Humor Me


Right now my life is like a romantic comedy – but like – the crappy part where I find myself single and alone in a hotel room eating Taco Time and spilling hot sauce on my sheets. Just like in the movies, I know that I’m about to have a cute, romantic encounter with a Ryan Reynolds-esque character, fall in love, and be stylishly poor together while living comfortably in a Manhattan apartment.

All of my misfortune in the last two months has lead to great writing material. I am like a vault of witty lines, and movie scenes that both scream “pathetic” and “how does she do it all?!“.

Humor has been my saving-grace throughout my life. I grew up on Saturday Night Live and classic comedies like Tommy Boy. Even as a chubby, late-bloomer, humor was my ticket in to the cool-crowd. Or at least a small group of outsiders.

Just like the majority of humanity, I find life easier to bear when I am laughing. Laughing and coming up with witty comedic material; banter for those who are familiar with the term, is my favorite. Much of my material right now comes from my transition to dating in America.

I am glad to have discovered the value of Tinder over the last month. It isn’t all about loose-morals and ego-driven millennials trying to find the next best thing, it also happens to be a great stage for my comedy routine.

If you ever catch me swiping on Tinder or chatting up guys, I’m not flirting. I am trying out my wittiest lines, laughing at my own jokes, and waiting for my audience’s reaction. I guess you could say, I need more friends.

For example, today I was asked by a total stranger “Pizza and make-out tonight?”, shocking that more people don’t love this app. After some light chit-chat, I discovered that this was the poor guys go-to line. No doubt I was just one more girl who was propositioned with this copy-and-paste line from the brilliant young writer. He mentioned that he was afraid I was going to get angry at him for asking me to eat pizza and make out with him. No, in fact, I was flattered. Not interested, but flattered. It wasn’t only the forwardness of his question but also the fact that I was too lazy after moving all day to make the effort. I also didn’t want to get murdered. I wished the poor lad luck on his pizza-kissing endeavors and told him I hoped she tasted like sweet oregano. And that was how I got him to ask me out on a real date.

Dating in Utah county is like being on a martian planet. Everyone is well-groomed, shows up to church on Sunday, but has this cyber-persona that asks for warm pizza kisses with total strangers.

So I guess if I could write the ending to my romantic comedy, where I am obviously played by a younger Kate Beckinsale, I would finish out the scene before me – hot sauce sheets and all – as a prelude to the most epic story of love and adventure that anyone has ever witnessed. But first I have to google ‘how to wash hot sauce out of sheets’.


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