My friend and I were at breakfast today, and, as usual, I said something goofy – and, as usual, she replied, “You’re so funny.” She says that often to me – probably because I like to make her laugh, and tend to usually succeed when trying to do so.
I asked her why I was so funny. “I dunno – you’re just funny,” she answered.
Then the thought of the origin of my comedy skills popped into mind. I thought of these beginnings, and made a note to write about it later. Comedy genesis is what I typed into my iPhone. Then I thought of the word comedogenesis. ‘Wow,’ I thought, ‘I made up a fucking awesome new word.’
Quasi-Related Tangent: Just now, I Googled comedogenesis. As it turns out, it has nothing to do with a sense of humor. At all. Here’s an article about it from the British Journal of Dermatology. As I read over this, I realized, yes, of course – on the packaging of make-up and skin care products is usually written “non-comedogenic.” It means that it won’t clog your pores and cause acne. I guess that can be funny…as long as the acne is not on you…
Back to the story.
I thought it would be worthwhile to tell my friend how I became to be the goofy, funny, wanna-be comedian that I am today. And also, it’d be worthwhile to write about it.
It all started when I was in middle school. I was a nerd – complete with huge, crappy bangs, thick glasses, goofy clothes, and buck teeth that later were covered in metal braces. Basically, I was a disaster. No one wanted to be my friend. I was a total outcast. Other students only talked to me when they needed help with their science homework – or if they were calling me “nerd” or “eager beaver.” Ahh, kids are so cruel. But don’t worry, I’m not permanently scarred or anything…[single tear]
Anyway, I was on the Math Counts team and the Science Olympiad team, so at least I had my brains going for me. But I’m not sure there’s anything else I can say to reiterate how terribly, awfully geeky I was. Then, in eighth grade, I was put into the advanced math class – algebra. I was seated at a cluster table with several other girls. Throughout the course of the year, they started talking to and hanging out with me. Finally, some friends! I would make flower rings out of clay and bring them in to share with the algebra girls, and have “lucky” sand frogs that sat on our desks. [Very bizarre, I know. It was 1996 – what do you expect?]
One night, one of the girls has a backyard camp out, and I was invited. We set up the tent, and got down to the business of camping…in a yard. I don’t remember many of the details – I can’t recall if we had S’mores, what color my sleeping bag was, if there were bugs – but I do remember the most important events of the evening.
At one point, I stood up and began.
Began what, you ask?
I began…to entertain.
Now, entertaining wasn’t completely new for me. As a child, I was quite adorable and cute, always making my mom and family members laugh at my adorableness. [This was before the “busted years” that were the entirety of middle school, by the way.] My mom still tells a story of how one time I came out of the bathroom after a shower wearing my white terry-cloth robe [an essential in my bath time wardrobe since I was a youngster still in single-digit ages] and, holding the ties, one in each hand, silently and with a completely deadpan expression, proceeded to flap them around like they were nun chucks and say, “Fwah fwah fwah!” [insert kung fu soundtrack here]. She actually told that story to my friends when she was here celebrating my 26th birthday. I could only guess ‘The Fwah Fwah Incident’ happened when I was around ten years old.
In the tent with the algebra girls, however, I did no kung fu. I created, on the spot, a series of characters – each with different voices, personalities, desires, attitudes – and did my best improv stand-up routine. Wayne Brady would have been proud of the nerdy little 14-year old girl standing in a tent in a backyard in North Carolina that night. If my memory serves me correctly, I did impressions of a ghetto chick, a foreign [maybe French?] woman, and a slut who nailed used condoms to her wall. Apparently, my disgusting sense of humor had just developed – or I had been learning a lot in my sex ed class. There were other impersonations, I know – but the decade and a half of time has made my memory fade too quickly […or was it all that drinking?]
The day turned to dusk, then to night, as I pretended to be these characters I created. I told their stories, and when I was tired, I finally stopped. The result of these characterizations?
Laughter, and pure, unadulterated joy from the algebra girls. I’m pretty sure one of them peed herself a little bit.
I was so happy to make them laugh with such side-splitting, gut-busting, knee-slapping eruptions. This was the defining moment when I realized that, nerd or not, if you’re funny, people will like you.
I’ve carried this lesson throughout my entire life ever since. And when the braces finally came off, when I traded my Coke-bottle glasses for contacts, when I let the bangs grow out and got some snazzier new clothes – I was still that same nerd, but people were less apt to judge me by my appearance. And if they did, I’d tell a joke. And then they’d laugh. And then we would be friends [98% of the time, anyway…I still meet some bitch-faced girls that I wouldn’t waste a Kenny Bania joke on - “It’s gold, Jerry. Gold!”].
So here we are. I’m 26 years old now. And I’m still the nerd who Googles comedogenesis and actually knows what the journal article is trying to say. And I still have glasses, but they’re kind of hip and cute. And I still tell jokes to make friends – and keep them.
And I always will.
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
~ E.E. Cummings
