That Thing You Do

In which we shall see: Volume-control issues, dog-walking, cheap-therapy, a man-among-mice, junk-food, a sudden-dent in cell-phone minutes, Gene-Wilder, gourmet-donuts, and fake-swearing, as well as severe abuse of the hyphen.

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Apparently, I give good rant. No, that's not a euphemism - when I get passionately upset about something it seems that whatever latent comic timing I've got kicks in, and it's Comedy Central in my dining room. (Or wherever.) Just louder. I'm not a quiet ranter - when I've got a particular peeve to purge I almost always inadvertently turn the session into group therapy. Fortunately, the neighbors are still too new to know what's happening and/or who to complain to - although it does make me wonder about the people from the next building who no longer walk their dog past my balcony.

There's really nothing quite so therapeutic as as really good blow-up in front of a sympathetic audience - and I'm not talking pseudo-psychologists who try to "fix" or "shrink" or "analyze" you... just the cock-eyed friends who are more than willing to sit enraptured while you make a tremendous fool of yourself, then happily score your dismount. This evening, for example, I had just gotten up a po'ful head of steam with my roomate handling the scorecard (or, playing Solitaire and nodding occasionally) when in walked Friend #2, a newbie to the Mega-Rant, Cyd Style. He was game, though - he donned his protective gear and plopped himself into his front row seat, and barely even flinched at the final explosion. He brought the applause, and his face beamed with new respect after the closing reversal (I have found that the mark of the true professional is CONTROL - build, find layers, pull additional insults from imagined injury to great comic effect while bulging/rolling the eyes and flaring the lips and nostrils, take to the highest possible peak of throbbing emotion... and then drop like a rock in an immediate change of pace and show-of-"normalcy". It kills every time!) AND then he cleaned up the kitchen after the movie. Truly, a scholar and a gentleman.

So, I vented, they laughed, no blood and no road rage and I picked up the pizza - don't you just love a happy ending?


You know that friend you have, the one that just has to say "Hello" on the phone when you call them on a whim and you're suddenly smiling? I talked to that friend tonight too, rant-free, and it was good. I hope I'm that friend for somebody someday - go call yours. Yes, right now - I'll wait.


...


You're back? Cool. Message for the day - let things out while they still have a chance of being funny and before they get destructive, and let others help you laugh them through. Call, call, call - text messages are for wimps! (You know who you are.) Watch Young Frankenstein on at least a semi-regular basis, and remember - donuts are your friends, too... particulary Banbury Cross Donuts. Yum. (Also, DO THE $%^@?# READING. Ahem. Sorry, different post.)

And don't be afraid to develop new talents - no matter how... unusual they might be!



Upcoming post: discussing the merits of discussing (by which I mean "not shutting up about under any circumstances, no matter the proximity of the flames or how badly the other person needs to GO TO THE BATHROOM") your latest reality-show obsession that includes overly-fertile yet maritally challenged couples, tummy tucks, mud-wrestling, and charter services hosted by flying monkeys (I hear that last one is coming to VH-1 this fall). Watch for it.

And, watch out for falling turtles,

Cyd


Meaningful phone calls I made today: 1
Times my body language did not adequately convey my feelings: 1
Times it totally did: 3
Stupid things I did today: 2, maybe 3, depending on your political party