Some self-help book instructed me to describe my future under ideal conditions. Imagine this as fully as you can with as much detail as possible. Son, this neurotic S.O.B. is gonna give you more than you bargained for.
-I’m writing for a sitcom in NYC, I’ve been a member of the Writer’s Guild for a few years already and I’m seasoned in teleplay writing structure. I’m well liked at work because I always acknowledge good work from others and give due credit. I invite coworkers out for drinks on occasion and since these are low-key events, I even invite the coworkers that have less than desirable personalities. If everyone’s ok with it maybe even invite the boss, the needs of the many outweigh the few (unless I think the boss is super cool then fuck it, they’re invited). I still do standup and support my comic colleagues. The amount of standup I do per week depends on how strongly I feel my voice (an Asian American voice) needs to be heard.
-I live in Brooklyn (close enough to Mom and Dad that I can cab-rush over in emergencies, to shovel snow, etc.). The place is a 1-bedroom, not glamorous but cozy.
-I still see my 3 closest friends Marc, Jason, and John throughout the year. Marc doesn’t get out very often; he’s happily settled in with his wife and kids so I don’t bother him much unless I’m driving up (car rental) to see him, then I make sure to bring his kids toys/gifts. I see Jason for hockey games and we shoot the shit; I worry that he still hasn’t found balance in his life but his friendship still means a great deal to me. I see John whenever I visit Selina and Andy in Philly. I also catch up with Philly-based comics that decided to stay Philly-based. I do a few mics/shows and mentor (give unsolicited advice to) some of the new guys while I’m in town. If anyone I respect/trust has a serious desire to move to New York and write I make an effort to help them. Of course, if they’re just looking for a place to crash on a weekend trip into the city, my couch is open (still a bit of a germaphobe so I ask/check them for bedbugs, etc.).
-I make enough money to not worry about rent or a rainy day. If I ever come across a great idea or company/startup I invest some disposable income (dinosaurs should stop hoarding all the money/resources).
-I still haven’t seen all 50 states but I’m working on it. I can make at least 7 dishes (1 for every day of the week, garlic bread doesn’t count).
-I’m in love with a woman with a full schedule herself so she understands my life and even likes that we’re comfortable not seeing each other all the time. This doesn’t mean we don’t want to see each other; she sleeps over (and vice versa) regularly so even if we don’t talk to each other on a certain day, at least we get to smell each other (not as creepy as it sounds). We discuss how we should move in together, but this is usually when we’re both a little tipsy on craft beer (I don’t drink bourbon anymore unless I’m having a rough day) or when I’m staring into her face in the morning as the budding sunrise illuminates the room. These are the moments I feel the most romantic. Outside of these Prince Charming flashes, we don’t talk about moving in together because frankly, we like our situation (or maybe because I don’t want to scare her off). I don’t have children, I don’t want children of my own (although I think they’re adorable). She also says she doesn’t want children but she’s still young enough to change her mind; maybe that’s why we’re in a (very happy) holding pattern, because I don’t want to ruin her life in case she does flip on the kids thing. Then again I should take her at her word and respect her thoughts and opinions (I still have a problem with that with people in general).
-All in all, I still haven’t discovered the secret to universal laughter but I keep on searching. Plenty of room to go up but I’m not at the bottom.
-Oh and also at some point I learned how to drive a manual transmission.
They say a good speech should be short and simple but let’s give long and complicated a try.
Love. First solve for x, keeping in mind that x equals two x plus y times pi. Pi is represents by poontang… poontang pi. Ohhh, is there pie at this reception? Pumpkin is in season but I guess it always is, thanks NAFTA, you’re great and so is the handsome groom, my buddy John. He has always had his finger on the pulse. There was the one year he showed me that popping my collar was cool. And then the next year, he showed me that it wasn’t cool anymore. It’s been a pleasure watching you grow. It used to be whisky out of a flask, then it was beer out of a glass boot, now you won’t drink anything that isn’t served in a mason jar. Were we in a fraternity together? I honestly can’t remember. Do you have weird symbols on your back too?
In conclusion, I don’t feel like I’m losing a friend, I feel like I’m gaining a friend’s wife. And half-hearted promises to hang out.
The other night, I broke a personal record for the # of hugs given/received. I used a standard technique that you can employ in any social gathering, like a cotillion or a literary death match.
1) size up the person to decide if an upward, downward, or straight ahead hug is appropriate.
2) one arm high, one arm low thus forcing the participants to rest their head in the cradle of each other’s neck.
3) make a sighing noise to let the other person know they feel like home.
4) whisper a short phrase, preferably an inside joke made recently, or a long affirmation of the strength of your friendship even though you don’t know each other that well.
5) release, because a line is forming.
Now go forth and make someone feel special. Or weird, it’s really a crapshoot.
Hey there. Remember me? We met in freshman year of college, in those shitty dorms that didn’t have any paint on the walls. We talked about how they should paint them…the lamest small talk. Somehow we laughed, and by the next time I ran into you I thought you were incredibly boring. I was done with you. No offense, it’s just that you kept talking about organic foods. Wow, the kale from Whole Foods is better than anywhere else?? NO WAY! Ok, I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a dick, but you get the point. We had nothing in common. It took me 4 days to figure out you were a weird mélange of Soulja Boy references and spiritual crap talk. But by that point, it was too late. We had already ‘friended’ each other on Facebook. MISTAKE.
Today, I see your updates, about how “traffic on 76 is buggin’”. What? What could that possibly mean? Even by slang standards that sentence is inadequate. Why would you type that into a place called “News Feed”?
Listen, we had a good run. I remember I would see your beach photos and convince myself that I was going to catch up with you, possibly even meet up. Then I realized that I wasn’t aware of where you were currently living, nor did I give a shit. WE TALKED ABOUT A LACK OF PAINT ONCE! That’s all we have in common: neither one of us loves drab interiors. Now you are posting pictures of your bible scripture tattoo located like, 3 inches from your vagina. And while I find that to be funny, I have to remind myself that I’m laughing more at you than with you.
Let’s be honest: you probably don’t care about my life either. I doubt you are amused by my stand-up comedy events which I invite you to. You don’t even respond to a single one. Do you think I will get mad at you if you hit “Decline”? No, but I did get mad when you posted the ENDING TO BATMAN. Are you bat-shit insane? Regardless, I am sure you probably loath all the quips I post on my newsfeed. Maybe you find me to be superficial, because I make jokes instead of talking about how the “Shore is bumpin, for REAL ;)”. I detest the Shore and I think your mango-blotchy skin looks like it’s been sun-dried and recycled back onto your body. That’s pretty harsh, but it’s ok because you aren’t going to read my little crappy comedic article. Why? We are two ‘friends’ who don’t directly communicate with each other, in any way…ever. Heck, it’s been over two years since you’ve ‘poked’ me, and ‘poking’ is the most arbitrary thing to happen to the internet since Google+. Actually, poking came first, so that doesn’t really make sense, but again…you aren’t reading.
So I guess it’s time to delete you. Before I do, please know that I want great/decent things to happen to you. Maybe that tattoo will land you on a reality show: one about tattoos, or about being pregnant and flat broke. You will get paid a bunch of money which I might be able to borrow at some point. If you have money then I will find a place for myself in your life.
Now you just updated your status to “Ugh.” Really? That has to be the most tepid thing a human can possibly share with other humans. Text comprised of three letters, letting everyone know that you are feeling “ugh” today. That status is “ugh.” If you aren’t going to share your misfortune for me to shrug at, why am I reading about you? I can’t do this anymore. All your pictures of food, your half-assed promotion at your dodgy job, your transient affairs with countless thugs…
Wait, I just noticed you ‘liked’ my status. Now I remember why we are friends. You think I’m hilarious. OK, I’ll keep you around for a bit. Happy Birthday, enjoy the Shore.