Annie says I’m funny. All the time.
I don’t think I’m that funny. I mean, I know I can be. Like the pubic hair I found in the Motel 6 shower. That was hilarious. And gross. Or the time I thought I lost my work iPhone. Wasn’t too funny at the time, but I can laugh at myself now. Or the time I left my iPod in my shorts pocket and did the laundry.
Oh, I didn’t tell you about that one?
Yep, not too funny at the time. The damn thing went through the spin and rinse cycle and then 45 minutes in the dryer before I found it. You should have seen me doing my Sane prayer in Spanish over my dead iPod. Now that was funny! I never remember the words. Just the first one, “sane.” And then I usually add lib something incomprehensible like, “Hannah, mana, pana.” (The prayer is supposed to go like this: “Sane, sane. Colita de rana,” which loosely translates in English to “Heal, heal. Frogs tail.”
Although I now have an orange shuffle (which scares the shit out of me because it’s even smaller and likely to hide in my shorts againI!) I can’t bring myself to throw my old iPod away. It’s collecting dust in my jewelry box.
I’m a fuck up, and I guess that’s pretty funny. But being funny on purpose is something entirely different. Or at least that’s what I keep telling Annie. She never listens, though.
So, that’s why I got my peelings hurts a couple of weeks back when I asked her about one of my blog posts. What did she think?
“Oh, it wasn’t that funny,” she tells me. “I didn’t forward it.”
So, if you’re wondering what’s happened to me as of late, I haven’t felt very funny. At least not in writing. I’m still doing stupid shit in real life. And, I’ve been writing a lot as my alter ego, Gabby Blunt, the softball drama queen who sees a sexual innuendo in everyday things and drinks way more fruity alcoholic beverages than I can. Now Gabby, that girl’s funny! You can read about her antics at http://TheDLeague.org.
But this wasn’t meant to be a plug.
I guess this is my way (a long way I know!) of asking for permission. Permission to not be funny. Permission to share what I think about shit, even if it doesn’t make you giggle.