Funny Girl

The title of this post is autobiographical and it has nothing to do with the famous musical or Jennifer Aniston’s recent tribute photoshoot to Streisand herself.

I never really thought of myself as an incredibly funny person until recently a friend from work called me ‘a natural comedian’ trying to justify his tendency to giggle at my every comment, even when it was simply about work. He said it has also something to do with my facial expressions when I talk (?!) AND my accent. I now walk around aware of the fact that I look like a female version of Jim Carrey and that I sound ridiculous.

Admittedly, I have the tendency to bring upon myself laughter-inducing situations. Only most of the times, they’re not intentional. Last week alone, I managed to send a semi-formal email to the Head of Operations at work asking him if there was a ‘glitz’ in our system. Helena tried to laugh it off saying that everyone loves a bit glamour in their operating systems but that didn’t make me feel less of a tit. But I still didn’t feel like I wanted to hide myself under a rock as embarrassing situations have become kind of my comfort zone.

Ever since I lost my shoe on a busy platform on my way to work. In rush hour. It stopped a few meters away from the gap. I had to ran to put it on and then get on the same carriage with the same people who had seen it fly all the way from the bottom of the escalator to the edge of the platform.

Yes, I think that was the day I stopped being embarrassed about silly things like that. Or maybe it was the day I was cursed by a transvestite to have kids that will earn their living as sex workers in the future? When I was inside a taxi on my way home. The driver almost had a heart attack laughing. I can’t decide.

No, no wait. It was the day I tripped while walking down Lower Regent Street. On a banana skin. While I was carrying a laptop bag and a handbag and the only place I could hold myself from was a bin. Kneeling on the pavement a minute away from Piccaddilly Circus with my two hands gripping the bin tightly. Take this, Mythbusters! Busted, my ass!

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the time a lady offered me her seat on the Tube looking at my flowy dress (which I have never worn since) to whom I replied ‘I’M NOT PREGNANT’. Yes, by that point I was already maxed out.

Now, don’t you dare say that all this sounds suspiciously like a Sandra Bullock movie. I can live with being a Jim Carrey-lookalike leprechaun but Sandra Bullock? God, please no!

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