Yesterday I went to a movie with a friend. While watching the previews we had the following conversation:
Friend: “How can Tom Cruise still look that young?”
Me: “Scientology, I guess.”
Friend: “Xenu must be good for the skin. He’s really 150 years old.”
Me: “Yeah, but at least he’s ‘clear’.”
Don’t you just love it when you get to interact with someone who has the exact same sense of humor that you do? She also said, “Stevia tastes like depression to me. It has that same metallic flavor.”
Today was not the first time she’s had me howling with laughter, and I can’t wait for the next time.
Some people are just meant to be writers. She could so easily be the next David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs. Her brand of satiric humor is so rare and special that I’ve only encountered it a few times in my life, and when I have, the person possessing this talent had no idea of his or her power.
But look at me, once again thinking that I know best for someone else. It’s a nasty habit of mine. It’s so easy to hover above someone’s life and convince yourself that you see it more clearly than they do. Unless you are down in those personal trenches, you can’t possibly understand the choices that someone else makes, or decides not to make.
Someone whom I love dearly once told me that I had a joyless, f***ed up existence. That still smarts when I think about it. And let’s face it, it was tactless. But in retrospect, at the time she said it, it was spot on. I’m proud to say it’s no longer the case, though. Maybe there is something to be said for getting a bird’s eye view of someone’s life. But there’s also something to be said for allowing that person to figure it out on their own.
Either way, I still think my friend should be a writer!
A great gift for the one you’re most grateful for. Check out my book. http://amzn.to/2cCHgUu