The Pursuit of Happiness. Where do you think you're going? GET BACK HERE HAPPINESS.

I was informed recently that someone is no longer going to read my blog because “you’re so angry.” At first, this was kind of sad, and I thought, probably I should start posting rainbow unicorn kitten toddlers or whatever it is that society deems “cheerful.”

This came up when I Googled “pictures of something cheerful.” This is a PHOTO FAIL. No one wants cupcakes or cookies like this. Why would you do this to cake? Cake means no one any harm. Cake is your friend. Cake just wants to love you! Well, I suppose if you ate scads of cake, you would get fat, but that’s not cake’s fault, that’s your own fault, don’t go blaming cake for that. Cake doesn’t want to be turned into something evil like this! Mean! This is just mean! And full of trickery! Like, you’d say to someone, “hey, want some cake?” And they’d be so excited! Cake! And then you’d give them this? No. That’s a betrayal. The worst kind, too. A dessert betrayal. You don’t just bounce back from one of those.

First, let me just address one thing. If you think every single thing I say on here is completely true, well, that’s so nice! And how do you manage to make it through every single day without falling victim to various tricks and traps that the world has set for you? I don’t know that anyone, anywhere, is 100% truthful on their blogs. There are things I leave out, because listen, I don’t think most of you are looking for a trail of breadcrumbs so you can find my place and be waiting for me one night under my bed with a straightrazor? But who knows, really. So I’m not giving you directions to where I live, you know? Similarly, I’m not using people’s real names, because that’s rude and I can’t afford any sort of lawsuit. And, finally – and take a deep breath, because this one’s going to hurt – are you ready? Really? Are you sure?

Sometimes I exaggerate for effect.

I know. I’m sorry. Did I just blow you mind a little? Here’s the thing. One of the things I hate most in the world is being bored. Therefore, I assume you hate that, as well. Be honest: if you had a choice between a blog entry starting with one of these two sentences, which would you choose?

“I was driving home from work today and I saw they’d started construction on the new police barracks”

OR

“I was driving home from work today and I saw they’d started construction on the new police barracks, which made me wonder if my drive home from work was going to be fraught with po-po on every corner from now on, and listen, sometimes I’m not on my A-game on my drive home from work, and I’m a little distracted what with being sprung from the fifth circle of Hell, and awesome after-work tunes on the radio, so I’m bopping along in my sauna of a car that’s been sitting in the sun all day looking like a deranged sweaty escaped lunatic, so probably I’ll be writing this from jail once the barracks is completed, please send cigarettes and stamps.”

I guess some of you might choose the first sentence, although I do have to wonder why those people are reading my blog, because there aren’t too many sentences as straight-forward as that here. The second sentence (despite being a run-on – yes, I know it’s a run-on, I majored in English, thank you very much, it’s a run-on for dramatic effect, that’s a thing, it’s allowed) is more fun. And it’s more me. I go off on tangents. Sometimes they’re angry tangents. Am I really as angry as I’m portraying? Well, yes, sometimes I am, I suppose. But sometimes it’s funnier to say “I wanted to use my ninja skillzzz to punch him in the neck” as opposed to “he mildly perturbed me.” So listen. Not to send my meeeeeellions of readers off in a tizzy of “liar liar,” here, but I exaggerate. ‘Tis true. And I’m pretty sure you’ll find most of the humorous blogs you read do the same thing. Because as much as we wish a clown car of awesome would unload blog content in front of us on a daily basis, it just doesn’t happen. (NOT REAL CLOWNS. METAPHOR CLOWNS. UGH.)  Sometimes? You have to use your brain and come up with some of your own.

But! Out of respect for those of you (if there are any still here, I suppose) who are upset I am too “angry,” I went to a very nice website today called 1000 Awesome Things. You know it is nice because there is a pretty landscape photo on the top. These are things that make people happy! And so I thought we could discuss them! Won’t that be nice? I TOTALLY CAN BE NICE. AND ALSO HAPPY.

#995 Finding money you didn’t even know you lost. OK! This is a nice way to start out. This makes me happy. This often happens to me when I put on a winter coat for the first time when it’s started to get cold out again in the fall. I’ll pop my hands in the pockets and bam! I find a dollar bill, or something. That’s nice! A nice, happy thing.

#964 The day when you first realize you can drive. Happy! Although I was given permission to drive before I could actually do so in a safe fashion. I obtained my driver’s license through trickery. I failed the first time, because I cannot parallel park. Also because the guy giving me my test was an ass and mean and took points off because I drove too slowly in a 30 MPH zone. I drove 28 in a 30 and he was so up-in-arms about that. Seriously? I would think that driving slowly and cautiously though an AREA where CHILDREN ARE is a GOOD THING. So the next time I went back, I wore a very low-cut top and a mini-skirt and I giggled a lot and had a different test proctor and I bent forward a lot so he got a good look at the girls and poof, I passed. Sure, this is not something a person should technically be proud of? But I got my license. There’s no rule on the books that says you can’t use all of your assets to your full advantage when you’re a nubile 17-year-old. (Side note – I still can’t parallel park. I will seriously park a mile away from where I need to be and walk rather than even try to parallel park. I have depth perception issues. But you know what I rock? Three-point turns. Bam! ONE! TWO! THREE! Awesome at them.)

#841 When the categories on Jeopardy are right in your wheelhouse. I love this. This is the best. My favorite is when there are, right in a row, categories like “Broadway Musicals,” “Horror Novels,” “State Capitals,” “Commonly Misspelled Words,” “Pork Products,” and “Saturday Night Live Actors.” Because this I can do. Not a sports or history or date category in the bunch. I’ve GOT this. An addendum to this: this is even better when you happen to be watching it with people who don’t know you very well. You look BRILLIANT. They look at you like you are a GOLDEN GODDESS. (Side note: I will, one day, be on Jeopardy. I’ve auditioned three times, once in person, twice online. And dammit, I’m not going to die without having the chance to face down Trebek. I refuse.)

#828 Remembering what movie that guy is from. I’m excellent at this. Even better, I’m excellent at it with very little info. I delighted my coworker the other day when she said, “That guy! You know. The one? With the scar. Who I like? Adventurous.” And I said, without hesitating, even though we’d never discussed him, “Harrison Ford.” I like figuring it out, and I like helping others do the same.

#709 Waking up to the smell of sizzling bacon. There is nothing that is not perfect about this. NOTHING. You know what would make it more perfect? If you didn’t have to get out of bed to eat it, and if your current flame brought it to you while you were still all comfy-cozy under the covers. Bacon & blankets & boyfriend. And then maybe some boning, because let’s be honest, bacon in bed is a total aphrodisiac. Yes, please.

#691 When you flip to a radio station just as a song you love is starting. Coincidentally, this happened just last night when I was driving home. For some reason, my favorite radio station during the day turns into crazytown at night. Like, experimental jazz, and one time, some song about candy bars that was dirty, like “I put my Baby Ruth into her Kit Kat and she said Oh, Henry.” I can’t listen to that without wanting a shower or to gouge my eardrums out with paperclips, so I flip around aimlessly on my drive home when I’m out at night. Sometimes I find Delilah. I like Delilah because her callers are sad sacks and she is clueless to their needs. “I have 14 kids and we live in a shack and have no running water, can you play something for me, Delilah?” and then Delilah will play “Groovy Kind of Love” for no apparent reason. But last night, the retro station, when I flipped there, was playing the New Kids on the Block’s “Hangin’ Tough.” And you bet your ASS I turned that up and rocked out. I know ALL of the lyrics to that. My first concert was the New Kids. Before that NKoTB crap, too. With my first real boyfriend. I know! Totally romantic. Until he broke up with me just before Valentine’s Day because he thought one of my best friends was interested in him and then she wasn’t but we were still broken up and that kind of sucked but was best in the long run because that growth spurt I always was hoping he’d have? Didn’t. He’s still like 5’4 and I’m pretty sure that you don’t get a growth spurt when you’re in your mid-thirties. This story wasn’t really going anywhere so if you’re hanging on for some moral or something, you’re kind of out of luck. “Don’t cross our path ‘cause you’re GONNA get STOMPED!”

#412 The air just before a thunderstorm. I’m 99% sure, in another life, I was someone who worked outdoors, because I am like a barometer, and I just come alive when there’s about to be a storm. When I lived out west, the best thing ever was monsoon season. Sideways rain. The sky turned maroon and mauve and orange and pink and purple. The air was just charged with electricity and excitement. And it smelled so goddamn good you just wanted to go outside and eat it all up.

#366 Little kids showing you their muscles. A kid I knew once came up to me and asked me, in perfect seriousness, if I had purchased tickets to the gun show. (Shut up if you know where this is going. I didn’t at the time.) I of course said, “What gun show?” And he made a muscle and said, “This gun show! You’re gonna need a ticket to look at THESE guns!” I laughed so hard I snorted. Yes, it’s kind of dumb. But that kid SOLD it. Props, kiddo.

#328 The smell of a library. If they could bottle this (minus, I suppose, the sweaty smell of some of the people standing in line sometimes – please, please, deodorant? It’s not too much to ask, and there are coupons, often. Here! I will give you one. It is MY PLEASURE!) I would wear it like perfume on a regular basis. Old paper and history. That is the smell of the library.

And I’m adding one of my own – sorry, list, but if you think “All of the things that come out of a pig” and “Pain” are things that are awesome, and this isn’t on there, well, maybe you’re not as awesome as you think you are? Hmm? Think on that awhile!

#Eleventy-oneth: The feeling in the pit of your stomach right before a show you’ve worked on starts. You put a lot of time into it; you know it’s good; now it’s time to share it with people. It’s a completely indescribable feeling. It’s a little like the butterflies you get when you realize you’re falling in love and a little like the nausea you get when you’re about to move to a new town where you don’t know anyone but you know it’s the best thing you can do.

There. SEE? I am not completely and totally filled with hatred. Also? I really, really like cheese. Almost all types of cheese. And office supplies, especially pencils. And snapdragons. And how my nephew says my name, now that he relates my name as an abstract to me as a person. And you! And you, blog reader. I totally dig you. Except if you’re annoying, or one of those people who has no respect for personal space? Then we’re through.