There's a Be Nice Be Respectful movement under foot and I for one am pretty excited about it. Being a nice person myself, I'd enjoy the company. I was starting to feel like the world in which my mom took Gatorade out to the City of Hubbard Street Department workers had disappeared forever. From what I understand road crews now get run over on purpose by stressed-out housewives in SUVs.
If there's an upside to the rock bottom we hit when a representative yelled a third-grade insult to the President of the United States in a joint session of Congress, it's that now we may have bounced off the bottom and instead of drowning in our own asshattery, we made it back up to the top, took a big breath and gasped, "You look nice today."
I'd like to think my mom is smiling in her signature way and telling us we're all excused from detention but are on probation for life. So watch it, missy.
I'm already pretty nice, so I'm going to do my part in the Be Nice Be Respectful movement with compliments. I think that we all get off on flattery. And the world would be a better place if we praised each other more often. I think telling someone they got a good haircut or smell nice or have on a pretty outfit or make a great tasting appetizer at a pot luck is the key to being nice.
I'm not one of those people who lie like a rug every hour on the hour until they have to comment on your new jacket and suddenly they're Truthy McHonesty and could be struck dead if they said "Cute jacket!" when they in fact do not think it's cute at all. "Well, it is - colorful!" they'll blurt out, sweating the close call with eternal damnation.
The guy at the Toyota dealership told me once I looked like Helen Hunt and I rode high on that silver moonbeam of bullshit for like a week. I know what I look like, OK? I know in my heart and in my smart brain that I don't look a thing like Helen Hunt. I have light-ish hair and I have all of my limbs. And that's about where the similarities between me and Helen Hunt stop.
I knew he was just playing me because he's a shmoozing, beyond-his-years gentlemanly kind of car service dude. I didn't think any less of him for making up such a ridiculous compliment. I didn't say, "Are you blind? Have you ever even watched Mad About You?" I didn't care. I just wanted to be complimented. It feels good. Every time.
When I was in my 20s, some guy in a lounge bar told me I should be up on stage singing with the band because I'm "such a great singer."
Yes, a drunk guy who wasn't even sure I had a tongue and vocal chords told me I was a great singer and instead of saying, "Man, who's your designated driver?" I did an aw shucks move and briefly considered meeting him for coffee the next day.
And then a couple of months ago, my friend Ana said I reminded her of Jennifer Lawrence. I had just finished telling a long story where I used lots of arm motions and facial expressions.
"You remind me of someone. Who is it? Who am I thinking of?" Ana said.
"Grover?" someone said.
"Mary Kay Place," I chimed in. I whipped out my phone and brought up the photo of her, post- Big Chill. We could be sisters, or cousins who get our hair cut at the same salon.
"No," Ana said. "The girl who was in Silver Linings Playbook and a bunch of other stuff."
" Jennifer Lawrence??" my friend Kathy squawked. Someone spit a drink.
I instantly felt myself getting a little bit pumped up. My ego swelled in direct proportion to everyone's indignation. I mean, honestly, who doesn't want to remind people of Jennifer Lawrence? She's about 17 and has very versatile hair.
Within seconds it was established that it was my voice that reminded Ana of Jennifer Lawrence's voice, because it's deep and I sometimes over-enunciate with undertones of Valley Girl and overtones of sarcasm and boredom. I've always been fine with my distinctive voice, even when it screwed me on national television, where I attempted to be enthusiastic and sounded like a PMS princess on muscle relaxers.
But I was finer with it now that I was being compared to one of the hottest Hollywood stars, someone who could rock a burlap sack as easily as a dress made of fire. I took that compliment and paraded it around for about a week.
I'm hoping my random compliments will catch on. It's easy and it doesn't cost you anything to spread that kind of happiness around. I expect to see more smiles, more happiness, and more people quitting their day jobs to audition for the new Johnny Depp movie.
