Human Tornado Siren

Stop laughing.

I don't want to come across as a party-pooper. Really, I don't. But your laugh is incredibly annoying. I wouldn't even call it a laugh, but a yell with vibrato. How in the world do you do that? You must have a diaphragm the size of a car tire in order for you to project the kind of sounds you do from your throat.

Yeah, what you saw on tv was pretty darn funny. But I'm sitting right next to you and blood is coming from my ears. And are you trying to hold it out as long as you possibly can? Do you have music in your head and you are just laughing for a full measure straight? Keep it to a 32nd note, please. In a very fast tempo. This is irritating.

Another thing: If you are going to do your trademark laugh, normally people will give a little warning sound. And I emphasize the word "little". Perhaps it could be a slight giggle or some quicker shallow breathing. But for you to hyperventilate for what seems an eternity and then unexpectedly (and terrifyingly) blast sound out of your mouth as though you were imitating a Gilbert Gottfried impersonation of a tornado siren....that's not cool. It scares me.

Just please, stop.

Is This What It's Like?

When I was a kid, I did not like boys….AT ALL. Boys were gross. Boys had cooties. If you kissed a boy, you got warts. I imagine that most girls believed this. I would rather have been a tomboy and play with the boys in the dirt and mud and worms than kiss one! However, this did not stifle my 2nd grade “marriage” to a boy named Chris Schalz. It happened on the baseball field. All my friends were there and threw mulberry leaves filled with sand in celebration. But Mr. Schalz was a player. The very next day I saw him smooching with the local 1st grade tramp named Nicole. Everyone knew she was an easy catch. Our marriage went down in flames. I became an 8-year old Elizabeth Taylor and spent the next 2 years traversing the playgrounds, finding solace only in a plutonic friendship with a boy nicknamed “Pickle Juice” and the seagulls who would gather in the grassy field right in front of where I swapped my innocent vows with Mr. Loose Lips.

My aversion to all things “boys” went well into my teen years and some of my college years, too.

“No, I do not want to dance with you.”

“No, I am not going to the prom.”

“I am never going to be married.”

“I am woman, hear me roar!”

“Yes, I am engaged…his name is Simon. No, you don’t know him.” (I had worn a ring on my all-important finger in order to convince someone who was interested in me that I was not available, when in fact, I was).

I had so convinced my family that I was never going to marry a man that they naturally assumed that I was a lesbian. One day, out of the blue, my mom came into my room and said, “You know, Ellie, if you are a lesbian, it doesn’t matter to me. I will love you all the same.” I responded by dropping my jaw to the floor in surprise and yelling, “I’M NOT A LESBIAN! YES, I’M SURE!”. Of course, I wasn’t a lesbian, but technically I was not interested in men either. I was attracted not to any gender, but to the idea that I would grow up without a partner and would be thrilled about it! Don’t let anyone convince you that cynicism does not have incredible power over your dreams and goals!

However, over the past few years I have had an urge to find that special someone to spend the rest of my life with. I talked about it with friends (which felt very strange, almost alien), went on dating websites, and even went on an impromptu date with someone I met in a grocery store (On a side note, I wouldn’t recommend that. But that’s another story altogether.). After a recent move, I let up on the searching for a date bit but then decided this past January to give it another go. On the very first day, someone contacted me to express his interest in me. I thought, “What in the world? Have you even seen my picture? Why would you want me?” See, that’s how powerful cynicism is. It can come back to haunt you and corrupt you even after you swear to never think in those negative ways ever again.

But this online guy and I started to e-mail each other. Every night. Then our e-mails turned into MSN chats. For hours. Then our paths crossed in person! And I tell you this as someone who has converted from the religion of cynicism and self-loathing to believing fully in the following anonymous quote:

"Love - a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker"

I’ve come to the following conclusion. My boy is great! My boy does not have cooties (and if he did, it wouldn’t matter ONE BIT)! When I kissed this boy I received no warts, only a kiss back. And I would trade in all my years of being a tomboy and playing in the dirt and mud and worms for one more day with him. And I should clarify that I’m not actually kissing a boy, but a man of my own age (25). Haha. Please do not send the feds after me, this relationship is fully legal!
Is this what love is like? Please tell me, because I have not experienced anything quite like this before. Instead of reciting the quotes I listed out earlier, I can’t wait to say the following to him and only him:

“Yes, I will dance with you.”

“Yes, I would love to go to your company Christmas party with you.”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

“I am your woman! (No roaring involved)”

I can only hope that this feeling lasts forever with this boy.

"Nunc scio quit sit amor." Latin, "Now I know what love is." by Virgil (Classical Roman Poet)