Tag Archives: humor

Any “Modern Family” Fans in the House?

31 May

In the true spirit of the Inaugural weekend of summer, I kicked off Memorial Day weekend with a book in hand, relaxing next to Alan’s pool. Despite the temperature pushing 90, there were only a handful of people there with me.

Fortunately, the only gay couple there bore a striking resemblance to Cameron & Mitchell from Modern Family, so in addition to cooling off and relaxing, I was able to blur my eyes and imagine I was chilling at a private party in LA instead of a community pool in the suburbs of DC. Because these are the places my mind goes.

Shortly after claiming two deck chairs, they both reclined. The heavier of the two (whom I was mentally calling “Cam”) draped a towel across his eyes, as if he were at a spa. (Apparently I wasn’t the only person imagining myself elsewhere.) “Mitchell” pulled out his phone and was preparing to dial when — all of a sudden — PPBBBBFFFFTTT!

A rather noisy fart broadcast from Cam’s suit. I knew it was Cam because: a) there weren’t really any other people in the vicinity from which the noise emanated; and b) Mitchell just started shaking his head from side to side, eyes closed.

“No. You. Didn’t,” he finally mustered.

“Oh. Yes. I. Did,” Cam replied.

Rather than even ask for an explanation or lecture him about being foul, Mitchell just kept shaking his head in silence, as if resigned to it.

Watching this whole exchange over the top of my book, I was amazed with the nonchalance. It kind of reminded me of when my sister tore up a stall at the YMCA with really bad gas, then made eye contact with the other guests and — by way of explanation — said, “Didn’t want to do that on the bike.”

Screw it. If other people aren’t going to get embarrassed, then neither am I. So I pulled out my camera and took their photo. I was practically inviting them to call me on it:

Probably not a great celebrity look-alike if it means you have to cover your face with a towel.

OH. YES. I. DID. 

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Sometimes I forget I live in a building with other people.

23 May

I’ll admit, I was spoiled by my last place. I had one of only two condos on the top floor of a building, so foot traffic past my door was almost non-existent. Especially because the first four years I lived there, my only neighbor was stationed in Spain. It was awesome.

I’ve since done an absolute reversal, moving onto the middle floor of a much larger (and much noisier) building. All because my condo fee was creeping up too high for my taste. Dumb Alison. I’d gladly pay twice the condo fee if I didn’t hear my neighbor stomping above me at all hours. (And by all hours, I specifically mean between 3:30-5:00am. And by neighbor, I mean you, Michael.)

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Rapture: What a let-down.

21 May

Damn. I have to say, the Rapture was a huge disappointment.

Not that I had any expectations of being Raptured (since I’m both a skeptic and a sinner), but I was seriously hoping that some of the goody-goody-judgmental-holier-than-thou types would disappear. I guess it’s safe to say: we’re all disappointed.

I’d like to interview someone who fully expected to be Raptured today. Here’s what I imagine it sounding like:

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I wish everyone kept it this real. And blunt.

17 Apr

Some of the students in my pottery class are getting hyped up for the annual student show. I’ve attended it before (as a purchaser, not a potter), so I’m familiar with the set-up, but I didn’t know what the process was behind it.

Apparently students who want to participate have to sign up, volunteer to bring some food, and then stick price tags on their stuff. I’m not participating, mainly because I’ve been focused on smaller pieces, but also because I don’t have a ton of stuff that I think is purchase-worthy. Even so, it’s been fun watching other students starting to freak out about it.

Remember the guy I referenced a few weeks back? Of course he’s participating, so yesterday I enjoyed hearing Jill (the owner) trying to coach him in (what I assume is) an attempt to avoid a train wreck with an audience.

“I have two pieces of advice for you,” she told him. “First, a lot of new students get really excited and hyper. They have a lot of nervous energy and they’re kind of spastic. Try not to be that way when there are people here. They won’t buy your shit and you’ll probably break something.”

“What’s the second piece of advice?” he asked, dismissing the first offering.

“Pricing. Don’t price anything ridiculously low – like a dollar – but generally you should probably price a bit lower than you think — you want your shit to sell.”

“It’s going to be hard to price my stuff,” he began explaining. “I mean, I look around and it’s just not similar to anyone else’s pieces. It’s really unique.” (I looked up and saw what looked like an assembly line of bottles coming off his wheel, remarkably similar to the pieces created by the person next to him.)

Jill must’ve done the same thing, because she said, “Easy with the ego, pal. Your shit isn’t that different.”

Amen. That’s probably sage advice for a lot of situations.

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This doesn’t seem well planned…

8 Apr

In the O’Hare airport bathroom this week I encountered this sign:

Does anything about this strike you as odd?

How about the fact that it’s written in braille? Now, I might not be visually impaired, but I think it’s safe to assume that a blind person isn’t going to walk into a public restroom stall and start running her hands over every surface, looking for a plaque that tells her how the toilet works.

Once I processed that image, I thought about the alternative: imagine the poor person who comes in and blindly sits on this toilet without knowing the odd mechanics involved with this toilet seat.

First, it feels like it’s lined with plastic baggies.

Second, it’s quite likely that it will start moving while the person is sitting on it, since it’s triggered by a motion sensor.

I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of experience psychologists are talking about when they use phrases like “emotionally scarred.”

Now that’ve had a chance to think through it, I hope that the braille on that sign isn’t simply repeating the printed instructions that people can see. Instead, when the toilet seat rotates a seated blind person around it and she sticks out her hands for balance and finds this sign, I hope it says:  You might be disoriented, but at least you’re not sitting in someone else’s pee.

Or maybe even: Carnival ride is over. Please dismount and deposit a nickel in the bin on your right.

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