Ten Of The Funniest Things I Think About To Brighten My Day
Friday, July 6, 2012
Well, as it turns out, my stupid appendix decided that while I am sixteen and a half weeks pregnant, this was a good time to come out and nearly rupture. The positive: we're not dead and I suppose as is the usual in writing, these life experiences always make for the best stories. Sadly, this particular post highlights my jerk-non-Christianly-streak. But don't fret new friends; there will be posts a'plenty with all of my life's little humilities. So, I'd like to start our relationship out with honesty because that's how I roll. Ergo, I am admittedly on a lot of narcotics/pain meds and will not risk trying to make more sense than this: I need to laugh (though I don't recommend trying it with two holes in your gut and one giant staple). I'm guessing you need to laugh. So, I write, you read, you laugh. BAM! Just like Emeril Lagasse. Here goes...
Ten Of The Funniest Things I Think About To Brighten My Day
The time when I was five and my mom was determined not to be found while playing hide-and-seek and instead, got stuck under the coffee table. Instead of helping her, I went to her chocolate stash, sat in front of her and ate (all) the chocolate and laughed while she tried to get out. (Don't worry, Divine Providence has deemed that I've gotten mine back MUCH worse than this injustice I caused her. For example, I have four boys under the ages of 6...The bathroom stories I can tell you alone make for a lot of suffering.)
Once when I was ten, I was riding my bike in our ghetto-fabulous trailer court. With the wind in my tangley hair, and the sun on my chubby face, I was beginning to think, maybe this is what models feel like in all the pictures with well, wind in their hair and sun on their faces. When, I flew past a group of other 5th graders, I thought maybe, just maybe, they were smiling because they were having this model-me realization too and--that was the last thought I had for a while because I drove right into our neighbor's ghetto-shed. For the second time in my young life, I saw stars. I believe, that if I saw a chubby little kid swinging her hair whilst riding a bike in a trailer court, and crash into a shed, I'd laugh my ass off.
I picture myself in my favorite outfit in 6th grade: a mustard yellow, brown, and cobalt blue body-suit (if you don't know what a body-suit was, refer to picture), with Luigi-colored green, baggy pants. And, I laugh my ass off.
I think of the time when I first met husband in college and I told him that his name, "Jimmy" sounded like a funny name. And, for no reason at all, I would say, "Jiiiiimmy...Jimmyyyyy" in a Pee-Wee Herman growly voice, with a Pee-Wee Herman laugh, every time he was turned around. I did this for a solid month. The guy was a statue and never showed annoyance until, I yelled it in his ear in a Pee-Wee Herman voice. Then he was angry. Really angry. That still makes me laugh out loud. Especially because, I don't know who'd have the patience to marry someone who talked to them in a Pee-Wee Herman voice.
I think of the time when our oldest, Michael, was only one year old, and we had this toy-remote control that made this slipped-on-a-banana-peel-like-in-Looney-Tunes noise. One night, my husband was angrily picking up the living room because Mike wouldn't go to bed and I'd "fallen asleep". (Wow, the more I read these, the more I wonder how I got married.)Anyway, I saw Jim step on the toy remote, activate the "slip-on-banana-peel" noise and watched his legs nearly go over his head. My cover was blown when laughed out loud in hysteria and, we both laughed so hard we cried. Then, he was maaaad I had actually been awake.
Once again, feigning sleep: When I was in college, my mom was married to a crazy man that in my head to this day, I diagnose him with Douche Bag NOS (Not Otherwise Specified). He didn't want to let my sister and I hang out because we "laughed too loudly." We heard his heavy body pounding down all three levels to the basement and even though our bodies were shaking with suppressed laughter, we shut our eyes pretending to be asleep. It was dark and he shone a flashlight on our faces and said, "SWELL. You're asleep. I better not hear another PEEP!" and with that first heavy step on the stairway, he farted. Like, MAJOR big man fart. My sister and I laughed ourselves off the couch, and didn't even hear what he was yelling about all the way back up the stairs.
When my aunt was in the hospital for the birth of one her children, my sister and dad and I waited impatiently in the family waiting room. There was a playhouse that looked like a tree-house, complete with a faux-fox hole for kids to squeeze themselves into. My sister was misbehaving and my dad glared at her with daggers and said, "If you don't get back here RIGHT NOW, I'm going in there to get you MYSELF!" All I could barely see were two pig-tails furthering themselves to the back of the fox hole and heard a muffled, "You can't, you're too FAT, Daddy!" I watched in horror and awe as my dad dove toward the fox hole, lifted the entire tree house (complete with all other kids running back to their parents, like an ogre had attacked NeverLand), and pulled her out by her pig-tails. Maybe this isn't funny to you if you lived in a healthy, non-psycho-traumatic home, but think not so violent, and more just, laughing at a bad parenting moment, and a sassy-pants kid.
I'm sure he's gonna be pissed about this (though he'll say he's unashamed) but I convinced my brother when he was 10, that for his boy-scouts trip to Water World the next day, that my mother had failed to find trunks, so he'd be wearing a Boy Suit. I told him a Boy Suit (which is of COURSE, made up) was the new thing for boys, and that it was a swimsuit with boyish colors. I said, "Zachary AARON--you'd better wear it because mom spent A LOT of money on it!" I gave him my best big-sister glare. He stammered trying not to cry, "W-well, is it at least...b-blue??" I shook my head sadly, "Nope. The bow is red. The suit's black-ish-purplish." He threw his hands up. "BOW?!" He stormed up the stairs yelling, "Maaaaaam!!!!" My mom of course, was confused and handed him his trunks and he chased me all over the house yelling, "I HATE YOU!!" throwing shoes at me.
I think of this one day in college when my two best friends and I drove all through Greeley in my white Geo Storm yelling to people on the street, "THUMBS UP! ATTENTION EVERYONE: IT'S THUMBS UP DAY!!! That's right! Get 'em up get em' up! YOU SIR--THUMBS UP!! YOU MA'AM--GET THOSE THUMBS UP!!!" It seriously made people really happy.
I think of just yesterday, when I tried talking to our Parish secretary and she came in on the part of my conversation with kids, and only heard me yelling, "MATTY! Nuts are dangerous--NEVER put them in your mouth--even if someone else gives them to you, that doesn't know that they make you sick!" Yeah; I'm special.
Moral of the Story: laugh recklessly and, there are always more things to make you laugh. Just ask.