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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Tears of a clown



You have heard the term "wear your heart on your sleeve", I seem to have not only have been able to wear it on my sleeve but have adorned my body with it like some "flair" obsessed TGI-Fridays waitress. Being a big old crybaby is just part of who I am, and this is me owning it.

What really gets me is the family stuff. My family life has always been far from ideal and when I witness a little slice of what others sometimes take for granted, it's an instant license for me to crawl into a fetal position and weep like there is no tomorrow.

The strange thing is, What makes others cry, most often does nothing to bring me to tears. Death? I can handle it. Disasters of nature don't get to me. One time I saw a child crying on the sidewalk next to an overturned bicycle. "Walk it off you pussy" I thought inside my head as I drove on by. To be fair, I was in a hurry that day and also that McRib sandwich at McDonalds was not going to eat itself.

Maybe all this shedding of tears has been a product of my environment. Growing up I was literally forced to watch episode after episode of "Little House on the Prairie". While it was indeed a good vehicle for Michael Landon and his words of wisdom, it also seemed to teeter on the edge of horror instead of some family-friendly drama. Who can NOT cry when someones barn burns down every week? I kid you not one season half the townspeople on that show went blind! And I am pretty sure there was an episode where Albert's girlfriend gets raped by a family member who was wearing a scary mask. These episodes were usually followed by our 9pm bedtime. Sweet Dreams? Fat chance!

I think I feel the need to bring all this crying upon myself at times. Some people cut themselves to feel, I cry. Instead of a razorblades I use YouTube. YES YouTube I said it! Oh kids you have no idea how dangerous this game is. Try surfing this site for a while and you are destined to be crying like a TV evangelist caught in a cheap hotel with a tranny hooker. Weddings, Love Songs, Pet survival stories, it's all there. Instant deliveries of love and happiness just a few clicks away. The embarrassing part of these "YouTube" episodes comes when I lose track of time and my friend Nicole walks in and finds me red faced, eyes swollen and blubbering in a pool of my own tears. She finds me and a look of sadness comes across her face. She reaches down and gently lifts my head out of my hands and with a scream of "What the hell man" she proceeds to bitch slap me until she can see blood instead of tears. Oh its for my own good, I think,and I hobble off to the bathroom to clean up my shame and despair.

I would like to say this is something I will eventually grow out of or just get over, but deep down I know that is just not the case. This is who I am. As long as Oprah is there to build a school for poor African girls, I too shall be there to cry as they marvel at flushing a toilet for the first time. When people get buried in a mine shaft, trapped in a well or freed from North Korea I will also be there to turn on those water works as we cheer their homecoming. And rest assured the next time American Idol does a segment on their latest singer who is blind, working 3 jobs to support her terminally ill parents, lost her house in a hurricane and whose dog was killed by a runaway semi full of bunnies on fire, yes I will be there also!

That is just me I guess, always crying with the sinners rather than singing with the saints. Each time I cry I remember who I am and what I want out of life. A McRib sandwich and a box of Kleenex.

3 comments:

  1. I absolutely love you. And you seriously need to get this blog out there, you are hysterical. And I slap you out of your crying episodes for your own good :)

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  2. PS: I should be your official editor :)

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  3. Thanks Nicole, I know you slap out of love.

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