When I complain about something, I generally try to do it in a way that transforms any actual anger I have about it into L-A-U-G-H-S.

I'm not saying I succeed very often. But my intent is to turn misery into funny.

If you think about it, it's not actually very funny if you start bleeding all over yourself in the middle of a crowded public place. But it's pretty funny if it happens to someone else, or so all the girls in high school who hissed, "NURSE!" at the poor unfortunates who suffered this indignity seemed to think.

Almost anything awful is kind of funny, provided it only happens to someone else. I figure, why shouldn't I be my own someone else? I'm not an extrovert, you know. I don't have a band of people to pal around with. There's me, there's my boyfriend, there's my family, there's the marvelous people I email, and . . . uh . . . mmm . . . well, I've exchanged pleasantries with one of the girls in my Spanish class once or twice, and . . . well, that's it.

I ENJOY mocking myself. I'm a rich repository of malicious, mean-spirited humor for myself. And no, I don't take it seriously. I don't really think I'm as dumb as I sometimes make myself out to be. I don't really think I'm as clumsy, or as fat, or as neurotic--if you want to know the truth, I think I'm pretty all right. If anything, I tend towards the vain and the proud. Self-effacement is simply one way I try to head those sins off at the pass.

If it sometimes gives other people a laugh to read about it, that's just so much velvet.

Not everyone agrees with me about what's funny. That's fine. I usually don't agree with them about what's funny either. Insert cliche about horse-racing or the world going 'round here.

But you know what I don't do? I don't automatically assume that if, for example, you think Scrappleface is laugh-out-loud hilarious, you must be all kinds of messed up as a person. I assume, I think correctly, that you and I don't agree on what's funny in this particular instance.

I don't make assumptions like this:

I couldn't help but feel sorry for that poor embittered woman. Such a sad life she must have if she is consumed with such hatred.

--and I especially don't make them based on one post about TAMPONS. For pity's sake! Okay, I confess to having harbored perhaps a touch of hatred for whoever designed those crummy tampons, but you know what? It's out of my system now, because I turned it into something that cracked myself up.

See? I wasn't kidding about the vanity. I read, and re-read, my own posts, and I break myself up with them. That might be vain, but it's not embittered.

I have a pretty good life. Many days I'd even say I have an excellent life. The days I don't have such a great life, they work out in the end anyhow, because misery means one thing to me: Misery means MATERIAL.

I like providing material. I get a kick out of it. I'm tickled pink if you sometimes get a kick out of it too, but if you don't? Spare me your analysis, because it comes off as being just a little bit . . .

. . . bitter.

Posted by Ilyka at February 1, 2006 12:33 AM in navel gazing

Hey, I thought you were hilarious, which is why I linked ya! Reminded me oh-so-much of the Second Mrs. Pennington, who wasn't shy in the least about telling people, anyone, actually "I'm PMS-ing, so don't EVEN f**k with me. Got it?"

You cracked me up.

Posted by: Buck at February 1, 2006 01:44 AM

It is funny. I don't know how anyone could have interpreted that any other way. I am only somewhat embittered by reading yet another funny entry by someone who didn't even have time to write it the way she wanted.

Posted by: Rob at February 1, 2006 04:35 AM

I read, and re-read, my own posts, and I break myself up with them.

I'm exactly the same way. My shit cracks me up. Well, the older stuff does. Not a whole lot of serious LOL moments lately.

Self effacement IS funny. Professionals make fortunes off of it. Try to name a professional commedian who doesn't use personal experiences to poke fun at themselves.

Keep on keepin' on. Those of us who get it love it. The ones who don't - well, who really gives a damn about them anyway? ;-)

Posted by: Jim at February 1, 2006 06:21 AM

Some people lack a sense of humor. Fortunately, that is not your problem. I read that post, and laughed so hard milk came out my nose (and missed the keyboard).

I also resolved never to get you angry while standing within pistol range of you.

Posted by: The_Real_JeffS at February 1, 2006 07:57 AM
I couldn't help but feel sorry for that poor embittered woman. Such a sad life she must have if she is consumed with such hatred
Someone actually said that about the *tampon* post?

By the Great Ghod Ghu, does the phrase "get a life" mean anything to these people?

Posted by: Craig R. at February 2, 2006 12:49 AM

Well, you know I love you.

As for me, self deprecation started out as a hobby to voice all of the insults FIRST. Then it became a habit. Now, it's just who I am.

And a pox on anyone who doesn't think you're teh funniez.


Posted by: Margi at February 2, 2006 01:26 AM

Hey I think you're hilarious.

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?”
-Jane Austen

But I thought you might be interested in this story. (I tried to link the actual story, but it wouldn't let me. :-( )

Posted by: Shinobi at February 2, 2006 10:31 AM