Do you consider yourself funny? What role does humor play in your life? Who’s the funniest person you know?
Do I think I’m funny? Well hmm…
Does a Chihuahua run down the middle of the trailer park street with a cigarette dangling out of its mouth?
The answer is yes.
I know this for a fact because I saw it with my own 2 eyes last Wednesday.
This is just how my life goes. The crazy stuff that happens to me on almost a daily basis makes me shake my head and say, “this could only happen to me.” But hey…blog material…there’s always a fresh supply.
I let my freak flag fly as often as I can. I’m a self-proclaimed clown. A real jokester.
See, my mother glares. A lot. At everything. She doesn’t laugh, either. It’s scary. So I decided that I don’t want to be scary. I’d rather be funny. I can laugh at myself, too. Some of the best chuckles I get are at my own expense.
Now, I’m not necessarily one of those “A termite walks into a bar and says, “Is the bar tender here?” type of people.
I roll my eyes at those people.
No, I’m more or less one of those people that have a snappy comeback for everything. Like Bill Engvall.
My husband or kids will ask, “Whatcha doin’?” when it’s more than obvious what I’m doing; like writing a new blog post. So, I’ll shoot back with something along the lines of, “Chasing chickens, can’t you tell?”
I crack me up.
Which brings me to the funniest person I know…
I’m shallow enough to admit it. I’m fall-off-your-chair hilarious. To myself, at least.
I might be the only one in the room laughing at my silliness sometimes, but that’s just because I’m the only one in the room.
Those that don’t laugh at me and my antics were clearly born without a sense of humor gland. It’s located right next to your funny bone at the base of your elbow. To find out if this applies to you, simply go whack your elbow on a hard surface. Go ahead. I’ll wait…
Now, if you didn’t tear up, you’re fine. It means that your sense of humor gland is intact because it cushioned the blow. Or you just didn’t hit it very hard. Or you didn’t even hit it at all, which is also acceptable. If you did tear up, though, you’d better get that checked out by a doctor immediately, since there’s clearly something wrong with you… for whacking your elbow hard enough to cry after some random blogger told you to.
Okay, so I have the maturity level of a 5 year old, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
My husband pouted at me when I broke the news to him that he wasn’t #1 on my most funny list.
He said, “You don’t think I’m funny?” I said, “Oh, sure you are dear. You’re a riot to nerds everywhere. I just don’t speak nerd.”
See, he finds stuff like this to be shoot-liquid-out-your-nose hilarious:
I just stare and say, “I don’t get it.”
Not because I’m not intelligent, though.
I’m just way too cool.