I'm even worse to have spoken conversation with when the Batty Bug has hit. Tonight I managed to segue from a debate on which surname screams Molester the loudest to pointing out that NHL prospect Alexei Cherapanov had just passed away. My friend, also a huge hockey fan, was saddened to learn of the passing. She was a bit alarmed at the ease with which I jumped from one topic to the next, without warning. There may be some basic communications skills which I lack. It's possible the same thing which fuels my wit has resulted in an inability to properly segue between sensitive topics. Whatever.
On Sunday I took a trip to the United Nations Cemetary with some friends. This is something that I had intended on doing months upon months ago, but put off indefinitely after Kyle died. I just wasn't itching to connect with the dead, you know? Eight months later, I figured that I was in a place where I could disconnect that death from the thousands that lie in the cemetery. So, I went.
UN Forces MonumentSomething about taking photos in a graveyard felt wrong. I did it anyways.
United Nations Memorial Cemetery in Korea
Inappropriate laughing fit in the Memorial Service Hall aside, I managed to conduct myself accordingly for the duration of the visit. Unfortunately, people tend to forget about the 2 hours during which you were totally awesome. They remember the 10 seconds during which you fell on your ass or the one time that you fell just short of hilarity. Trying to remind anybody about the other 2 hours is practice in futility. Especially when you're me, and you lace said reminders with anecdotes about all of those other inappropriate times where you deemed it fit to toss out a giggle.
When I was ten, my friend's father accidentally ran over a cat. My friend, her sister, and her sister's friend all immediately started wailing. They just couldn't believe that we had been a part of the death of Random Cat. They couldn't bear how horrible her father felt as he moved the cat off the road. And there I was, sitting in the middle of all of this: trying not to laugh. It wasn't funny. It was just heavy. And awkward. And thoroughly uncomfortable. I stifled my giggles.
My friend occasionally references that story as a loss-of-innocence anecdote from our childhoods. For me, it's probably the first time that I realized that the wiring in Barbie's Attic might be a little off.
United Nations Memorial Cemetery in KoreaInappropriate laughing fit in the Memorial Service Hall aside, I managed to conduct myself accordingly for the duration of the visit. Unfortunately, people tend to forget about the 2 hours during which you were totally awesome. They remember the 10 seconds during which you fell on your ass or the one time that you fell just short of hilarity. Trying to remind anybody about the other 2 hours is practice in futility. Especially when you're me, and you lace said reminders with anecdotes about all of those other inappropriate times where you deemed it fit to toss out a giggle.
When I was ten, my friend's father accidentally ran over a cat. My friend, her sister, and her sister's friend all immediately started wailing. They just couldn't believe that we had been a part of the death of Random Cat. They couldn't bear how horrible her father felt as he moved the cat off the road. And there I was, sitting in the middle of all of this: trying not to laugh. It wasn't funny. It was just heavy. And awkward. And thoroughly uncomfortable. I stifled my giggles.
My friend occasionally references that story as a loss-of-innocence anecdote from our childhoods. For me, it's probably the first time that I realized that the wiring in Barbie's Attic might be a little off.
As for the surname which screams Molester the loudest? Glen. Or maybe Lester. I'd apologize to anybody reading this named Glen or Lester - after all, you didn't ask for a skeevy name; your parents simply lacked taste. It happens - but apologies of the "I'm sorry for acting like such a dick. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm going to continue acting like a dick" persuasion are a waste of perfectly good words.
That's a rant for another day. Probably not tomorrow.
That's a rant for another day. Probably not tomorrow.
1 comment:
Fear not. I laugh when bad things happen. Like when I drove my mom's (one year old) car into a ditch and I called to tell her about I was laughing my ass off the entire time. Or when my friend and I accidently broke the library's TV (it wasn't fastened to the trolly correctly and when we moved it the weight shifted and it fell off) and when we had to tell the teacher (who was a meanie) I couldn't stop laughing. He kept telling me to stop and that made me laugh harder. So know that you're not the only one ;)
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