Seredipity and Drew Carey
This is not the blog I meant to write today- I had a few ideas- write about my party and fantastic friends, about some people's implication that they are so "busy" and the rest of us eat bon bon's all day... but this is the one that needed to be written.
According to Merriam-Webster's serendipity is defined as the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for.
Serendipity plays a role in my life often. I am a collector of friends. I find that they find their way into my life always at the exact right moment.
As did Drew Carey.
For about the past 14 years, I've been meaning to thank him.
No, I don't actually know him. In fact. since I don't actually know him, it's been a little difficult to follow through on my karmic mission of thanking him.
But suddenly, he's popped up again- twice in the past week. When I was at the manicurist, The Price is Right was on. Not shocking, but I thought "Ah, Drew Carey... I never did send a thank you..."
Then today, I was playing "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" on Facebook and the question was "Which comedian replaced Bob Barker on 'The Price is Right?'"
Drew Carey. (And by the way, only 4 people got that right-- seriously??? )
Anyhow, I thought "Hmmm.... it's a sign. I should start my mission to thank him..." I'd gotten nowhere over the years. Those silly laws preventing celebrity stalking... ANYHOW, he does have a blog on Blogger. So I thought, well, I'll give it the ol' college try and send this as a shout out.
Thank you, Drew Carey.
Oh wait-- you're probably curious as to why I would thank him....
You see, 14 years ago, Mama Bean's World did not exist. I was Lori, alone in Las Vegas, recently had called off a wedding after finding out that my lovely fiance had had a pretend diploma, pretend job and oh, had kited a bunch of money from my bank account. The good news, I found out 6 weeks before we were supposed to get married. Nice save. Great, huh? Sure. Then, my go-to guy-- the one that had always been there waiting for me-- well, he finally found someone else. Someone who appreciated him and didn't use him perpetually as Plan B. That hurt worse than the fiance because I deserved that. Really deserved it. Work sucked. Beyond sucked. As in a major class action lawsuit the next year (apparently, I wasn't the only one who was having issues). All my friends were married and having babies. It was not a fun time.
And then I got strep throat. Bad. On a three day weekend. Everyone was out of town except for 1 work colleague who was nice enough to drive me to the quick care. Actually, he followed me in my car because he couldn't stay. I figured I could call a cab if I couldn't drive back home.
I was sick. I was depressed. Really depressed. Not in the hormonal-imbalance-medicatable way, but in the holy-shit-my-life-really-and-truly-sucks way. Yes, me. Miss Sunshine and Roses. Miss I Was a Motivational Speaker in a Previous Life me.
To make it worse, I wasn't sure how I ended up in that spot. I had dated some great guys- turned down some proposals- had quit fantastic jobs- had traveled the world.
All to end up, sad, alone on a futon with 102 degree fever.
You'd have been sad, too. It had all looked so promising yet at that moment, looked nothing like the picture in the brochure "Lori's Spectacular Life."
Earlier in the week I had picked up the book "Dirty Jokes and Beer" at Borders. I think it was in the discount bin. I lived in Cleveland. I liked Drew Carey. I'm a John Irving fan, a contemporary literature gal, so this was not my normal genre. I have no idea why I picked it up. But I did.
I grabbed it from my coffee table.
I read the forward.
Drew Carey and I have lead oddly parallel lives. We grew up in NE Ohio. We are band nerds. We attended Kent State- although mine was only a semester junior year. We even both lived (I still do) in Vegas and here, both did not find our lives heading in the direction we had chosen.
I started to smile.
The first part of the book is comprised of some of the funniest short stories I have ever read. I still laugh to myself when I think about the guy getting chased by Jim Brown-- I don't remember the details, but in NE Ohio, Jim Brown is a god.
I started to laugh.
A lot.
The stories incorporate life in Cleveland, at Kent, in Vegas... all hilarious, twisted and right up my alley. Disturbed, in fact. All with references that seemed custom made for me.
Then the joke sections...
There is an entire chapter dedicated to Big Dick Jokes. Holy cow, I have never laughed so hard in my life. He and a friend had apparently started a battle of whose dick was bigger and the jokes were born. And they are hysterically funny- grossly inappropriate for dinner conversation, but at the time, exactly what I needed.
Serendipitous, in fact.
So there I was, on my futon, running a fever with tears running down my eyes from laughing so hard about penis jokes.
My 6 month funk ended in that moment.
No joke.
A crass, crude, juvenile book of some of the bawdiest jokes ever pulled this Ivy League prima donna, Debbie Do Right out of the worst funk of my life.
Silly, huh?
For the next few months any time I felt myself start to slip back into that funk, I would pull out the book and start laughing.
It sorta saved my life. I wasn't suicidal, but to be honest, had I not gotten off that futon, I probably would have become a bitter, angry person. I was sliding and that's what got me to turn it around. Who knows where I would have ended up?
The jokes were also useful on the dating scene- trust me, big dick jokes sound extra funny coming from sweet, little ol' me.
So, Drew Carey, if you're reading this, thank you. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you. I just thought that as someone who had a few funk periods yourself, you might want to know that your silly little joke book turned it around for me. I know, it's ridiculous, but it really, truly did.
Life is quite good. I've never gone back to that dark place on the futon again.
But when the clouds start to creep in, I hear a tiny voice that says...
"My dick is so big it has it's own area code...."
And I know everything is gonna be all right.
According to Merriam-Webster's serendipity is defined as the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for.
Serendipity plays a role in my life often. I am a collector of friends. I find that they find their way into my life always at the exact right moment.
As did Drew Carey.
For about the past 14 years, I've been meaning to thank him.
No, I don't actually know him. In fact. since I don't actually know him, it's been a little difficult to follow through on my karmic mission of thanking him.
But suddenly, he's popped up again- twice in the past week. When I was at the manicurist, The Price is Right was on. Not shocking, but I thought "Ah, Drew Carey... I never did send a thank you..."
Then today, I was playing "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" on Facebook and the question was "Which comedian replaced Bob Barker on 'The Price is Right?'"
Drew Carey. (And by the way, only 4 people got that right-- seriously??? )
Anyhow, I thought "Hmmm.... it's a sign. I should start my mission to thank him..." I'd gotten nowhere over the years. Those silly laws preventing celebrity stalking... ANYHOW, he does have a blog on Blogger. So I thought, well, I'll give it the ol' college try and send this as a shout out.
Thank you, Drew Carey.
Oh wait-- you're probably curious as to why I would thank him....
You see, 14 years ago, Mama Bean's World did not exist. I was Lori, alone in Las Vegas, recently had called off a wedding after finding out that my lovely fiance had had a pretend diploma, pretend job and oh, had kited a bunch of money from my bank account. The good news, I found out 6 weeks before we were supposed to get married. Nice save. Great, huh? Sure. Then, my go-to guy-- the one that had always been there waiting for me-- well, he finally found someone else. Someone who appreciated him and didn't use him perpetually as Plan B. That hurt worse than the fiance because I deserved that. Really deserved it. Work sucked. Beyond sucked. As in a major class action lawsuit the next year (apparently, I wasn't the only one who was having issues). All my friends were married and having babies. It was not a fun time.
And then I got strep throat. Bad. On a three day weekend. Everyone was out of town except for 1 work colleague who was nice enough to drive me to the quick care. Actually, he followed me in my car because he couldn't stay. I figured I could call a cab if I couldn't drive back home.
I was sick. I was depressed. Really depressed. Not in the hormonal-imbalance-medicatable way, but in the holy-shit-my-life-really-and-truly-sucks way. Yes, me. Miss Sunshine and Roses. Miss I Was a Motivational Speaker in a Previous Life me.
To make it worse, I wasn't sure how I ended up in that spot. I had dated some great guys- turned down some proposals- had quit fantastic jobs- had traveled the world.
All to end up, sad, alone on a futon with 102 degree fever.
You'd have been sad, too. It had all looked so promising yet at that moment, looked nothing like the picture in the brochure "Lori's Spectacular Life."
Earlier in the week I had picked up the book "Dirty Jokes and Beer" at Borders. I think it was in the discount bin. I lived in Cleveland. I liked Drew Carey. I'm a John Irving fan, a contemporary literature gal, so this was not my normal genre. I have no idea why I picked it up. But I did.
I grabbed it from my coffee table.
I read the forward.
Drew Carey and I have lead oddly parallel lives. We grew up in NE Ohio. We are band nerds. We attended Kent State- although mine was only a semester junior year. We even both lived (I still do) in Vegas and here, both did not find our lives heading in the direction we had chosen.
I started to smile.
The first part of the book is comprised of some of the funniest short stories I have ever read. I still laugh to myself when I think about the guy getting chased by Jim Brown-- I don't remember the details, but in NE Ohio, Jim Brown is a god.
I started to laugh.
A lot.
The stories incorporate life in Cleveland, at Kent, in Vegas... all hilarious, twisted and right up my alley. Disturbed, in fact. All with references that seemed custom made for me.
Then the joke sections...
There is an entire chapter dedicated to Big Dick Jokes. Holy cow, I have never laughed so hard in my life. He and a friend had apparently started a battle of whose dick was bigger and the jokes were born. And they are hysterically funny- grossly inappropriate for dinner conversation, but at the time, exactly what I needed.
Serendipitous, in fact.
So there I was, on my futon, running a fever with tears running down my eyes from laughing so hard about penis jokes.
My 6 month funk ended in that moment.
No joke.
A crass, crude, juvenile book of some of the bawdiest jokes ever pulled this Ivy League prima donna, Debbie Do Right out of the worst funk of my life.
Silly, huh?
For the next few months any time I felt myself start to slip back into that funk, I would pull out the book and start laughing.
It sorta saved my life. I wasn't suicidal, but to be honest, had I not gotten off that futon, I probably would have become a bitter, angry person. I was sliding and that's what got me to turn it around. Who knows where I would have ended up?
The jokes were also useful on the dating scene- trust me, big dick jokes sound extra funny coming from sweet, little ol' me.
So, Drew Carey, if you're reading this, thank you. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you. I just thought that as someone who had a few funk periods yourself, you might want to know that your silly little joke book turned it around for me. I know, it's ridiculous, but it really, truly did.
Life is quite good. I've never gone back to that dark place on the futon again.
But when the clouds start to creep in, I hear a tiny voice that says...
"My dick is so big it has it's own area code...."
And I know everything is gonna be all right.
Comments