Out-awkwarding the awkward? Funny.

Stop me if you've heard this one before...isn't it appropriate that the word "awkward" is so awkwardly spelled?

Awkward humor is nothing new, although I think that of late, it has become more popular.  "The Office", "Mr. D.", "Arrested Development"...these shows make good use of the awkward moment.

Kids at school say "That awkward moment when (fill in the blank)."
I think it quotes some internet thing.  Those kids, they're always on the internet.

(the following is an actual exchange from actual people at actual school)
"That awkward moment when you see your teacher at Comic Expo."
"You're the one who is awkward!!!  I was totally awesome!!!"
"Right.  Nice Ash costume."

...it WAS nice.  If you want evidence, simply review the older posts until you find the one featuring the greatest Ash costume of all time.

A lot of my friends are very awkward, some in more hilarious ways than others.  I have some friends who are of the uncomfortable awkward sort- it's not particularly funny the way that they are awkward, more it is horrifying and makes everyone squirm.  Perhaps our comedic evolution just isn't ready for their particular brand of awkward.

Mostly, though, my friends are the sort of awkward that makes others laugh, usually because they are being awkward on purpose to make others laugh.
I appreciate this very much because:
1. I love it when people try to make other people laugh, as long as it follows my rules of comedic follow-through (with the exception of the expense rule- if they are wealthy, go ahead and spend your dolla dolla bills on my entertainment).
2. It masks those of us with regular, dysfunctional awkward and makes it seem like we, too, are being funny.  I have to get a bit better at not doing shifty eyes and saying "Yesss....I was being...funnyyyy..." after an awkward moment that people think was actually an attempt at humor.

A friend told me a story today about making awkward jokes (and I concur- they were AWKWARD) to a colleague, who responded in a MUCH more awkward manner than anticipated.

We pondered- was this person being rude, snobby...or simply taking the awkward funny to a new level??

To out-awkward the awkward, one must master the following steps.

Heather's Guide to Upping the Awkward Ante

1. First, ensure that you are not going to completely embarrass some poor, uncomfortable person who is not intending to be funny.  You must have a precise target- the awkward jokester.

2. You MUST practice your poker face.  Delivering awkward lines demands a straight face.  This is what keeps 'em guessing.  "Is she joking?  Or is she really that weird???"

3. You must have excellent comedic timing.  Or not, now that I think about it.  A well-delivered, quick quip might at first seem like the most hilarious response to initial awkwardness.  But perhaps this is too clever.  Perhaps it is actually WAY more funny to deliver your response at increasingly inopportune moments.  Don't wait too long that you have to explain...but allowing for a moment for people's attention to wander, then BAM!  Awkward punch to the face!!!

 Note.  Do not punch people in the face.  That was a metaphor, or something.

4. Apply physical humor as much as possible.  Part of people being really damn funny has to do with their physical presence.  It could be that the person gestures a lot.  It could be that they gesture very little.  It really depends on the situation...but I think a good rule of thumb is that you should really follow your heart on this one.  Does your heart say "Stand perfectly still.  Don't...move...a...muscle.", or does it say "Point aggressively with your finger!  HARDER!!  POINT POINT POINT!!!". 

I like that one does not have to be "cool" to be funny.  In fact, it almost seems the opposite.

Moral of this story: I am accepting all dolla dolla bills for my entertainment fund.

Talk the talk? Funny.

Everyone assumes that they way that they talk is "normal"; that other people in other nations have "accents".  It's basically impossible to say that any one way of speaking is the "normal" or "original" way, but certainly we can all concede that not everyone pronounces words the same.

There are some accents that are more recognizable than others.
There are also some that are WAY funnier than others.
Funny accents include, but are not limited to:
1. Cockney British.  "Allo govna!  Blimey, me arse is sore!"
2. Backwoods American.  To be accompanied with banjo twangs.  "Y'all want me ta cook up some squirrel??"
3. Asian Grandma.  "You too skinny!  Eat!  Eeeeeaaaaatttt!  Why you spend money???"
4. Any accent Bob does ever.  They usually turn into a sort of Japanese-Mario hybrid.  If you haven't watched "I Love You Man", you really should.  It's really, really, really damn funny.  And if you have seen it, and you don't think it's funny, we probably should never meet, because you'll hate everything I say at all times.  In "I Love You Man" there is a scene where the main character is trying to do a Jamaican accent.  "Slappin' the bass!  Yeah man!".  It's hilarious.  His (the guy in the movie) accents always turn into weird Leprechaun.  Bob- Japanese Mario.  No matter what he was trying to do.

I feel like- and I am embarrassed to admit this- that I am the kind of person who goes to another country and immediately adopts the local way of speaking.  I think I even do this when speaking with someone with an accent.  There was an episode of "Fresh Prince" where the dad has British colleagues, and he keeps picking up their accent and saying doofus stuff like "Pip pip cheerio" and whatnot.  This episode was particularly hilarious because Geoffrey, their butler, was British, and spoke in a British accent...but Phillip managed to not pick up that accent....  Anyway, I hope that I don't do that, but I probably do.

I am also not very good at producing accents.  Even though I laugh at Bob's total inability to do an accurate accent, I suffer from the same problem.  Everything degenerates to Asian Grandma Mario.  Or something like that.

 

There are also ways of speaking from different eras.  I am enamored with the 1920's newsroom "accent". 
"Listen, Charlie, if ya don't get that dame on the up and up, I'm gonna ring your head like a Chinese gong, capiche?"
"Well it's two bits on the dollar for ya, see, and no funny business."

There already exists "International Talk Like A Pirate Day".  This is a funny concept to me, and generally easily executed for the average person.  Most people can do pirate, even if their pirates sound more like Mario than others.
I propose that we introduce more accented days.  Or, at least, people accent their voices to fit the theme of the day.
After all, we dress up...we eat themed food...we listen to themed music...let's go one step further and get right into character.

Moral of this story: I'm going to have to research some events that call for Japanese and Asian Grandma Marios.

Movin' Like Bernie? Funny.

When I was a kid, there were a few dances that caught on and people learned.  The Macarena, for one.  At junior high dances, for some reason, we all danced with this sort of stirring motion of our hands, while twisting our hips in the other direction.  I don't know why.  If you are a child of the 80s, you know what I'm talking about...and if you don't, think of Monica's bad dance on Friends.  It was like that.
The early to mid 90s were a time of the "choreographed dance" movie, too.  "She's All That" featured a high school graduation where, for some reason, all the kids had learned a dance and everyone did it at the same time.
That seemed sort of weird, but also strangely compelling.  I remember being on grad committee and a lot of the members were convinced that we were going to perform a great dance routine...we even had ballroom dance instructors come in and teach us a bunch of stuff that none of us ever did again.  It was super awkward, in a time when we were at our utmost level of awkwardness, but it was actually sort of fun, and I remember dancing with my friend Andrew and both of us thinking it was rad.
Anyway, that whole "let's all learn a dance and fuss over each other while we do it" thing still exists.  Now kids are learned such classics as "The Bernie" and "Cat Daddy".
I've taken it upon myself to learn both these 'dances'.
And so can you!

The Bernie

You know "Weekend At Bernie's"?  Where Bernie is dead, but they have to make it seem like he's alive, so they can keep on partying?

Well, there is now a 'dance' based on him.  It's not so much a dance as it is a way of moving around.  You should watch this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcuLSw5aS-8&noredirect=1

It's pretty funny.  The part where he goes through checkout is my favorite.

So, one of my kids comes in and is walking all weird, and I'm like "Limbo craze?" and they're like "No.  Watch this video."

So I did, and the next class, I moved like Bernie, and was a hit.  

A lot of people get really mad at kids.  They think they're annoying.  Especially when they are being loud and laughing about something.

If the laughter of children bothers you, and makes you enraged, you should really review your values.

I may spend a day moving like Bernie.  If I ever have to buy nerf guns, I really hope I remember.

The Cat Daddy

I was told by a group of students (who had witnessed my amazing Bernie) that I should learn the "Cat Daddy", to impress my husband.  Now, I know that Bob is already blown away by my superior dance moves, so he needs no more impressing.  However, I was intrigued.  What dance could possibly be so amazing that it would impress?  How could it possibly be better than the Bernie (which, if you don't already know, and you didn't bother watching the video, consists of leaning backwards, allowing your arms to go limp, and basically going about your daily business)?

Could there BE a more complex, intricate dance???

I grew up in the age of the MACARENA, people!  THE ACHY BREAKY HEART!  How could this "Cat Daddy" IMPRESS???

Well, I looked it up when I got home, and I was first met with these results:

 Which made me think that they were playing a trick on me.

As it turns out, the young lady in the picture and the videos is someone named Kate Upton, who partook in the "Cat Daddy" while shooting for Maxim or Sports Illustrated or some other soft core magazine, and that kinda sorta creepy older dude in the shot is the photographer.

So I looked for the original "Cat Daddyers", or whatever you would call them, since I figured- "If Kate UPTON is doing it, it MUST be awesome!!!".  I neglected to actually watch her video.

I found this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BZGgf4BtVY

If you again skip the video, which I understand- you have enough time to read my blather, but not enough to watch some random youtube junk, that's good, your priorities are right where I want them- I can sum up the Cat Daddy for you.

The Cat Daddy In A Nutshell

1. It has nothing to do with cats.

2. It has nothing to do with Daddies.

3. It is only slightly more complicated than the Bernie.

4. The stuff that passes for dancing these days is...just about as abysmal as in my day.

Basically, you gesture down and across in front of your body with your left arm.  Then with your right.  Then you do a "wheelchair" motion with both, twice.  Then you repeat, but alternate the arms.

All together now!

Left arm right arm wheelchair wheelchair

Right arm left arm wheelchair wheelchair

Etcetera.

In the video, the talented young gentlemen who are demonstrating this latest craze suggest some ways of improving your "Cat Daddy" and making it more interesting.  I was pretty sold on the basic moves, being so elaborate as they are, but I dig that you can freestyle the shit outta this dance.  Examples: bend your knees while wheelchairing!  You appear more physically disabled.  Twist while wheelchairing!  It's like you're turning your chair.  Throw some kicks in there!  People will be stunned that even though you APPEAR to be in a wheelchair, you are able to use your legs!!!  It's a dance miracle.

But enough about the learning process.  More importantly, I DID learn the Cat Daddy, and when asked if I had looked it up, I simply replied with a stunning five-second display of slam-dunk Cat Daddy that had the crowd on their feet.  Well, they were already standing, but basically, I rocked their worlds.

I brought it out again at the grad dance.  It was amazing.

The point I'm trying to make is that sometimes, it's very funny to learn some silly "skill" just to amuse others.  For me, it's been some very difficult coordinated dance moves.  For you, it could be to play the slide whistle, or to juggle squid, or to speak Latin.  Whatever it is, go out there and figure it out and impress your friends and family!!

Moral of this story: Who wants to go buy some nerf guns?

Playing with your food? Funny.

I love food.  I teach Foods class, which has challenged me to come up with recipes that teenagers will actually eat and can make in less than an hour.  I cook at home, and have a group of friends who get together every couple months to enjoy some kind of themed meal.  I am not terribly picky, although I do have a couple rules: Bob would describe one as “Don’t eat anything cute” (lamb, veal, other baby animals, game meats, beef); I would describe the other as “Don’t eat anything disgusting” (bugs.  Or garbage parts.).

I like eating at home but of course I also like eating at restaurants.  I am getting choosier about which meals I am willing to pay for, because of the incredible inflation of prices at restaurants and the decrease in quality of service in Calgary, but there are still places I like to go and when I travel, I eat at restaurants all the time.

Trent and I go out to eat a lot, and we are both fairly adventurous when it comes to food.  We’ve made up two games to play at restaurants.

ScaryFoody

(like scareoke, only less singing)

When you go to restaurants that serve “cultural cuisine”, sometimes you get menus that are printed with poor English, or no English, or only pictures.  To play this game, you have to go to a restaurant with no English menu available, and no pictures for the items on the menu.

If they try to give you a menu in English, insist that you are fine.  If you can do a bit of research ahead of time and figure out the phrase for “No thank you” in the local lingo, all the better.

Then, you choose at random.

At least three items, if you can afford it.

And then you eat!!!

This is best done at a place like a Chinese restaurant.  The Asians are notorious for serving the garbage parts of animals and trying to pass them off as “specialties”.  Chicken feet.  Tripe.  Eyeballs.  Fermented anything.  Gross.  So, if you get to a Chinese restaurant that only has a Chinese menu, you know that you’re going to get the best of the gelatinous, the most garbage-y of the parts, the slimiest of the slime.

ENJOY!

Variations:

1.Order for each other.  Can be played with an English menu.

2. Combine with the following game…

Foods in Other Foods

“Garcon?  Oh, garcon?  Please bring me your most expensive food, served in your largest food.  Yes, that’s right.  No, I don’t care what those foods are, you oaf, just bring me my dish!”

To play- don’t look at the menu.  It doesn’t work if you know what the foods are.  It won’t be nearly as funny.

You have to order one food, served within another food.  Hopefully they have something large enough on the menu to contain another dish they serve.

We got this idea from regular foods served in other foods- soup or chili in a bread bowl, drinks in coconuts, salad or rice served in a pineapple.

Why aren’t more foods served in other foods?  Since people don’t seem to be getting on board with this concept, simply get restaurants to do it for you.  Perhaps, after seeing the innovation of your lovely creation, they will start to serve it to everyone.

And finally, an anecdote to up the funny factor…

In an entry about playing with food, I feel that I have to include this story.  I mentioned before that I’m a Foods teacher, which is both a blessing and a curse.  It’s a curse in that I have to deal with junior high kids and their shenanigans all day.  It’s a blessing in that…I have a job.  I’m being a bit facetious- there are other perks to the job, none of which come to mind because I’m at the job right now…

For junior high boys, everything is about penises.  You know that scene in Superbad, where Jonah Hill confesses that in grade school, he was sent to counseling because he drew dicks all over everything?  It’s not unusual.  In fact, the boy NOT drawing dicks all over everything is the exception.  He’s the one that needs therapy- he’s not thinking about enough dicks.

I’ve learned a few lessons over the years- like, never make anything called “balls”.  Popcorn balls.  Meat balls.  Snowballs.  Balls is a word to be avoided.

I was surprised when “schnitzel” drew only one snicker.

However, I cannot avoid doing at least one lab with dough.  Kids love cookies and it’s important, I think, to teach them how to measure and mix and bake. 

This leads to Phallic Cookies.

You know how I know you’re gay?

Because you make dick cookies.

You know how I know you’re gay?

Because you are eating a dick RIGHT NOW.

Apparently, in the homophobic world of junior high, making, cooking, holding and lovingly eating while saying “mmmmm” a big plate of penis-shaped cookies is NOT gay.  It’s expected.

So I have yet another group of boys, forming cookies.  I notice they are not going for the standard cookie shape…and I comment “Oh how nice, you’re making heart cookies!”

Snicker snicker snicker “Yeeeahhhhh, HEART cookies!” snicker snicker.

Apparently, those heart-shaped cookies are NOT hearts but are actually very poorly rendered penises.  As usual.

So, I, in my infinite wisdom as a teacher and professional, think “I will embarrass them.”

I get out my camera and start taking pictures and tell them I’ll put them in the yearbook and everyone will see them holding their cookies.

Apparently, this is not embarrassing.  Alas.

Those pictures made it into my master file, which I eventually made available to my colleague, who was putting together the slide show for the Celebration Assembly.

This assembly was supposed to be a feature of the best academics of the term.

There were a grand total of THREE pictures included of Foods.

I gave her a file with maybe 700 pictures in it.

Which three pictures are featured, the size of a gymnasium wall, in front of 600 people?

DICK COOKIES!!!

I’m the greatest teacher of all time.

Moral of this story: If you are what you eat, I’m not eating those damned garbage parts...and most teenaged boys are dicks.

Making the best of a sticky situation? Funny.

I lived in Thailand for a year, about 6 years ago.  It was hot and humid and beautiful and this weird, unreal bubble of existence that allowed freedom and liberty that most people don't enjoy.  It was also very, very much like being anywhere else in the world when it came to office politics.
There were the staff members who basically did nothing, simply showing up and dialing in their performance and collecting the paycheque so they could drink it away on some beach.
There were the staff members who basically did everything, being taken advantage of by others who felt it was their right to do so.
There were the staff members who basically were average, working as much as they needed to, vacationing when they could, trying to stay under the radar and not be involved in idiot drama.
You can probably guess which category I belonged to.
These are not "Thailand-specific" archetypes of office behaviour.  These sorts of people exist all over the world, in all offices, even on television.
But there were a few things that I can't really imagine happening anywhere else, at any other time, under any other circumstance than in that air-conditioned, glassed-in 20' by 40' exhibit we called our office.

Many funny things happened there.
Today I'll just tell you about one.

Adam and the Jam

(a tale of delicate balance)

We worked with this guy named Adam.  He was one of the more "colourful" characters at the school.  Of the 20 or so "falangs" (foreigners) who passed through that office while I was there, I'd say at least half were certifiably crazy.  Adam was in the top three.

He was (and probably is still) a big, stupid meathead; he came with his little, stupid gym rat girlfriend who later earned the nickname "Naked Wendy" when she showed up to a work function wearing the same top that Maria Carey wore in her "Butterfly" video.

He used to eat tuna out of a can.  He HATED tuna.  But he figured that to keep up his stunning physique, he needed protein, and I suppose he couldn't locate one of those giant plastic jars of creatine or whatever, so he ate tuna out of the can with this look on his face like it was either swallow or barf with every bite.

He also had jam in the communal fridge.  Everyone had something in there, and, like every work fridge-cum-science experiment-cum-biohazardous waste unit, it was a wasteland of half-used condiments, spills, moldy old sandwiches and empty soda bottles.

An aside- I cleaned out that fridge, and I cleaned the one at my current work twice.  And both times, I have to wonder- what the hell do these people do at HOME?  Disgusting.  Don't be that guy.  Although, I have another in-my-head scenario about the work fridge that is very funny, to me, but demands that you be that guy.  Maybe I'll write about it sometime.

Back to the Adam story.

He had jam.  We lived in Bangkok, where everything is cheap, including jam.  It's less than a buck for a little thing of jam.  There isn't a lot of variety of jam in Thailand, so everyone basically had the same jam.

But Adam kept track of HIS jam.  At least, that's what he would have us believe.

He used to go in the fridge and FREAK OUT that SOMEONE had been eating HIS jam.  Because, you know, the rest of us are really interested in tuna-laced jam from the office hothead.

He'd yell and post signs and basically make an even bigger ass of himself than usual.  We would all sit at our desks and laugh under our breath.

One day, after a particularly animated crazy session from Adam, my colleague Stephanie decided it was time to teach Adam a lesson.  Adam had drawn a line on his jam jar to show how full it was, so that he could PROVE that someone was eating his jam.  While the rest of us silently wished that Adam would spontaneously combust, Steph sprung into action.

Adam had left to go "teach" his class.  Steph took his jam out of the fridge, stuck a straw in it, and sucked all the jam out of the bottom of the jar, leaving a fragile layer of jam suspended at the line Adam had drawn.

(suck suck suck)

"GASP"

"Oh god this jam is so sweet and disgusting"

(suck suck suck)

The rest of us: LOL

Then she carefully put it back in the fridge.

The anticipation almost killed us waiting for Adam to go get his jam fix.

"Good.  You losers learned not to steal my jam.  Still at the fill line."

(sticks knife in)

"WHAT THE HELL"

It was glorious.  And he couldn't figure out how it had been done.  Ah, the wonders of science...they eluded one Adam Whatshisname, gym teacher extraordinaire.

In the end, Adam was fired for being drunk on the job.  And he never unraveled the secret of the floating jam.

Moral of this story:  Being a dickhead at work may get you in a jam.  Or something like that.

Thought of the Day? Funny.

I send a decent number of emails in a day.  Some days more than others.  I like to think that a lot of daily business can happen in a non-invasive, efficient manner through email; plus then there's a "paper" trail.  Unfortunately, I find that many people- otherwise fully functioning adults, might I add- are not on board with this concept of the "electronic mail".
Arcade Fire wrote a song about mail.  At least, that's what I think it's about...how we used to wait for it...and sometimes it never came...maybe it's about love, or ejaculation.  But I think it's about mail.
Anyway, business email is less exciting than social email, generally speaking.  I upped my spam filters so I no longer get quite as many "cute kitten picture" forwards, and FAR less advertisements for increasing my libido, but not so much that I eliminated my friends' hilarious musings.
There's little better than sitting at your desk, doing some mundane work-related thing, when an email pops up that is sent from someone funnier than you who has something interesting to say.
I have a couple friends who are masterful at this art.
One in particular spent at least a month brightening my day with a thought on something random.

KJ Randoms

"You know what's weird?"

(they'd always start like this.)

"Cashews.  One little cashew nut grows on the end of this great, big, inedible fruit.  On a tree.  So each tree grows, like, 35 cashews.  Isn't that weird?"

"Bologna.  First of all, look at that word.  It should be spelled 'baloney'.  Basically, it's a flattened hot dog.  It's all the same stuff.  But we cook hot dogs and mostly eat bologna cold.  What's up with that?"

"Sock puppets.  Why did people go to socks to make puppets?  Why not gloves or mittens?"

...and so forth.  It was a little bit of delight in my otherwise boring day.  She once also sent me a picture of her giving me the finger with the caption "FU, Fathead".  She's right.  My head is fat.

Receiving these emails is better than going on google and trying to find something funny to look at or read.  It's sort of like personalized comics, without the pictures, unless your friend actually writes you a comic and sends it to you.  It's rad.

So I suggest unto you, readers, that you insert your little ray of funny into your friends' boxes.  Yeah, I said it. 

Moral of this story: Everyone's box could use a little warming.

This spellz lolz? Funny.

The age of digital communication has bastardized and corrupted our use of written language to the point where "LOL" is probably more widely recognized than words like "ubiquitous".
It also makes us bad spellers, or at least, bad spell-checkers.  Especially those with fat fingers.
The computer tells us when we spell something wrong; the iphone goes a step further and corrects us automatically.  Unfortunately- or, in many cases, fortunately- the correction programming isn't without flaws, and sometimes hilarious 'errors' result in opportunity for the funny.

There are actually some very funny websites devoted to this sort of thing, which I'm sure those able to operate a computer are aware of.

But who ACTS upon those mistakes??

We do!

At least, that's the idea.  Our most recent endeavour went over something like this...

Kim: "Yay!  Gathering at my place!  Don't worry about beer or food or whatever- just bring your lovely sleeves."
Bob: "Done and done."

And so, with some hideous/lovely fabric, a little sewing, and some creative application, the catchphrase of the night became "Be your sleeve, guys, just be your sleeve."

Moral of this story: If you aren't your sleeve, who the hell are you?

Kids? Funny.

Sometimes I'm not that funny.  When inspiration of my own does not hit, and I feel like writing nonetheless, I can always draw on that endless source of funny: the world of Junior High.
It is a strange land, one that is all too familiar to the viewer yet completely foreign at the same time.  It is a virtual banquet- nay, BUFFET- of hilarious happenings.  Sure, sure, there's also the complete and utter devastation of being a hormone-riddled teenager full of angsty blather waiting to come out at inopportune moments, but mostly, it's funny.  At least...to me.

So if I can't think of something that I can do or did to be funny, I'll write about something amusing from work.

Thus I give you

Case Study #1: Hungry Teenager

 Kids are hungry all the damn time.  Especially boys.  Teaching Foods is a drag because apparently, my room is a place void of social mores and cultural expectations and the normal greeting of "Hello" is consistently replaced by "ARE WE COOOOOOKING???".  It's annoying.  But that's one of the few drawbacks to teaching what is probably the most favored class in the school.  It's certainly the most taken class- every jerk and their jerk friends take my class.  But I digress.

The hungry teenager I'm going to tell you about was actually hungry in FRENCH class, so forget all that stuff about Foods class.  Instead, imagine a room where there are so many dicks drawn on the wall, the teacher gets a can of paint and paints the whole thing black.

Again, I digress.

I'm teaching one day.  I see this kid chewing intently on something.  He seems perplexed.

"What are you eating?"

(munch munch SWALLOW) "Candle."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah...the guy at the store said it was edible."

"EDIBLE DOES NOT MEAN EAT IT"

Yeah.  All you parental units out there take heed- when they say they're hungry, they really, really are.  If you want any candles, paper, crayons, makeup, spices or play-doh left in your house, feed them real food.

Moral of this story: If I find ONE MORE PENIS ON THIS WALL, so help me...

A Ticketable Offense? Funny.

I often say that I would really like to become a police officer simply to hand out traffic violation tickets.  I would go to the interview, and when they asked “Why do you want to be a cop?”, I’ll respond “Because I want to give out speeding tickets.  Especially in playground zones.”

I don’t know if that would be a positive response or if they would ask me to leave and put me on watch.

I try not to identify with Claire on Modern Family too much, because she’s really neurotic and crazy and the actress seems to get skinnier by the day, but I am with her when she posts the “Slow Down Your Neighbours” signs.  I am also a fan of stop signs.

Since I’m not a police officer, and since I’m not actually interested in making up grammatically questionable posters and putting them around the neighbourhood, I have another way of dealing with my desire to correct other people’s driving mistakes.  Specifically, parking mistakes.

Because, you know, this is my business.

Bob and I started writing tickets.

It’s pretty official looking when we do it.  I have this little notepad, and some reflective sunglasses, and a clicky pen.

“Click click click”

“Lessseee here.  The driver of this SUV is under the impression that if there is a fire, their vehicle will become sentient and remove itself from in front of this hydrant.  Seems to me that automatic sentience is not a feature on this particular model.  Better write a ticket.”

And we write funny stuff, like “Ghost fire trucks are not a thing.  Fires are real.  Move your car or be vaporized.”

Sometimes I draw comics and leave them for people.  Mostly the comics are of what I think the driver looks like and what they were thinking when they parked poorly.

I figure this is a win-win situation.  We win, because we feel vindicated about the situation and like we’ve accomplished something.  At the very least, we walk away laughing instead of enraged.

The driver wins, because instead of us calling a tow truck, they get a funny message or comic that reminds them of the laws that they apparently have forgotten and they can drive away a better person.

I imagine they are received something like this…

“Dum de dum.  Back I walk to my car…”

(pause)

“What is this small paper on my windshield?”

(reading)

“Oh my.  I am indeed parked like a jackass.  I am certainly in the wrong.  How kind of this talented person to point out my faults and allow me the opportunity to correct my behaviour.  I appreciate this fine artistry and the lesson.”

Yeah, that’s almost certainly what happens.

Moral of this story: Learn to park or be subject to my passive-aggressive wrath.

Sticking it to the Man? Funny.

I drive every day.  I drive to and from work on weekdays and to various other things on weekends.  I like driving; my car is swell and inexpensive and usually I’m listening to music and often going somewhere I actually want to go.

As a result of all this driving, I learn about the people in front of me when they choose to share information with me via bumper stickers.

Sometimes I learn about their hobbies:

“You can take my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers”

“I <3 Needlecraft”

“Baby on Board”

Sometimes I learn about their religious inclinations:

“Jesus Fish”

“Darwin Fish With Legs”

“Spaghetti Monster”

Sometimes I learn about their political leanings:

“A Collection of Cells is still a Life”

“Make Love Not War”

“Nenshi Rules”

Sometimes I learn a lot about these people.  Now, in this modern age, you can get bumper magnets.  This removes the commitment and allows even the most fickle driver to express themselves to the people behind.  Because, you know, we all want to know about your sexual desires, your number of spawn, your love of certain breeds of horses.

Thus brings me to the funny of the day.  Random posting of hilarious bumper magnets on people’s cars.  Could be people I know, could be strangers.  Depends on what I have on hand.

Before, if I wanted to follow through with this, people might be really put out, as they would have to spend time and maybe money getting a stupid sticker off their car.  I love my car.  If some jerk put a “I Love Alberta Beef” sticker on my car, I’d be pissed.  But a magnet?  No problem.  Gone in a second.  And I’ve already walked away laughing.

It’s also cheap.  I can get magnets for less than a dollar.  They don’t have to be intended for car bumpers, they just (for this purpose) have to be funny.

A related potential for comedy: self-sticking.  I have stickers on my car that I put on because I thought they were cute.  A few of them sort of bother me now, but not to the extent that I’ll actually get rid of them.  But in the application of stickers to one’s own car lies the possibility of humor.

The one I’ve thought has to do with that trend of advertising how reproductively successful you are.  Or how big of a cat lady you are.  You know what I’m talking about- those line-ups of stick-figure stickers on the rear window- a mom, a dad, three kids and a dog, or whatever familial combination they happen to have. 

I want to find those and get at least a dozen.  AT LEAST.  My car seats four, five if I’m being illegal about it.  Then I want to stick them all the way across my rear view.  Maybe in a couple rows.  Just to throw people off.

“Aw look, that woman has…eight, nine…fourteen…SEVENTEEN KIDS AND A RABBIT??”

…and if they ask about my prolific family, I can look puzzled and respond “OH, is THAT what those are for?  I thought they were like on the side of fighter jets, the numbers of enemies downed.”

He he he.

Moral of this story: A magnetic personality is a terrible thing to waste.