You Make Me Laugh

In a thank-you card that Robin sent me, for my birthday gift to her, a colorful bracelet, only her type can pull off as wearing, she said: This friendship meant so much to me. You always make me laugh.

That sentence fills my heart with tendenness and a little proud, like I am being minted, as a good comdian.

Robin is leaving in a week to start her three-country journalist study for the next 2 years. She left an advertising account job that she hated. We (I) drank heartily when she resigned-one glass of wine will kill her.

I said: glad you are out. Wish I am too.

She has made me laugh, we were girls in pain, but we were also funny and smart. We do not have same taste in guys--inspite that there is no proof for that, since we never did a test and I do like her current boyfriend, obtained in the total Harry Met Sally fashion, but we made each other laugh.

From persepctive of laughing matters, besides all the heart to heart that turned the teary me into smily faces, she introduced me to the hilarious film Euro trip, good Soccer writting, and Flights of Conchords, Brett and Jamine, who are simply brillant. I suscribed to HBO because I enjoyed them so much. They are the best since the British version of Offices.

In one of the recent conversations, in light of her going to Denmark in a week, we talked about the Danish men and Swendish men.

I mentioned that it seems to me, for no particular reason, that Swendish guys have good ass. But they are never my type anyway, being blonde mostly. I said my cultural background used to make me blush in admitting this, but I do kinda of need the man to have a good ass to turn me on, like I realize that is the third thing I check on a man nowadays, after his eyes, his hands and there, his ass, followed by sense of humor and heart of gold, opacity gold.

I think I have acquired a pretty crude taste for staying in this country for too long. Americans have corrupted me.

I said I used to think I have been in love with D becuase of his long eyelashes, those like Dick Dive, but then I realize I really miss the his ass among other parts, as well.

The almight funny Robin gave me this in response: i don't have time to critique asses....just looking for one who isn't an ass.

I laughed for a good 2 minutes.

Laugh is the best remedy to kill pain, no?

When my father had a stroke in 2002, I flied back home for a month. All we did in the time we spent in his room in the hospital, was trying to make him and my mom laugh, laugh as if were having the best time in the world.

I used to make D laugh too, and D made me. But our each respective unhappiness and anxiety caught up with us, with me, I lost my cool and my wit for sometime, I lost my ability to make him laugh, the moment when he most needed it.

All I could have done is to make him, as his friends had been trying to make him, like I have made mine friends when they feel like crying, to laugh.

But I was not able to. I was sad and weak, I did not have the strength that I have now, it takes growth and growing pain to be able to make people you care really laugh.

D is still making people laugh. He is performing as a comedian, I came to know through some search. I read about that he even dropped his pants--a hilarious show, must be. I am pround of him and his ass. I wish I could be there, but I will applaud at a distance just as well.

In the last year or so, days of my own self reflections, of withstanding the pain and lonliness for misshing D, I have become closer to some fantastic people like Robin and Mylene and more, and to myself. I make them laugh, I also am able to laugh at myself, it goes hand in hand.

You could not make others laugh, if you are not first of all, able to laugh at yourself, your mistake, you pettiness sometime, your screw up, your obessession, and your ultimate strive to be better, simple and real.

In the first time D and I went out, I said to him, in my best witty moments, don't make me laugh, that will make me getting old quicker for all the winkles I will get from laughing so hard. He said, no, you got it all wrong.

I was deadly wrong, of course, I would have all the winkles on my face, for a hearty moment to laugh together with my beloved friends, with D, with my parents and sisters, with all those I have cared for and have enjoyed.

A smiling face, with even a heartache, is still the most beautiful scenery in the world, arguably second only to a sexy man's ass, on my humble list of favorite things in life.