Pretty Funnies?

Hey y’all! Thank you for being here tonight, and letting me be the center of attention for a couple minutes. Good looking crowd too. My name’s Lydie and, as you can probably already tell, I’m super good looking as well. I’m pretty adorable. I’m also very smart, thoughtful, sweet, funny, nice. Obviously humble. I’m just kidding, none of that’s true. If I’m gonna be honest…y’all are pretty ugly.

This looks like a bunch of weirdos so let’s play a game. I’m super competitive and I love winning so the game is rigged in my favor. It’s called “2 Truths and a Lie.”

My brother Adam invited (slash forced) me to go to a Coldplay concert with him on Halloween one year. Whhhy though???? Who the does that? Coldplay sucks. I didn’t want to go so, I dressed as a VERY happy clown because Adam hates clowns, and he’s my older brother so obviously I love annoying and pissing him off. So, he already hates my guts all night but later, after like 45 vodkas and several bong hits, I got the drunk girl cries. The ladies know what I’m talking about. Drunk girl cries are when 22-year-old girls start ugly crying for no apparent reason, usually locked in the bathroom. Which was the case that night. So, I’m wearing a tutu with a big red nose and curly hair rainbow wig, inconsolably sobbing in the only bathroom at a house party. My brother knocks on the door.

*Knock knock*

You okay B?

GO AWAY, I HATE EVERYONE

Can I come in?

NO, I’m HIDEOUS

Let me in. You’re not hideous.

*Click, I unlock the door and throw it open like an ANGRY clown*

My brother’s faceeeeeee was so amazing! Apparently my big red VERY happy clown smile is now smudged everywhere, and I have these crazy blue and black triangles painted on my eyes and now they’re smearing down my face with tears. My whole face was also painted ghost white because I’m absolutely nuts and I’m psychotically crying like a crazy person looking like a CRAZY CLOWN wearing a tutu. The fearrrrrrr in Adam’s face…. he whispers to me, “Please God please. You are terrifying right now, I can’t even look at you, you look insane, you’re scaring me. You have to wash your face.” Obviously, I went from hysterically crying to hysterically laughing because Adam was so mortified and he straight up turned around and ran! Best Halloween ever. No regrets. I dress up as a clown every year now.

Story Number 2

I spent an entire semester in college trying to hook up with this guy named Harry. Harry was very pretty to look at. He was the definition of a pretty boy. He had that Southern gentleman, rich boy look, which we all know can be a disguise for a huge douchebag. I used to be into that sometimes *shrug* bad girl promiscuous college years, you know? I told you I’m the worst. Anyway, Harry was one of those guys who thought he was holier than thou, and too good for everyone, including me. I’m the adorable, little, pudgy, cute, smartass, showoff girl demanding everyone’s attention. That hasn’t changed. And Harry didn’t like me at all, so naturally I saw that as a challenge to trick him with my manipulative witchcraft. Did I mention I’m a witch? That’s another story. My mom hates that one. But anyway, Harry needed a little persuasion to make out with me, and I had to use all my evil wit and charm to make it happen. It took a couple drunken nights, but we’re finally making out at a frat party in a stranger’s dirty gross bedroom. All the lights are on because I like to know what I’m signing up for. I highly recommend keeping the lights on during new sexy time encounters. Let me tell you why. So, I’m on my knees, waiting for the show, and Harry unzips his stupid short short khakis. You know, the douchy ones frat guys wear…*zipppp, shuffle hands, plops it out* Then yoooo y’all! I was speechless. A full 3 seconds of shocked, painfully awkward silence from me staring at his dick. It was sooooo small that I actually forgot what I was looking at. And then, because I’m a horrible person, the next thing I did was laugh out loud SO LOUD and I yelled EVEN LOUDER, heartlessly kind of… “Holy shit, no fucking way. That’s it?” The look of horror on that dude’s face…pure joy for me. Fucking hilarious and terrible as fuck too. So GOOD. And then what did I do? While I’m evil so I stood up, turned around, and left the room still giggling. *Shrug, evil laugh* But really though guys, my advice to all the dudes here tonight - if you have a little dick, you shouldn’t BE a huge dick too. There will be laughs at your expense, and you’ll deserve it. 15 years later, I can sense an asshole person with a dinky dicky before I have to see their whole package now thank God. It’s called “small dick energy” and I think about Harry’s little wienie every time. As a grown woman, I’ll take a nice guy with a small penis no problem, no jokes and I will love that dick good. But even my younger, drunker, hedonist self didn’t accept a jerkoff with a tiny jerkoff. That was the best frat party I ever went to.

More recently, I was simultaneously extremely scared and then preceded to one up the person scaring me by being that much more insane. Did you know that creepy gargoyles are supposed to ward off evil spirits and protect the people inside their buildings? Gargoyles are scary because you gotta be scary to scare away scary shit. Remember that if you’re walking by yourself at night and you’re scared. If you act batshit nuts and start talking to yourself like you’re a pissed off schizophrenic then other scary people will be scared of you too. You must be scarier than the scary people. They’ll leave you alone if you look like a sociopath. So that’s what I did to this poor man the other night. I’ve been friends with this guy for a few months. His name is Justin, and we’ve hung out at my house alone at night a few times. Just friends, no hanky panky…he would though so I have to set the boundaries. It’s not entirely untrue that men can’t be friends with women without wanting the sex, but women can 100% be friends with men. Men are mostly dumb and also fairly scary, even if I “mostly” trust them not to kill me and necrophilia my dead body. I heard morgues don’t hire many men anymore *evil laugh* I have lots of radically unpopular views about men, but I’ll save that for another bit. Anyway, I’m hanging out with Justin who I’m 95% sure is a solid human being and good person, but it’s my first time hanging out at his house ever and we’re alone at night and pretty drunk and high. As soon as we get there, I lean over to take a huge line of coca that he’s generously offered me, and as soon as I put my nose to the counter, I hear this BZZZZZZZZZ. So, fucking loud and I jump like one of those crazy cats 8 feet in the air. And he laughs, and I laugh, and I was like “What the fuck was that? Poor timing dude.” And he goes “Oh it’s a taser. My mom left it here.” *Laughing with scared look in my eyes* “Oh my god, why do you have that? Why does your mom have that?” I love being scared and watching scary movies. I’m the one who screams in the movie theater when everyone jumps, and then everyone laughs, including me. Being scared is good fun. With exceptions thoughhhhhh! At this point, I’m still laughing with Justin and he reminds me how his mom is kinda crazy doomsday prepper, which I AM TOOOOO. But I forgot, but now that makes sense why there’s a super strength legit military level taser in the kitchen. So, I laugh more, consider being tased for funsies, but decide against that because I don’t want to piss myself in front of Justin. Maybe 30-40 minutes later, Justin disappears to pee in a toilet like a rational person because he didn’t want to be tased either. But dude comes back with a little black box, and I’m thinking, “Oh cool, what’s in the box?” Not Brad Pitt “WHAT’S IN THE BOX???” Just regular, unconcerned curiosity. I didn’t even ask “What’s in the box?" out loud? So, what is in the box you ask? A fucking little hardcore looking all black Glock and some big ass brass bullets.. So now I’m legitimately concerned because I’m not a total idiot. That’s not true. I am a total idiot, but I’m also a fighter, not a flighter and I will fight anyone and win. So, I say “Yooo! Is that a fucking gun?” And he’s like “Yeah, I thought you liked guns, and we’re talking about the apocalypse. I’m sorry. Is this weird? I guess it’s weird. I’m so sorry. I can put it away.” Good answer Justin…I’m immediately comforted because he’s super concerned by my discomfort and I’m all cool and tell him, straight up dead ass serious, “Yeah, it’s a little weird that you have a taser on the counter and a gun in your hand 30 minutes after I get here, but I will 100% kill you first if this goes sideways, and I’ll kill your dog too. I love dogs, Justin. Don’t make me kill Beasley. He’s so slow and easy to kill, just like you.” I didn’t laugh or smile at all. Justin laughed though. It was super funny nervous laughter, which I greatly enjoyed, and he’s kind of shouts, “Oh my God! No! do not kill my dog. I just wanted to show you my cool little gun. I’m putting it away. Please don't kill Beasley” So now Justin knows I’m scarier than him so I tell him I’m “just kidding.” Greatest weird night this month. Tell me about your cool gun, I love it. Also, still appropriately cautious for a drunk woman alone at night somewhere in Manassas with a nice dog and a serial killer.

My favorite serial killer is Ted Bundy. Jeffrey Dahmer is a close second. Bundy because he’s kind of hot, and I’m not entirely sure small dick energy applies to him. Why isn’t that included in his documentaries? Dahmer loses points for targeting a marginalized community within a marginalized community, but he eats people which is kind of cool. I’d prefer a justified vigilante cannibal instead of a creeper preying on completely innocent poor black gay men. But of all the serial killers, the scariest one is Pogo, the closeted killer clown notoriously donned by John Wayne Gacy. Nothing is scarier than a very happy, normal, cool clown throwing parties and burying kids under his floorboards. I have a life-size clown in my basement named Pogo. Sometimes he's in the kitchen. My brother doesn’t like him. Neither does my mom. I should lie to my mom more often about my stories. I also forgot to lie to y’all too with the whole “2 Truths and a Lie” game. Were they all true or all lies? Or was I cheating? Lying and cheating aren't always terrible. Lie to save your life. Cheat death to stay alive. Life is funny. But life is also scary. If it's fun to be scared and death is scary, then that must mean death is just as funny and fun as life. That's a pretty scary funny thought. Okay, I'm done here. Goodnight, sweet dreams, don’t forget to look under your bed and over your shoulder tonight! Byeeeee!!!!