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Tag Archives: comedy

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You are an Electrical Engineer: You now know how to strip the protective sheath around wires if they don’t have plugs and create your own plug, and you no longer get electrocuted when you stick it in the wall!

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You are a Doctor: As a nurse, you used to get frustrated with those doctors that just wouldn’t let their patients go when it was time to go. Well, now you understand. A dead fan can always be fixed if you have medical tape.

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You are a Procrastinator: Laundry or hammocks? Laundry or hammocks? It really is a very easy decision.

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You are a Gardner: You have successfully bought, planted (let’s be honest here. Someone helped you…a lot), and are tending things that are growing and edible. Now, if only you could remember which plants are weeds and which ones are food. Lessons learned: Next time use plant markers, and seeds need to be more spread out if you expect anything to grow underneath (Although, the greenery on top looks nice right?)

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You are a Contemporary Artist: You almost broke your leg trying to move the old giant washboard for the pila someone decided to dump in your yard, but then realized because of the experience of being pinned to the ground by this massive slab of cement, that it was really an artistic representation of power and strength and would be a great modern art piece in your garden. If you had not almost had your leg broken by this amazing piece of art, you would have never realized its true potential to inspire the soul.

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You are a Foster Parent: You always have dog food and water available for dogs who need a home. They are just so cute and cuddly. How could you resist?

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You are a Garbage Collector: You now finally realize what your neighbors have been trying to tell you all along; your true potential lies in garbage collecting. If only you had caught on sooner, you wouldn’t have gotten so grumpy every time your neighbors put their trash in your yard and you went around picking it up. Who knew that you were learning to embrace your life’s calling?

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You are a Productivity Manager: You now know that having two bottles for water exchanges, you can wait until both are empty before exchanging for new bottles of water. This gives you more time and energy to complete other tasks. Also, someone usually offers to carry one or both of the bottles more often than they did with one. One less trip each week and a lot less unnecessary weight lifting. Awesome!

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You are an Environmentally Friendly Security Specialist: You know that keeping your home free from burglars can be done cheaply and sustainably. Because of your innovative thinking, you now realize you can turn trash into highly effective weapons to improve the safety and security of your home.

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You are a Survivor: Although the “widow-maker” has tried to kill you many times, you are resilient, and the times you have been electrocuted have only made you stronger.

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You are a Mighty Warrior: You have battled the ice monster and won. You keep the stick around just to remind it who’s boss and keep it in line. For those fighting their own battles againstĀ these formidable beasts, wood has been found to be more efficient than knives. In fact, I STRONGLY ADVISE not using knives to avoid unnecessary losses. Wooden sticks. That’s where it’s at. Trust me.

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You are an Undercover Investigator: You are investigating “Peeping Tom” occurrences in Honduras. You came upon an interesting finding when you had the fence repaired in your back yard thinking it would be a kindness to your neighbor for who the fence belonged. But only a couple days later the board and its nails were again ripped away which seemed very unlikely done by accident. This is a major finding in the investigation as the open slot provides a convenient passage of entry for someone who might want to look into your window. Now you can narrow down the suspects to the neighbors next door.

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You are a Tourist Advisor for Honduras: Two most important do nots are DO NOT drink the water and DO NOT put toilet paper in the toilet! It goes in the garbage can! Please and thank you.

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You are a Water Conservationist: After living two weeks without water readily available, you are now determined to save every single drop. Next professional goal: Become a Plumber so you can fix the leaky faucet.

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The ocean is where I feel most in touch with my true being, and it is here on the fringe of New York I begin to say good-bye to the USA and hello to Ireland across the sea. New York was more amazing than I could have imagined. From the top of the Empire state building, I felt like Thomas and I were saying, “Okay world, we’re ready for you.” I am interested to see where we both end up next year. Life is a big question mark, and embracing that is a lovely thing. By being open to anything, we will both end up on adventures more life-changing than anything we could have planned for. Jay Z and Alicia Keys’ “Empire State of Mind” is on the radio as we drive back through Brooklyn and I feel nothing could be more appropriate. I contemplate the week…Comedy Cellar surprise guest Louis CK, Belmont Raceway horse betting, Don’t Tell Mama piano bar spontaneous birthday, transport to China in Flushings, reflections at Far Rockway Beach, best pisco drink at Pegu Club, memorable blues dance with stranger in a speak easy behind a tile shop, thai lunch with old friend, running not away or towards…just running, NY hipster comparison to Portland (I think Portland has NY beat as far as this scene goes), graffiti art inspiration, sleepy car ride dreams of NY lights, karaoke dancing with cop while trying to be gangster…life is good.

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At the Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn, NY after red-eye flight

New York is a buzzing sea of endless possibility. The phrase, “Go big or go home,” comes to mind. Potential is not enough here. People live, eat, breathe their dreams. There is no lying around in bed wondering what could be. These swarms of ant-like humans suffuse themselves in dreams bigger than reality; the impossible seems possible. The power behind the complete commitment and purpose is intoxicating. I want to be part of this organized madness.

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Arriving in New York on September 11th by red-eye flight has not made for the most relaxing trip. What would it be like to die on a plane, boxed so high above the ground, no place to go? I feel claustrophobic, scrunched between two men, one larger, stuffing Reese’s peanut butter cups in his mouth and drinking corn syrup out of can, a constant crinkling as he digs into his potato chip bag, the other younger, stretching out for a nap, eyes already closed. I do not sleep.

As I get off the plane, I feel a sense of freedom and relief. Gratitude washes away much of the grimy feeling typical of being in a space with stale air and limited moving room. I am in New York, I am jobless, I am free. My dream has turned into reality, no longer buried in a dusty box of memories.

My first New Yorker encounter is a taxi driver who does not give me a fluffed up description of New York. But this honesty is what I value most in people. It is spoken from the heart, not marred by the thinking brain. I feel lucky he is willing to share with me, but perhaps this is just the New York way. When I ask him what he loves about New York, he tells me that his home is in Pakistan, not here. That is where he longs to be, with his son, his mother. He does not miss his wife. His mother and child are his blood. He works in New York for them. When I ask about his son, he tells me of his own father dying when he was young and how this has been hard on his mother. He left his own son some years ago, now only visible to him by Skype, to work until he can return with enough money to buy land and provide a better life for his family. He does not want his son to suffer as he has. He is an educated man, an accountant, but his Visa was not renewed a couple years ago, so he works as a taxi driver. It is still more money than what he would make back home. He doesn’t want to experience the city that never sleeps. His family is more important. New York bores him. Several times, he has taken passengers to Times Square. He has no desire to go himself. He must come to the airport two hours early and wait in line to make the day worth his while because of the huge fees to work there. I am his first customer at 5:45am. Here illegally, he will be deported some day. He shrugs as though this is a joke and responds, “At least the ticket home will be free.” He will turn himself in when he has finally made enough money for his family; he hopes only five more years. His son will be eleven then. As he drops me off in Brooklyn, I wish him well. He smiles at me and says thank you for talking to him. I am a nice change from the men in black suits yelling into their phones. Looking at him one last time, I imagine the day he returns to his family.

Brooklyn is a mesh of color. I feel out of place with my pasty skin. I am the minority here. Seeing my friend in his apartment makes me happy. It has been his dream to be here; he told me the first day we met eight years ago. I know he will do well here. His apartment is cozy, flatmates unique and interesting. Although I have not slept for twenty-four hours, I am hungry, and we eat in a diner that reminds me of an episode from Seinfeld. I want to see the sun, and so we walk to Prospect park and soak in the vitamin D. How can one sleep during the day when there is so much to experience, and I am here only a week?

My friend has a class tonight, so I wander around East Village alone and happen upon some comedy and good company. One of the comedians, who interacted with me during his bit, takes me out for coffee after the show and puffs up my ego, encouraging me to delve more into my creative side. “If I were an agent, I would book you,” he says. “You have charisma! People want to be around you! Go for your dreams! If not now, when?” The compliments are endless. He pays for my coffee, leaves me a list of comedy hot spots, and tells me to go after my dreams of being a writer and throws in a few more nudges to do something on stage. I sit in the coffee shop speechless and beaming several minutes after he has gone; I feel like a million bucks, andĀ I hear Frank Sinatra singing in my head “New York, New York.”

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“Start spreading the news
I am leaving today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York

These vagabond shoes
They are longing to stray
Right through the very heart of it
New York, New York

I want to wake up in that city
That doesn’t sleep
And find I’m king of the hill
Top of the heap

My little town blues
They are melting away
I gonna make a brand new start of it
In old New York

If I can make it there
I’ll make it anywhere
It’s up to you
New York, New York

New York, New York
I want to wake up in that city
That never sleeps
And find I’m king of the hill
Top of the list
Head of the heap
King of the hill

These are little town blues
They have all melted away
I am about to make a brand new start of it
Right there in old New York

And you bet [Incomprehensible] baby
If I can make it there
You know, I’m gonna make it just about anywhere
Come on, come through
New York, New York, New York”

“New York, New York”-Frank Sinatra

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