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Tuesday, April 29, 2008

i'll take it

margarita & tat
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.
several years ago, i mustered up the courage to ask a friend who was responsible for doing her hair. it was much nicer than mine.

"oh, it's "M", she was surprised that i didn't know.

"who? do i know her?"

"she does the hair for the cast of the french version of the office."

"oh..." she was out of my hair’s league. but i bravely asked for the number anyway.

M always seemed to run behind schedule for my appointments. the first few visits consisted of me waiting on her red velvet couch, having to listen to a 45 minute conversation between her and a metrosexual about the customization his fauxhawk. his high energy and her enthusiasm drained what little i had. when it came my turn to sit in the chair, a pale, pallid, exhausted, and ugly person stared back at me.

"you dyed your hair too dark," she gently counseled.

"yeah..." i sighed. the dark circles under my eyes seemed accentuated.

these awkward exchanges continued for months. until one day when i showed up with a little extra energy and she wasn't running behind schedule.

"you got a little sun. and your hair isn't as dark. you look good," she said.

"thanks," i said. "i really like the dark hair on you though. it works."

she proceeded to tell me how she saw felicity huffman during her recent trip to mexico. i feigned thrill. and noticed my smile lines.

and then she divulged a friend's sexual orientation temporary derailment.

"i heard you had a breakthrough with M," said my friend who gave me the number. "she had been waiting so long."

i gushed. "we talked about a momentary lapse of gayness..."

i catsat and moved into her apartment when she and her boyfriend returned to mexico for 6 weeks. and i even appreciated it when, after trying to coordinate a sunny afternoon beverage through a facebook thread, she barked "NOOO COFFEE" at us.

did she talk to the metrosexuals like that?

someone cared about split-endy me.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

the embarra-crush

alexe and sosi
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.
not too long ago, i revealed to a friend that i had developed an unfortunate crush on leonardo dicraprio. it was due to the watching of blood diamond. and the reason was his perfectly awful south african accent.

in late winter i noticed that a "comedy writing workshop" was being offered by a man who i have been triflingly stalking for a couple of years. not for reasons of any accent, but for reasons of his writing.

i was too scared to join alone, so i forced a friend to sign up as well. during the first class, we all introduced ourselves. there was "sweater", who declared that graph paper was the only way to go when writing down email addresses. there was the "angry russian journalist" who could not understand the difference between kramer and jerry, and the "stand up comic" who responded to statements like, "that can be a pain in the ass…" with "... and so's a greek with a hard on!" and finally there was the guy who could not stop mentioning warren buffet.

comedy class.

"i don't want to read my story to these people. i don't want to share any part of myself with these people." stated my friend after one of the classes. i was debilitated with guilt.

"i'm sure we'll be laughing about this in a couple of days... hey - do you think we should maybe call the police? i'm sure those jokes about the arabs and the jews constitute hate literature."

"i think that guy has a goiter. that's not just a double chin."

on another occasion, my stalkee-teacher decided it would be a good idea to present audio clips of stand up comedians to give us an idea of what's considered funny. because it certainly wasn't our efforts. he played a five-minute bit on someone going on about hot pockets - that weird microwave thing. sweater, anger, and the closeted homosexual sat grim-faced while every time the comedian sang the "hot pocket" theme, i curled up in laughter. but because no one else found it funny, i suppressed my laughter, which only made tears flow.

while digging my friend's car out of the snow after class, i confessed how the singing of the hot pocket song made me break out into a sweat.

"i got really cold when it ended," she confided.

"my knees almost gave out."

"holding in my laughter made me pee."

"i don't see how anyone could find warren buffet funny."

later that week i emailed the teacher with my concerns about the anti-jewish/anti-arab sentiment from double-chin (the goiter is under investigation). he emailed back saying that "sometimes the attempt at comedy can be ugly."

he shall be stalked no more.