When Laughter Gets Bothersome
By Jake
I quote a really retarded song from one of my favorite bands, Beefcake.
"I am a funny guy a funny guy is what I be.
I am a funny guy, nobody is funnier than me.
It's my job to make you piss your pants."
Throughout high school, I have blossomed into a class clown. This was probably due to my
lack of receiving attention from most others. I figured that hey, if I made lots of friends
by making fun of my penis, then maybe girls would want to try and be my friend, thus throwing
me into the circle and eventually scoring a victory into the dating pool. They could then
see that I wasn't the class clown type that they knew, but rather a Southern charm raised up
with the intentions of good manners and treating the opposite sex like the queens that they
deserve to be.
This plan worked...well, almost worked. Sure, I developed a whole new group of buddies, but
the girl situation always looked bleaker and bleaker. It felt like I was SO CLOSE, yet further
away. But, the daily routine of doing impersonations of homosexuals and rap singers prolonged,
and I was satisfied by putting smiles on people's faces. The ones who truly knew who I was
and who had been given the opportunity to read my lyrics (which at the time were VERY private)
were happy with my masquerade of retardedness.
We take you now to present day. Playful flirting and calling others "dorkface" with a smile
soon takes its toll on girls who just aren't having the best of days.
A few girls in my circle have taken it upon themselves to steal the little toys I bring to
school to amuse myself with. These have been as follows: a string, a ray-gun keychain, and
a Chris Jericho bendable action figure I bought at Family Dollar, as well as various other
odds and ends. These, along with my heart on occasion, have been kidnapped of sorts by these
girls, and both my favorite string and ray-gun still have yet to grace themselves with my presence as this is written. I know it sounds extremely cheesy and lame, but bear with me, it does have a point to it.
Lange. The stuff from the past is definitely behind me, and although I wished things would have worked out the way I had hoped, I still find her as a friend. She is the one who right now has my gun and my string in her room somewhere. I am always the one to joke around with her in class, but if she is having a bad day and doesn't feel like joking around, then she can let me know with a very very cold look.
I HATE that look. It makes me feel so awful. Like I have killed someone's pet intentionally
or something like that. Usually I will gravely apologize, and everything will be right again.
But, there was one occasion that I almost wanted to break down and cry.
The day had already been sub-par. She had lost her book that she needed for a report. While
I don't know if she was telling the truth that she wasn't accusing me of taking it, the look
she gave me when she said, "I want it back NOW" was enough to make me get that awful feeling. Although I tried to explain that I didn't have it and didn't know who did, she still seemed
to disbelieve me.
The class clown curse, gentlemen. You joke too much, then sometimes the one that went too
far will come back to haunt you.
I offered to help her look for the book. She finally found it... she had left it in her previous
class. She immediately was apologetic, but that didn't matter. The damage had been done... I
had been blamed, and I felt like complete and utter shit.
Guys will be able to sympathize with me on this one. Girls have an incredibly evil power
to make others feel like crap, and they can employ this on even the best of days. This, I
believe, is brought on by Satan, who I still think to this day is actually a whip-wielding
leather clad dominatrix. If you screw up... if you say the wrong thing to that girl in the
corner... if you go on and on about how stupid they act at times... if you slip up and do something even slightly wrong, they will make that backlash hurt HARD. They will make it hurt in the place that it hurts the most... your heart.
Sure, guys may have this power. But I feel like the ones reading this really don't possess
that. Even if we are the instigators of a girl's misery for a brief moment, we'll cave and
get down on our knees... begging forgiveness. If the girls ever read these rants that I write,
and are offended by what I have to say, then you can bet your ass that I will be pleading like
a little bitch to forgive me.
I'm whipped. And there doesn't seem to be a way out of it.
CD player, I hope you're ready. Saves The Day is about to grace your presence.
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