I, Badmouth
I have to take a Public Speaking class; when I had to introduce myself to the class, I found that I was filled with so much apprehension I could barely do more than blurt out my name, hobby and major before booking, hastily, back to my seat, flinging my pride and sense of accomplishment by the wayside in my rush to be reunited with anonymousness in the cozy home of my slightly too little desk/chair combo. Today we were supposed to give our first speech so I prepared the only way I knew how to combat my unexpected nervousness: I maximum caffeinated.
Our speeches only had to be two minutes, but I prepared by practicing rambling narratives that consumed upwards of three. It is fortunate I memorized some excess to throw in because, between being ill-at-ease and soaked to the gills with a stimulant, I set a frantic pace. My speech might have set a new land speed record if it hadn't been confined to one tiny classroom on the second floor of an inconsequential building dedicated primarily to English, Technical Writing and Language labs spinning eternally through space on a little planet we like to call Earth. Instead, I crushed my three minute opus into two minutes minus ten seconds, barely making the minimum and overwhelming my audience in a rush of personal information they never wanted to contend with in their entire lives. 'I have spoken to them, and they are diminished,' is basically the gist there.
I recall a few other people's presentations. We fit several different stereotypes quite effectively. Our assignment was to chronicle a miscommunication, identify the two communicative barriers that lead to this foul miscarriage of communicative justice and then express a potential resolution. Below are the people I remember, each lovingly labelled as their clichè, their story described to the best of my ability, the solution they proposed and the solution I personally find the most efficacious. I think I'll include why they stuck out in my mind too, on the off-chance you wondered.
They are: It's the guy who has to tell all of us how funny he is because otherwise, we're not going to know.
They said: "I groped blindly for a joke by conflating the textbook for Women's Studies with The Joy of Cooking."
They fixed it! "I guess I should've smiled or indicated that I was telling a hilarious joke through some other trigger, perhaps by first relating to my female friend that I'm really funny, it's just that nobody can tell."
I countered: "Don't speak."
I remembered: I always remember when people tell me they're funny, usually because I am then shocked and appalled when they are not. "You lie!" I have screamed at certain individuals. "You talk and you say words and they are all filthy lies!"
They are: The girl who was really, really into her high school's football team
They said: "So we seniors decided we would sit in the middle at the front and totally rock the clock all game long! But then we went to an away game and these freshmen sat there! They weren't supposed to sit in the middle, we were! We were the Tailgate Party, for life! Freshmen sat in the middle at the front and they weren't supposed to! They needed to be somewhere besides in the middle at the front because that's where we seniors were all supposed to sit and be awesome! One senior guy said he was going to punch a freshman! Because the freshman was sitting in the middle at the front where we were supposed to be!"
They fixed it! "We should have told the freshmen they couldn't sit in the middle at the front!"
I countered: "All the animals are burning!"
I remembered: She went three minutes and four seconds. It is too long. Not acceptable!
They are: The guy who totally didn't prepare.
They said: "So like my friend uh.... I mean, he sort of like looked at me and I didn't like the look but... uh... it was bad communication, like when you punch your brother in the eye and he tells on you so you lock him out of the house naked and then uh.... I guess I don't have enough buckeyes, you know? Can you ever have enough?"
They fixed it! "Uh... I should like... say stuff the right way."
I countered: "I concur wholeheartedly. Don't wing your speech though, friend; only those of us addicted to the devilishly playful mistress that is too much caffeine can do that effectively, and we still practice at least once."
I remembered: Did I mention I got to do timekeeping? When I held up the minute and a half sign, he just stood there for ten seconds to eat up some more time. We all grew very uncomfortable.
They are: The girl who super loves her ex-boyfriend.
They said: "My boyfriend and I had this fight and we broke up over the summer (parenthetical interruption: hey, me too. I should be friend with her ex-boyfriend) and he started talking (parenthetical interruption: that's talking talking, not just talking.) to one of my friends and they were all talking. Then we got back together over Christmas, but he got real skeevy (parenthetical interruption: that's my word. She said 'shady.') and I had to look at his cell phone so I did and I saw all these texts to my friend he'd been talking to. I dumped him again and found this great new guy but I found out later he was just closing things off with her and he'd gotten all weird because he was going to propose to me and he was really nervous!"
They fixed it! "I guess I shouldn't leap to conclusions and assume I know everything."
I countered: "I can't believe I typed all that out."
I remembered: I scoffed slightly and earned an unpleasant look from the professor. Hopefully, my professional time-keeping skill level regained whatever favor I squandered by being myself.
They are: The nervous girl who went before me.
They said: "Something about my mom."
They fixed it! "I will talk to my mom better."
I countered: "Yeah, I'll talk to your mom too."
I remembered: She stole my going-first-because-I-will-suck-most thunder. If you don't have a funny story to tell, you always get up there and foist it upon the crowd before they've had a chance to dispel their own nervousness. I guarantee none of them remember me well enough to type a blog like this.
They are: The guy who makes racist jokes with his friends of other races
They said: "I just took his joke about white people and substituted black people!"
They fixed it! "I guess I should be careful who is nearby and might hear my hilarious retooling."
I countered: "Why don't you make your own jokes?"
I remembered: It always bothers me when people just redo what someone else has done; even in a classroom context, I don't like to hear about how hilarious your friend is and how hilarious you therefore become by stealing his material. Sure, my story was about getting drunk and having an old man throw his beer on me, but I lived it. I didn't go and irk an old man after one of my friends had angered one and been doused; I made it happen totally without precedent. That's me. That's how I live. That's why all my clothes smell like old beer.
They are: The guy who just read his story.
They said: It was a decent enough story, but I found myself more intrigued by his C-Span approach to public speaking. Once I'm a Congressman, I'll never take my eyes off whatever report a lobbyist handed me to deliver to an adoring public (check my scathing political satire! That's why I'm POLI SCI fuh lyfe), but until then, I think I'll opt for occasionally looking at my audience. This time, I used notecards I'd scribbled on five minutes before class so I'd have a prop. I drew a car with an X on it, a guy holding a giant guitar and a flower.
They fixed it! I forget.
I countered: "Amen, brother! No one lives forever! Let's have a party; there's a full moon in the sky. It's the hour of the wolf and I don't wanna die."
I remembered: Man, I remember that I am kind of a hypocrite for my whole rant against stealing other people's jokes in the entry prior to this one. I do it all the time; I just don't tell anybody and when I get caught, I pretend like it was intentional. Occasionally, that can be embarassing: "Of course I wanted you all to think of the waning days of season two of Just Shoot Me! by cleverly referencing it with a double entendre employed by the main character of the show! Man, when isn't a good time to bring up the adventures of Jack Gallows and his wacky magazine staff?"
On that note, I think I'm done. Maybe I will write about how awesome the gym is and how I've only seen one person there less attractive than me. I'm pretty sure he was a vagrant who'd wandered in so people into that homeless chic scene would totally dig him more than me.
Oh wait, I do want to say this: "I hate being the guy the professor looks at expectantly when no one else speaks. I waited two weeks before I opened my mouth in my English class and now, all of a sudden, I'm a pivotal figure." Fortunately, there're a couple other people she looks at first.
Oh wait times two, I will add an assessment of my own lackluster performance:
They are: the guy who's an alcoholic.
They said: "So I worked at this job and like I didn't have a car so I could walk about like six blocks in any direction so I like always went to this bar and I had a bar stool I like liked to sit on. One time, this old man wanted to tell me I was like sitting in his spot, but the bar was too loud and I totally couldn't understand him. He finally stalked off, but returned later and totally threw a beer on me."
They fixed it! "Uh, I guess I should stay out of old guy's ways."
I countered: "Why don't you dry out, you filthy barsop?"
I remembered: I told it. I'd hope I'd remember it. Incidentally, it was even worse when I said it to the close. Dear Zeus: Why did you make me so pathetic, oh mighty and terrible Golden Lord of our Pantheon? It's me, Todd-o.
Our speeches only had to be two minutes, but I prepared by practicing rambling narratives that consumed upwards of three. It is fortunate I memorized some excess to throw in because, between being ill-at-ease and soaked to the gills with a stimulant, I set a frantic pace. My speech might have set a new land speed record if it hadn't been confined to one tiny classroom on the second floor of an inconsequential building dedicated primarily to English, Technical Writing and Language labs spinning eternally through space on a little planet we like to call Earth. Instead, I crushed my three minute opus into two minutes minus ten seconds, barely making the minimum and overwhelming my audience in a rush of personal information they never wanted to contend with in their entire lives. 'I have spoken to them, and they are diminished,' is basically the gist there.
I recall a few other people's presentations. We fit several different stereotypes quite effectively. Our assignment was to chronicle a miscommunication, identify the two communicative barriers that lead to this foul miscarriage of communicative justice and then express a potential resolution. Below are the people I remember, each lovingly labelled as their clichè, their story described to the best of my ability, the solution they proposed and the solution I personally find the most efficacious. I think I'll include why they stuck out in my mind too, on the off-chance you wondered.
They are: It's the guy who has to tell all of us how funny he is because otherwise, we're not going to know.
They said: "I groped blindly for a joke by conflating the textbook for Women's Studies with The Joy of Cooking."
They fixed it! "I guess I should've smiled or indicated that I was telling a hilarious joke through some other trigger, perhaps by first relating to my female friend that I'm really funny, it's just that nobody can tell."
I countered: "Don't speak."
I remembered: I always remember when people tell me they're funny, usually because I am then shocked and appalled when they are not. "You lie!" I have screamed at certain individuals. "You talk and you say words and they are all filthy lies!"
They are: The girl who was really, really into her high school's football team
They said: "So we seniors decided we would sit in the middle at the front and totally rock the clock all game long! But then we went to an away game and these freshmen sat there! They weren't supposed to sit in the middle, we were! We were the Tailgate Party, for life! Freshmen sat in the middle at the front and they weren't supposed to! They needed to be somewhere besides in the middle at the front because that's where we seniors were all supposed to sit and be awesome! One senior guy said he was going to punch a freshman! Because the freshman was sitting in the middle at the front where we were supposed to be!"
They fixed it! "We should have told the freshmen they couldn't sit in the middle at the front!"
I countered: "All the animals are burning!"
I remembered: She went three minutes and four seconds. It is too long. Not acceptable!
They are: The guy who totally didn't prepare.
They said: "So like my friend uh.... I mean, he sort of like looked at me and I didn't like the look but... uh... it was bad communication, like when you punch your brother in the eye and he tells on you so you lock him out of the house naked and then uh.... I guess I don't have enough buckeyes, you know? Can you ever have enough?"
They fixed it! "Uh... I should like... say stuff the right way."
I countered: "I concur wholeheartedly. Don't wing your speech though, friend; only those of us addicted to the devilishly playful mistress that is too much caffeine can do that effectively, and we still practice at least once."
I remembered: Did I mention I got to do timekeeping? When I held up the minute and a half sign, he just stood there for ten seconds to eat up some more time. We all grew very uncomfortable.
They are: The girl who super loves her ex-boyfriend.
They said: "My boyfriend and I had this fight and we broke up over the summer (parenthetical interruption: hey, me too. I should be friend with her ex-boyfriend) and he started talking (parenthetical interruption: that's talking talking, not just talking.) to one of my friends and they were all talking. Then we got back together over Christmas, but he got real skeevy (parenthetical interruption: that's my word. She said 'shady.') and I had to look at his cell phone so I did and I saw all these texts to my friend he'd been talking to. I dumped him again and found this great new guy but I found out later he was just closing things off with her and he'd gotten all weird because he was going to propose to me and he was really nervous!"
They fixed it! "I guess I shouldn't leap to conclusions and assume I know everything."
I countered: "I can't believe I typed all that out."
I remembered: I scoffed slightly and earned an unpleasant look from the professor. Hopefully, my professional time-keeping skill level regained whatever favor I squandered by being myself.
They are: The nervous girl who went before me.
They said: "Something about my mom."
They fixed it! "I will talk to my mom better."
I countered: "Yeah, I'll talk to your mom too."
I remembered: She stole my going-first-because-I-will-suck-most thunder. If you don't have a funny story to tell, you always get up there and foist it upon the crowd before they've had a chance to dispel their own nervousness. I guarantee none of them remember me well enough to type a blog like this.
They are: The guy who makes racist jokes with his friends of other races
They said: "I just took his joke about white people and substituted black people!"
They fixed it! "I guess I should be careful who is nearby and might hear my hilarious retooling."
I countered: "Why don't you make your own jokes?"
I remembered: It always bothers me when people just redo what someone else has done; even in a classroom context, I don't like to hear about how hilarious your friend is and how hilarious you therefore become by stealing his material. Sure, my story was about getting drunk and having an old man throw his beer on me, but I lived it. I didn't go and irk an old man after one of my friends had angered one and been doused; I made it happen totally without precedent. That's me. That's how I live. That's why all my clothes smell like old beer.
They are: The guy who just read his story.
They said: It was a decent enough story, but I found myself more intrigued by his C-Span approach to public speaking. Once I'm a Congressman, I'll never take my eyes off whatever report a lobbyist handed me to deliver to an adoring public (check my scathing political satire! That's why I'm POLI SCI fuh lyfe), but until then, I think I'll opt for occasionally looking at my audience. This time, I used notecards I'd scribbled on five minutes before class so I'd have a prop. I drew a car with an X on it, a guy holding a giant guitar and a flower.
They fixed it! I forget.
I countered: "Amen, brother! No one lives forever! Let's have a party; there's a full moon in the sky. It's the hour of the wolf and I don't wanna die."
I remembered: Man, I remember that I am kind of a hypocrite for my whole rant against stealing other people's jokes in the entry prior to this one. I do it all the time; I just don't tell anybody and when I get caught, I pretend like it was intentional. Occasionally, that can be embarassing: "Of course I wanted you all to think of the waning days of season two of Just Shoot Me! by cleverly referencing it with a double entendre employed by the main character of the show! Man, when isn't a good time to bring up the adventures of Jack Gallows and his wacky magazine staff?"
On that note, I think I'm done. Maybe I will write about how awesome the gym is and how I've only seen one person there less attractive than me. I'm pretty sure he was a vagrant who'd wandered in so people into that homeless chic scene would totally dig him more than me.
Oh wait, I do want to say this: "I hate being the guy the professor looks at expectantly when no one else speaks. I waited two weeks before I opened my mouth in my English class and now, all of a sudden, I'm a pivotal figure." Fortunately, there're a couple other people she looks at first.
Oh wait times two, I will add an assessment of my own lackluster performance:
They are: the guy who's an alcoholic.
They said: "So I worked at this job and like I didn't have a car so I could walk about like six blocks in any direction so I like always went to this bar and I had a bar stool I like liked to sit on. One time, this old man wanted to tell me I was like sitting in his spot, but the bar was too loud and I totally couldn't understand him. He finally stalked off, but returned later and totally threw a beer on me."
They fixed it! "Uh, I guess I should stay out of old guy's ways."
I countered: "Why don't you dry out, you filthy barsop?"
I remembered: I told it. I'd hope I'd remember it. Incidentally, it was even worse when I said it to the close. Dear Zeus: Why did you make me so pathetic, oh mighty and terrible Golden Lord of our Pantheon? It's me, Todd-o.