Thursday, February 5, 2009

I'm bringing spicy back!

I'm good! All better!

Yesterday was a good day.

Today is good too.

My mum just phoned me. I love it when she does. We chatted about this and that - literally about this. This blog and how I cheer her up with my funny story of Stuart's jump drive.

I like to hear that I cheer people up but I also like to hear about how funny I am. Is that pride? It feels like it might be. The truth is that sometimes I'm typing out real life stories of myself and I'm laughing really hard. I find myself to be really funny and try to paint the most vivid picture of the hilarity as possible. I find myself hoping for something embarrassing to happen to me so I can write and laugh about it. I don't even find embarrassing things to be embarrassing anymore. I first realised that when I was saying that prayer at Beki's wedding. I knew I should be embarrassed but it was hilarious! Did I even tell that story in detail on here? Probably not, I was trying to keep Beki from hating me for it.

I want to have more funny stories than sad stories to tell people. I want to make the painful stories funny because pain can last much longer than it should if you don't find something funny about it and really, when you get hurt physically it's usually caused by some sort of stupidity, right? I want to focus more on the stupidity than the actual pain but miming out the actual pain can be so funny too... That's how I tell my stories atleast. Facial expressions and flailing hands.

I think that's where my spice comes from. Being able to laugh at myself and at other people,

"Sure it must have hurt like hell but did you see how your legs buckled right under you as you skited down the path?! I couldn't have done that if I'd tried!" *high 5*

I think my mum is the one who taught me to laugh at myself because whenever I'd get hurt she'd laugh but not all the time (I can practically hear you denying that right now mum!).

The time I'm thinking about was one night we decided to go down to the Spar (convenience store usually plonked in the middle of a neighbourhood) for whatever reason. I don't remember doing that any other time. Anyway, it was dark and cold outside. As we were going down the cycle path (no, not that one) and mum spots a random patch of ice under a street lamp which we're aproaching. To be honest it looked like someone had poured water out to make it into ice. My guess is it was the gang of hoolies sitting on the wall right across from it with the empty bucket. Just a guess though.

I'm walking to the outside of it to protect my poor, old, delicate mother of course. I step on the ice and take a step but not really because I might have actually been having a cartoon run at that moment. My feet were moving but I was going nowhere, you know the kind. I drop like a ton of bricks. The spotlight is on me, the one flopping about on the ground like a fish. And it was actually a spotlight, that wasn't for dramatic effect, I was right under a street light. I look up at my mum expecting to see her hand out reached to me but no, she's doubled over laughing. Ruuuude! I stand up and try to take a step and clatter to the ground again. Everyone enjoying the show, my mum *really* enjoying it. Still no hand. I try again and fall again. Then finally upsadaisy! and we walk away. My mum weeping with laughter and me with a chipped bone in my nosepicking finger on my left hand.

We walked the back way home.

But it's ok that she found it hilarious because I laughed at her the two times she sprayed Deep Heat under her arms instead of deodorant AND lets not forget the good old story of Hickie Lips!

Hickie Lips... now there's a cracker!

Once upon a time there was a Queen who doted -and still does given the chance- on her little Prince. The little Prince was only one year old at the time and already had everyone under his spell. Especially his grandparents, the King and Queen.

On this particular evening the Queen had fed him a delicious little pot of yoghurt and was now entertaining the little man by ever so gracefully sucking the empty yoghurt vessel to her face. Hilarity was had all round by young and old alike. It only grew funnier as the little Prince would enter a war with is grandmother as he tried to pull the pot from her face as she sucked it harder to prevent removal. The game lasted a while until the Queen had to remove herself to prepare for another engagement she had that night.

As she entered the lavatory she let out a yelp catching a glimpse at herself in the mirror. Her royal highness had been having such a royal hoot with the little man that she had forgotten the science behind the game. The removal of the sucked on cup had left her with two ginormously bruised lips and some very entertained family members - and stake members too.


I need to write down more stories. That is where my spice is.

11 comments:

Beth Adams said...

I love it Laura!! I too look forward to reading your blog. It is wildly entertaining. Thanks for bringing a smile!

emma said...

um.. that reminds me too of the time dad stuck the kids sucky cup play toy to his big bald head... hee hee..

Megan Marie said...

"To communicate effectively to each other what is in our hearts and minds, we must make the abstract concrete. We must transform experience and belief into narrative. It would follow then, that to know each other's hearts and minds, we must know each other's stories." -Bert Wilson

Your spice is in your stories, because your stories are an expression of who you are. You have a spicy heart and a spicy mind.

Scott and Stacia said...

Laura I think you are so funny! Honestly, where do you come up with some of this stuff?? and your detail! You have a talent girl! Hope you have many more good days!!

Lawther family said...

I love megan's comment. It is so true. I wish that I could put into words what I am feeling. My blog lacks that because I just can't express my mind well when I write. You have a great talent and you are one hot spicy lady! Love ya

Manda said...

I love LOVE reading your stories. I wish I was as good a storyteller as you. My blog would be much more interesting! I can't wait to read more. (And I want to hear about the wedding prayer!) Keep on being spicy! :D

emma said...

Laura is... a korma?! x

Mark and Hilary said...

spicy indeed! you always make me laugh!

Laura said...

Megan: That quote is perfect. I love it.

Stacia: How do I come up with it? They're real! I don't think I could come up with it if it didn't happen.

Manda: The wedding prayer isn't one of my finer moments but it is really funny.

Emma: I do love a Korma but I don't want to be one. I want to be a VINDALOO!

Melinda said...

I think you are a talented writer. I enjoy the honesty in your writing, and I think that is part of your spice. I not only hear what you are saying and see it clearly in my minds eye, I feel it too. Your stories are like nummy snickerdoodles as opposed to dry pieces of cardboard. Spicy sugar-grenade.

abritdifferent said...

You know, sometimes the 'depressing' stuff doesn't how you'd think it would. I like all sides of Laura. We do need to catch up soon.