Just a typical run through Central Park on a spring day, passing by this adorable snowman couple holding hands…
And in case you’re in the park later and happen to spot these lovebirds on the 103rd st. transverse, the answer to your question is yes, I am the one who kicked their heads off and stabbed those butcher knives through their torsos.
#spring
I dare you– DARE YOU– to start your day watching/listening to this clip and not be in a better mood.
Hold on to your habit– shit’s about to get joyful!!!!!
A few disclaimers:
1) I am not claiming that a song/dance routine can cure depression. If that were the case, I would have flushed my Prozac years ago and used the therapy money to buy a yacht. Well, not a yacht. Maybe a lifetime’s worth of Chipotle? Ok fine a yacht is a better investment. I just felt my dad put his head in his hands. (It’s just…then I’d have to learn how to yacht, how to take care of a yacht…just seems like a lot of work, Dad….)
2) My sharing of this clip is not a promotion of religion. I am not religious. I am certainly not Catholic. I am Jewish, remember? You must be new here.
3) Hey, remember when Lauryn Hill didn’t hate all white people? Ok, fine, that turned out to be a nasty rumor (seriously– I was curious so I Snope-d it), but it still made me sad for a few years.
4) I obviously still bought her album, screamed the lyrics to “Doo-Wop (That Thing)” and just hoped she never found out about it. Because if the rumors about her not wanting white people to sing her music were true, I was most definitely the EXACT white person she was talking about.
5) Yeah, I know. 3 and 4 aren’t really disclaimers. It’s called A.D.D., guys.
That moment when your therapist starts referring to the men in your life by number, because they all have the same goddamn jewish name and she can’t keep track.
“Can’t you date a Dennis?”
“I’m sorry– a Dennis?!”
“Ok. That was a bad example.”
Our school math coach, a lovey man who works in our school about once a month (but who I don’t know well at all), sees me in the hall.
Him: “Oh! Hello Miss Emily! How are you doing?”
That moment when someone highly recommends the movie Still Alice, in which Julianne Moore plays a woman with early-onset Alzheimers, so you take out your phone to set a reminder for yourself to see it, but once the phone is in your hand you forget why you took it out, and five minutes later, once you remember, you REALLY. FUCKING. PANIC.
Why yes, enthusiastic man on street– today IS the day I’d like to sponsor a child in Guatemala! In fact, let’s save ALL THE CHILDREN!!!!***
#daylightsavings #seasonalaffectivedisorder #itsabovefreezing #sunisshining
***Did not actually sponsor child. Can barely afford own life.
Daylight Savings Time is the Universe’s way of teaching us that if we scream and bitch and moan and cry about the winter cold and darkness every single day for 4 months straight, we will eventually get our way.
Or, I don’t know. A broader lesson.
I just witnessed a mom pulling her bratty toddler son down the street as he screams, cries, flails his arms, stomps his feet, and wails, over and over, “NOOOOO! I don’t like the cold! I DON’T LIKE IT! I DON’T LIKKKKKKKKKKKE ITTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!”
And as I stare at this hysterical, out-of-control kid, hell-bent on making sure every innocent bystander knows JUST how miserable the cold is making him, and going about it in the most dramatic, obnoxious way possible, I can’t help but think– oh good. Now I can stop doing it.
Thanks for taking over, kid.
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