“A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in I could sleep for a year or This book weighs a ton.”
I finally figured out what’s wrong with L.A.
I’ve been here six months, and I’ve been having a little trouble making friends. I have gone out and systematically met with people. I take advantage of the opportunities that are out there.
But somehow, it’s been falling flat. A lot of people don’t really want to get together again, and I’m not that disappointed.
I haven’t really met anyone that I made a connection with.
I went swing dancing a few weeks ago for the first time at a place called the Derby. I was worried about going alone, I thought people wouldn’t be friendly.
I couldn’t have been more wrong! Lots of people were there, lots of nice men asked me to dance. Some people even sat and talked with me.
But I came away feeling a little flat. At the time I was thinking, “L.A. boys are too nice.”
Boy that is not something I would imagine myself thinking. I’m not the “bad boy” type. I really enjoy respectful, intelligent well-dressed men.
Something was wrong.
My brother Chris came to visit me yesterday. He just got back from a world tour of Orthodox monasteries.
I was really worried that our conversation would be really heavy.
I did not want to spend the evening being very serious.
So I made a point of poking fun. There is a hell of a lot that is funny about monasteries, once you stop and look at it.
And my brother has a great sense of humor! There were times when I had him cracking up. And he made me laugh, too.
I woke up this morning, and I figured it out.
NO ONE IN L.A. HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR.
That’s the “too nice” I’ve been running up against.
I love to laugh and make fun of things. The aforementioned “Hyperbole” is one of my favorites…To exaggerate something to show how ridiculous it is..I toss those little hyperboles off all the time.
And I’ve been met with blank stares and nods.
“No! It’s funny! I didn’t mean it literally!”
You can’t explain a joke. Everyone knows that. I couldn’t defend myself.
Things that are bust-my-gut funny are taken totally seriously by everyone I’ve met.
It’s starting to make me feel like a crazy person. Stupid little jokes at work, like “Boy, this coffee is so strong I think it just walked out the room and asked the boss for a promotion” don’t even illicit a groan or an eye-roll.
When you say outrageous things, and laugh uproariously ALONE, you look imbalanced.
But I suppose it’s not a surprise. Being funny is a career in Los Angeles.
Anyone that can crack a half-funny joke is locked in some dungeon somewhere churning out one-liners for That 70s Show or The Simpsons
All we are left with here in the main populace are incredibly earnest and serious peace activists, vegan animal rights people, weight lifters, motivational coaches, yoga instructors and failed actors.
Anyone that wants to laugh has to watch reruns.