Things I will not be telling my kids if I ever want them to believe I'm cool

Embarrassing moments. Like farts, we all have them; some people have no problem talking about them, and others are a bit more private about them. I keep my farts a secret, but I WILL tell you some of my most embarrassing moments. How's THAT for an A+ introduction?!? My high school English professor might have written next to this, "Crude, but effective." Thaaaat's me!

My freshman year of college, I stayed out past curfew (that's right, curfew at college) so I could stay late after a concert and hang out with the band. They were from my school anyway, but they were still Indie rock stars (in my eyes) and therefore infinitely cool. We went to the equally infinitely cool but also very classy International House of Pancakes, because even in the "big city" that's the only thing open past 11. I have said on this blog before that I learn all my humor from funnier people, and that was especially true my freshman year. I hadn't quite learned the subtle art of stealing STYLE of humor...no, I preferred the easier method of directly quoting lesser-known comedians without credit. People assumed it was my material, and I gladly let them. I tended to be overshadowed by my even more outgoing and much funnier friends, so any leg-up I could get was incredibly helpful. We sat across from the lead singer, a very gangly, redheaded, quiet, inexplicably-godlike guy who could sing the ugly off a Klingon woman. Yeah, that good. Seriously, if you see a picture you won't get it, but somehow he's really hot. So I decided now would be a fantastic time to show off my totally original comedy. I said, "But really, I don't get why they call it 'IHOP.' I never leave here feeling like hopping. Shouldn't they call it, 'I...barely move' or 'I...need a wheelbarrow'?" And I got a really good laugh out of it from friends and band members alike. Then Corey softly, almost hesitantly, chimes in with, "Didn't a comedian say that?" Tennis-match style, everyone swivels to look at me. "Uh...yeah," I croak. "It was Jim Gaffigan. Thanks, Corey." Then I proceeded to turn 6 shades of red and get a flash of my future, filled with disappointment and disillusionment as a humorist. CBFF Christi still tells that story to anyone who starts to think I'm sort of funny...or anyone who will listen to her if I start to think I might be funny.

I currently sell furniture at a major company in Michigan. One day I was showing a man a bedroom set for his spare room, and he asked me to figure out the price on the whole group, but he wasn't going to buy it that day. If we know they're not going to buy that day we have to get a second person to try to convince them to buy it then, or at least to give them two people's names to hopefully remember when (if) they come back in. So I got an older man named Bill who has been there about twenty years. Bill chatted him up for a bit while I got the prices written down on my card, and I put Bill's name on the card as well. I handed it to the man, showed him both our names for when he came back, and he said, "Could you write down some identifiers too?" Confused, I said, "Sure," and took the card back. I looked at it for a second and next to Bill's name I wrote, "Older man w/ glasses" and next to my name I wrote, "Young, dark hair" and showed him what I'd written. He looked at it straight-faced and said, "That's great. ...Could you also write down what the furniture looks like?"

We had a male gym teacher in high school who also taught Bible classes, history classes, coached soccer (JV and Varsity, both the boys' and the girls' teams), and was married to the Physics/Chemistry/Earth Science teacher/volleyball coach. Yeah, it was a small school. Seniors babysat their kid in the halls during their afternoon classes. His favorite thing to do was have us play indoor soccer. It didn't take much organization, we all knew the rules, he could sit in the corner and watch videos of the boys' games, and his girls could practice for spring season. I had discovered the awesome and oh-so-cool tearaway pants, and since they were PANTS I didn't see a reason to wear shorts under them. That's just begging to sweat through your underwear and get some serious swass* that you'd have to deal with for the rest of the school-day. BFF Cori told me on a few occasions that I should wear shorts, but I would not. I was going to march to the beat of my own drum, be a unique butterfly that intimidated people and that's why I never got asked out, and other cliches my mom told me during the 9.7 years I was in my awkward stage. While playing indoor soccer one day, I ran after the ball (which meant all eyes were on me), and hooked my thumb between two of the snaps accidentally, thereby revealing to everyone the utility and efficiency of tearaway pants...and also my underwear. I instantly collapsed like a rag doll, desperately trying to reattach a few of the snaps and possibly disappear into the floor as well. Unsure whether to laugh or cry hysterically, I settled for shaky laughter and misty eyes. Unfortunately, our teacher occasionally looked up from his soccer tapes and chose those few minutes as a good time to check in on our game. We didn't make eye contact for a week.

*Update: I realize I never explained "swass." This is what my coworker Tom affectionately calls "swamp ass," or the point in the day when you're sweating enough that your damp underwear begins to chafe your buttocks. And it's very uncomfortable. And apparently he gets it a lot at work. Because he sweats like my mom during a hot flash.

New Kind of Post...

OK, so I'm sorry to inform you of this but...I've been drinking tonight. GASP yes I drink sometimes. Seriously not very often. Like BARELY ever. What are you, my mother? I'm old enoough, get off it!

It's a good thing I'm very careful about my spelling/grammar...you might never know I've been drinking except for my random thought-jumps. Yes, that's an awesome new word I just made up. Thought-jumps. Use it...but give me credit or you'll owe me $3 every time you say it. Yes, I've definitely copyrighted that word just now. No, not kidding.

OK, yes, I was kidding just then.

Wanna hear a funny story? Too bad, you're going to hear my story instead. (haha...self-deprecating humor joke) Anyway, so last night I came home from work with my name-tag on because my job is one of those awesome ones where you have to wear a name-tag and someone who barely graduated high school could get my job and I'm not sure why I work there because I graduated college with a 3.95. Uhhhhh, anyway, I was still wearing my name-tag when I got home, so I thought, "OK put it in your coat because you would NEVER go without your coat at this time of year, so you'll definitely bring your coat to work with you tomorrow, and you'll thusly have your badge tomorrow." (Thusly: a very awesome old-English word like THUS but cooler because everything's cooler when you add an -ly) It was a foolproof plan. FOOLPROOF I TELL YOU. ...So I got dressed today and wore a sweater-coat and THUSLY (again, awesome) did NOT wear my coat. WHAT are the odds? Crazy, man. Life is crazy.

Just as randomly, I made a new best friend. Don't tell Cori or Christi. Her name is Katie. (something about that "K" sound, apparently I love friends with a "K" sounding name) Anyway, she's my best-work-buddy-Tom's girlfriend, and I love her. That's not just the alcohol. She's super sweet and funny and best of all she thinks I'M FUNNY which gives her like a gazillion points in the "Points towards becoming Ashlee's new BFF" category...which is really the only category in life that matters at all. Besides salvation. ...Where did THAT come from? And salvation isn't a point system at all! ...See where this thought-jump thing became an awesome word to copyright? Genius. Point of the story (cuz even I lost interest in it): I love her and will keep her forever.

I also replied to an eharmony.com message in this inebriated state. GASP yes I am on eharmony. As of like 2 weeks ago. OK, the thing is, it's like my friend Alex and her love of peanut butter on pizza, I couldn't KNOW it was awful until I tried it (the pizza, that is). Then I did and guess what? it was WRETCHED. But I didn't know until I tried it. Same thing of online dating. Don't hate until you have tried it. YES it's super lame. NO I don't think it's the only way I could ever find someone who "completes me." MAYBE I think Mr. Right's on there. Whatever, that's unimportant...this blog isn't about me. WHO AM I KIDDING of course it is! Anyway, I replied to a guy that I don't really like, so I don't really care if I'm slightly sloshed when I reply to him.

OK, this is not the comedic gold that I try so hard to put on here every time I post something new, but I felt bad about not posting in a little while. I hope all 3.5 of my viewers enjoy this, and I'll try to post something that I've legitimately thought out very soon. Thanks all!

God bless us, every one!!! (Tiny Tim???...where did that COME FROM?? This Christmas spirit thing is really getting to me, and it's annoying...)

Warning: Leaving PC Area; Enter at Own Risk

I apologize to all my die-hard fans that have been on the verge of suicide without an update from me for the past (few?) month(s). So sorry. I’ve been working about 50 hours a week making a pittance selling furniture to the cheapest people on earth. Nope, not Jews. Old Dutch people. No, seriously, those Holocaust survivors have nothing on Hollanders. They come in driving brand new Buicks but want me to cut them a deal on a $100 ottoman. I could make a fortune if my boss gave me $5 every time I ask someone how they’re doing and they tell me they’re “just looking.” One of my favorite lines (yes, that means this has happened more than once) is when they want me to show them the $88 mattresses and I tell them I wouldn’t put a dog on those, but show them anyway. They see it, feel the metal springs through the 1/8 inch thick padding and say, “Well, it’s just for my daughter. She’s only 8. It’ll be fine. And delivery’s free, right?” Really? If you’re going to buy this POS mattress for your kid and you DON’T want to spend as much on delivery as you did on that mattress, I think you can fold down the seats of your Escalade and just find a way to git ‘er done, you cheap son of a – Anyway. Even the Asian people know how to blow me off. When they’re not trying to get me to pay their sales tax, give them free delivery and throw in a couch for 20 bucks, they give me the same “just looking” as everyone else…except that they’re more like “just rooking”. Oh, sure, they just nod, smile and act like they don’t understand English when I explain to them that if I give more than $200 off a $500 chair I'll make about 27 cents, but they sure know “just rooking.” Is that the first thing they teach them in ESL class? After “free derivery?” and “no, is too much, we go Big Rots instead” of course.

This is shaping up to be a very racist post. First the Jews and now the Asians. Is there a major people group I have NOT offended? I’m sure I can fit them in here somewhere. Oh…yeah…I found them. I knew I was missing a large, dark part of the population. But I can’t. I’ll tell a short anecdote of someone ELSE’S un-PC-ness instead. (**Did anyone else say "PC-ness" out loud and hear "penis"? Was that just me? OK, yes, I'm a 12-year-old boy laughs when someone says "pianist"...anyway...) My boss this summer (not the cool young one but the ignorant older woman) was in a meeting with some very…diverse…members of the Fort Wayne community and kept saying “Afro-Americans.” My cool boss was mortified. He thought he was going to get shot. When he related it to me, of course I laughed heartily at his uncomfortable expense. Also, one of my co-workers asked me the last name of this black guy who works next door to us, and my friend Tom said he was pretty sure his last name was “Blackman. Brian D. Blackman.” AAAAND…she believed him. She probably would have called him Mr. Blackman if we hadn’t set her straight. (For any slow readers/auditory learners out there, say "Brian...D. Blackman" out loud...a few more times...you'll get it eventually.)

…And don’t get me started on the Mexicans!! Sorry, I had to. I actually have nothing bad to say about them. They might not be here legally, but they pay with cash and they don’t typically come back to complain. However, we have ONE Hispanic woman that works at our store, and I’ve tried not to stereotype and joke that every Hispanic person that comes through the door knows her, BUT THEY DO. Even if they don’t ask for her the second I greet them, I work with them for 5 minutes and they ALL—WITHOUT EXCEPTION—ask, “Does Maria work today?” I’d also make a ton of money if my bosses paid me $5 every time THAT happens.

Tom and I were the “lucky” ones who got to walk in the Holland Parade of Lights behind the store truck tonight, and I decided to make the most of it and pass out my business cards; I even did Tom a favor and wrote his name on them. But then TOM (who, by the way, typically has no qualms about making a fool out of himself) got really embarrassed when I went into the crowd and asked if anyone needed a mattress or a sofa!! It’s called networking!? I was singing along with the Christmas carols and dancing with Jingle Bell Rock, so clearly they would rather work with me than a creepy old man who watches them lie on a mattress for 20 minutes. If those people come back in with my card and I split half the deal with Tom, he’s not going to be so embarrassed, is he? Eh, he probably will be anyway. But he’ll still be spending that commission check, regardless of how embarrassed he was at the way I got them to come to the store, won’t he? How very “Tale of the Little Red Hen” of him…or…some other fable that accurately mirrors this real-life story.

In other news, this week is the busiest my social life has been in like…a month. Dinner with family tonight, out to the brewery wearing ugly Christmas sweaters with Tom and my new/his friend Katie tomorrow, date on Thursday, and maybe something Friday. Is this what normal extroverts feel like?

…And on Black Friday I had an Indian woman with curried B.O. coming from every pore.

Ah...bigotry mission accomplished. CBFF Christi would be so proud.

Update: I retract any and all statements that may have offended Asians, Dutch people, Mexicans, Africans, African-Americans (who I think actually go by "black" now?? not sure), and God's chosen people, the Jews. We all have tendencies and quirks that make us unique and set us apart from everyone else, but that does not mean that one race/people/creed is better than another, and until we break the cycle of hate and satirical "truth," we will never be truly ONE.

Update again: I retract my retraction. It's a freakin' humor blog. Get some thicker skin, ya PC Commies.

Getting to Know You, aka the most I'll ever quote The King and I

(I'm not a huge fan of that musical, though I love MANY THOUSANDS of others)

I’m not sure we’re really acquainted. Although, except for the monkey that follows my blog (seriously, I’m flattered, but WHO ARE YOU?), you DO know me. But to anyone who might stumble upon this site by accident or random Kevin-Bacon-game bunny trail from some person to me, and be indubitably struck by my quirky brilliance, I will describe myself to you a bit more. And perhaps you who know me will be enlightened further.

I’m an original copy-cat. But Ashlee, what does that mean? you undoubtedly ask. Answer: anything that you read on this blog that makes you laugh has probably been stolen—in format, not in content. I don’t plagiarize, everything on this site is really made up from my weird mind, but my humor is not my own. I have learned how to be funny from my CBFF Christi and a few funny people I read. Allie of Hyperbole and a Half fame is one of those funny people. Dave Barry is another. Self-deprecation and run-on sentences with too many adjectives come from these people. So, don’t stop reading me, but read them too. You probably won’t think I’m that funny anymore, but they’re hysterical.

I’m a NERD. Not even a geek, because geeks are cool and get to go to awesome stuff like Comic-Con and Star Wars conventions and gamer expos. Nope, I’m just a nerd. I graduated college Summa Cum Laude with a 3.95 GPA, I correct everyone’s grammar (if not out loud, in my head), I am the ONLY one in my family that finds my engineer father’s dry humor hilarious, and I think of puns all the time that I don’t actually say because, as a rule, all of my peers would look at me like their grandfather wouldn’t even make a joke that lame. I know this because on the few disastrous occasions when I have tested out one of these puns that seem oh-so-witty in my mind, this is the reaction I have gotten:
Hence, the whole stealing-other-styles-of-humor thing. My dad would have laughed hysterically…or at least understood the joke and chuckled to placate me. But no one else finds it truly funny. (Super-fun side note: if you take my advice and look at the blog I mentioned, you will see that even my style of artwork is stolen from Allie)

I have a very obsessive personality. It doesn’t take much for me to like something...and when I like something, I LOVE IT. Examples: 1) CBFF Christi told me she loves the show Dexter. I watched three seasons in about a month to be caught up with her. 2) Lost: I got sick of hearing all the hype without understanding what they were talking about, so I watched four seasons in a month and a half, even when it got unbelievably stupid and more than usually impossible. When I got like this in college, CBFF knew that if she walked into our room and I was there, I was going to be watching the show of the month, whatever it was. And she was going to hear synopses of the episodes because I’m also very expressive and can’t help but laugh or go “aw” or something when I’m watching a show with my headphones in. She was always very patient and pretended to be avidly interested in the nuances of shows she had never seen and characters she had never heard of. IMDB is my enabler in this obsession. It is far too easy to search for the movie I’ve just seen and figure out why that supporting actor looks so familiar. Then I have five movies he’s been in RIGHT on the tip of my tongue in case someone says, “I don’t think I remember who you’re talking about. What else has he done?” Which happens surprisingly often (I don’t have too many film-geeks for friends). When LOTR came out (and if you don’t know/can’t figure out what that stands for, just stop reading my blog right now), my dad and I went to a flea market and bought a replica of Sting (complete with “made in Pakistan” on the blade), my parents gave me the Evenstar necklace for Christmas, and I learned all the Elvish phrases in the (first) movie. Don’t bother telling me how pathetic I am, I already know. It’s totally another “dad” characteristic: my dad watched Phantom of the Opera and we all saw the musical together at Western Michigan University when I was 18 (four years ago) and he would STILL watch that movie every other night if my mom didn’t put her foot down. We also bought all three Extended Versions of LOTR and he tries to make it a tradition to watch all three over a Christmas vacation weekend. It’s pretty unsuccessful, but that’s not the point. The point is that he’s really obsessive, and so am I.

I do things specifically so people will think I’m cooler—usually guys. Example: guns are pretty cool, and I like shooting targets with my dad and learning how to make bullets because it’s an obscure skill that I will never use but that is fun to have in my arsenal (ha, arsenal…guns…see? That’s my natural humor: LAME). But I really like that I know just enough about guns to seem cool to a guy who has a small to moderate gun knowledge, i.e. every single American guy on the planet except those who know way too much about guns. I mean, even the pacifists I know who would never own a gun in real life play a crap-ton of video games equipped with armories that would make a trigger-happy 19 year old Marine go, “Umm, I think that might be a little overkill.” Also, I recently had WAY too much car trouble than should be allowed for a broke college grad living far from home with no job and an essentially brand-new car. So I did a lot of Googling about crankshaft position sensors, limit-home settings, camshafts, and spark plugs. To any mechanic trying to screw me over or tempted to think I was gullible and ignorant, I threw in JUST enough car lingo to make them think otherwise. A very useful tool. Also, I think Star Wars and Star Trek really are cool (see above weird fact #3 about me), but I want to know so much more random trivia about it JUST so I will be cooler in the eyes of fellow geeks of the male gender, which is invariably who I am always attracted to even though I desperately wish I would fall for the rugged, muscular, exotic guys who are well-read and well-traveled (side note: this is exactly like my male friend who wants to date a redhead—or just Amy Adams—more than anything in the world, but always dates girls of other hair color—usually with brown hair and glasses). And lastly, I like some video games, but my skill level is very much a typical girl skill level (very low) and I only like Mario kind of stuff, and only on the N64. It’s my favorite system, for sure. But I like movies a lot, and some video games like Oblivion and Assassin’s Creed are a lot like movies because there’s a good storyline, and Fallout 3 is pretty cool too. However, though I don’t play them and don’t get geeked out about graphics or awesome moves or anything, I will watch a guy play video games for a good two or three hours 1) to spend time with someone of the opposite sex, and 2) so he will think I like video games and therefore am cool. I will never attempt to pick up a controller, even if I am offered an opportunity, because without fail I will be outed as a less-than-devoted gamer. This has led to many a yawn-stifling evening watching a friend free the demon-warrior-ghost from his crypt only to slay him with rapid-fire thumb movements and save the medieval kingdom from inevitable destruction by genetically altered goblins.

So, that sums up the weird world of ME…for now. There is just so much more that I’m not willing to share with you…namely because I would be hesitant to share it with a therapist, let alone you crazies/future employers/possible lovers on the Internet. And…you…know who you are??

If I suddenly triple my follower count from this post I’ll add more wacky facts about myself, but I’m out of ideas at the moment so I’ll try to eat my Comedy Wheaties in the morning to keep up my humor-strength. Might take awhile. I know, I know…you’re ALL waiting with bated breath. Especially that monkey.