Dear Larainy,
Since it is a well known fact that most comedy is rooted in pain, what are the moments that have left you so horribly scarred?
Sincerely,
Marbloid Hansen
First of all Marbloid, thank you for asking such a superbly sensitive question, when you obviously bear the scars of the horrible name you bear. Why did your parents name you after your Aunt Margaret who suffered from hemmorhoids? Why oh why did they do that to you?
But enough about you, let's talk about me again.
There were many incidents during my formative years that made me into a wry chronicler of life's droll indignities, but I will only name a few because I know you are trying to cut down on the antidepressants.
1. It was picture day in second grade and my parents were out of town, leaving me in the care of my dear auntie, who, although a wonderful person, set my hair in little pink rollers that produced a hairstyle called the "George Washington" because it resulted in something resembling a powdered wig. (Biting of lip and formation of tiny blood pearl ) This 1776 hairstyle ruined my fashion cred for the rest of my grade school career.
2. As a tender preteen, I was trying on a pair of new jeans in the tiny confines of the dressing room at Maxine's fashions when my feet became hopelessly tangled in a denim morass. I lost my balance, pitching headlong through the flimsy dressing room door and sprawling into the curious view of other shoppers. I lay, hogtied, my old elastic challenged panties unflatteringly lit by garish flourescent fixtures. (Tiny salty trickle escapes down cheek)
3. I had seven brothers and was often forced to take refuge in a tree or improvise a shelter over the clothesline, living off the land which included eating raw eggs from the chicken coop and live polliwogs from the Polliwog pond when they were in season.
