Let me tell you a thing about sarcasm

**strong language**

I’m an extremely sarcastic person in real life. The problem is, these days people just don’t understand sarcasm. Maybe I’m just so good at using it that I’ve achieved a new level of sarcasm that nobody can understand. I can’t just come out and say, “Hey, I’m not being serious right, but I’m gonna give you little nod to let you know I’m still here.”

But let’s say that I did. Let’s say I’m having a nice little conversation with you about the weather and you say something so ridiculous like, “Wow, that cloud is shaped like a zebra pushing a stroller.” I would be inclined to say, “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, it obviously has no shape. And even if I were to use my imagination, it’s definitely a horse with a little hat.” But this is unrealistic and, let’s be honest, quite rude. In reality, a partaker in the art of sarcasm would reply, “Yes, and that cloud looks like a lion. Lions eat zebras.” And then I would glare at you from the corners of my eyes, which all the kids are calling a side-eye now. I pulled that shit out of my bum, I should have been a comedian.

The fact of it is, everyone gets a little sarcastic every once in a while, but my sarcasm is witty. It’s cleverly placed, thought out, and verbalized. Whether you get it or not is not my problem. One the other hand, I don’t want you thinking that I’m a bad person. I’m not. I’m actually the timidest person you will ever meet. Even a deaf person is more talkative than me.

I use my sarcasm as a mask because the truth of it is, I hate talking to people. I don’t hate people, I just hate talking to people. You catch my drift? If you’re like me, then let’s hide behind this mask together. You see, we are so advanced in sarcasm that no one understands us, and when they do, they think that we’re just being rude. Fuck that. We’re just not socially conditioned to “what’s up?” as most people are. Big smiles if you’re one of the funny ones who reply, “the sky.”

A few years ago, I was sitting in a pizza parlor with a few of my, at the time, friends. We were eating pepperoni, in case you were wondering. Classic. My friends were talking about something boring, so I whipped out my phone and logged onto Twitter. I typed up a quick, “When your friend starts talking about boring shit: is it time for your medication, or mine?”

I got interrupted mid-tweet, and it never got sent. Can I get some pity points? That would have been a great tweet, and it was never sent out into the world to become mainstream. My friends started talking about the boy they saw on the bus who they were “like totally crushing on.” I took another piece of pizza to distract myself and cut myself out of the conversation. Who wants to talk to someone with a mouthful of pepperoni pizza?

But I forgot that my friends weren’t ordinary people, they were like aliens who thought it was completely fine to talk with food in the mouth. To be honest, they were pretty cool friends. I had completely clocked myself out the conversation until they called out my name. “So, what do you think?”  A simple question with a complicated answer. This question obviously need some thinking on my part, but my single since birth ass didn’t have a say in romance, so I said: “Is he a pizza?” I had pizza on the mind.

Every human on Earth has some sort of obsession with pizza. With that one question, I knew that was the right one to ask. It’s basically asking whether you would choose the bro over the pizza. If you’d rather eat the pizza than eat the bro, then the answer is simple. I don’t know why it’s so hard. Girls and their feelings, me and my pizza. Maybe that’s why I’ve been single for so long. I should change the scale to burgers, pizza is too high of an expectation.

I had been living with these friends for a while now, so they knew how my mind worked. She gave her little nose a tweak and pondered on the question. “You know what, you’re right. He’s not pizza enough.” I’ve made a breakthrough! Of course, this theory would prove to be ineffective for this friend of mine, since she started going out with the guy a few weeks later. Turns out, I had an 8 AM class with him. Yeah, way better than a pizza.

I developed this weird jealousy that made me more sarcastic than ever. The boy from class would come over to the apartment every so often and try to make conversation with me. It’s really awkward when you get to know someone in the same class on a personal level. Do you talk class with them, or what? I heard the couple talking in the back room one time and I overheard him say, “Is your roommate alright with us dating?” to which my friend replied, “She’s fine, she’s just like that. You say something to her and she reaches into her grab bag and throws whatever she finds back at you.” I’m a grab bag? Such high praise! Honestly, I can’t think of anything more descriptive.

And now I am the eternal grab bag. The never ending bag from Marry Poppins or Harry Potter. You never know what I’m going to say next. My mouth has a separate mind from my physical mind. Sometimes it is so philosophical, Socrates would be blown away, and sometimes it’s so dumb I might as well be drunk. On a side note, I’ve never been drunk, so if I seem drunk, there is no explanation.

One of my not so proudest moments came to me after I developed a crush on a guy on the swim team. He was a teammate, right, so I saw a lot of him. I do mean a lot of him. He was shirtless 90% of the time I was around him. I did mention this was swimming, right? Anyway… We had this swim meet up in Spokane, which, as fun as it was, was a complete downer. After the swim meet, the whole team went to this rad laser tag place on the edge of town. The building was shaped to look like a castle and the inside was like a Tudor style castle.

Now, the thing about laser tag that is extremely important is alliances. Wouldn’t you know it, said hottie with a swimmers body picked me…and my friend. But that didn’t matter because he could have picked his best friend, but he picked me…and my friend. He asked with his laser gun up for protection, “You want to form an alliance?” Boy, I felt like the heroine being held at gunpoint by a hot military guy who will become my prince in the end. My mind instantly went haywire, leading me to say, “Take me to the castle, make me your queen!” I don’t know if he heard it or if he was just trying to play it cool, but we went on with our alliance and took out the enemy.

Said hottie with a swimmers body approached me after the game. I knew he was going to bring up what I said inside, so I quickly inserted something equally as embarrassing: “Don’t bother me. I’m living in my happily ever after.” Looking back now, I truly am glad I told him to get lost. Turns out he only wanted an alliance with my friend, but we came as a packaged set and you couldn’t have one without the other. Those two had some pretty heavy drama of their own, but that’s beside the point.

My most evil moment was when Katie’s sister dropped out of beauty school (yeah, that actually happens). She came back to the house kinda drunk kinda not but physically wasted. Katie questioned her and she cried and cried. Katie and I went into the kitchen and she explained the whole situation to me. “Well, with beauty, either you got it or you don’t. Your sister definitely has something, but whatever it is, beauty school did not want it.”

This whole time I had a song going through my head. My inner Broadway diva was on full throttle and in my mind, I was belting my heart out. Yeah, you know the song.

Beauty school drop out, no graduation day for you

Beauty school drop out, missed your midterms and flunked shampoo

It was a dream come true really. I’ve always wanted to be in a musical. But my shining moment came about halfway through the song, or at least halfway through the song in my head. You know the part.

Well they couldn’t teach you anything. You think you’re such a looker.

But no customer would go to you unless she was a hooker.

I felt pretty confident with my singing skills at the moment. I felt so bad. Katie and her sister were staring at me like I was a lunatic. I shrugged and said, “Look, I know that was rude, but I’m a star, you gotta let me shine.” They didn’t take too well to the comment. “Once a critic, always an asshole.” Katie’s sister was just about ready to jump me, but Katie held her back, explaining that this was how I was. I wasn’t trying to make fun of her, it was just the first thing that came out of my mouth. It’s no wonder why I hate talking to people.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s