Being Funny...

I’m sure we’ve all heard it said that age and experience alters our views on things. As much as I detest and distrust anything dated… for once I have to admit, that whoever said this, totally knew what he was talking about. The views I had, say for example about the place of humor in the world, earlier… a week ago to be exact… have been changed drastically through the experiences I’ve had since then.

 I was never a doe eyed and fresh faced farm girl (trust me on this)… and yet, I had thought (foolishly) that I had some things figured out. One of these assumptions was… everyone likes a funny guy.

There was a time… in days long gone, when I had thought that studying hard was all you should focus on. There was an age when I had believed that honesty was indeed the best policy. And just like those idiotic fancies of the past… this one got shattered as well.

For example… studying hard, as wise as it may sound… will leave you precious little time to do the fun stuff… like bunking a class for a movie or lying about a tuition to go on a date. Similarly… just try and define for whom honesty is supposed to be ‘better’. Would it be better for you? Or would it be better for a couple of hyperventilating parents, breathing down your neck for an explanation of what you are doing in CCD instead of college.

(The ideal excuse… is to say that you had a free period… in case you needed help.)

Returning to my newly dispelled delusion… about the virtues of being amusing (at the expense of one group member per joke…), it would be fair to say that it didn’t really come to a great end. I had an amazing run to be sure… before my eyes were yanked open to my erstwhile folly, but that’s all in the past now (whew!).

Just like the end of all eras… this wasn’t pretty. Just like the day when my honesty was murdered by circumstances they could not have endured (or to be more accurate by a situation when honesty would have gotten me killed) today… was another disaster.

This isn’t going to be a long post… merely a short catalogue of a few sparks from the dying embers of my humor… and more importantly… their consequences.

Here follows a selection of a few of my (many) amusing little anecdotes... judge for yourself if they vindicate my being manhandled....

5. Asking the guy your friend is dating, how he stands the presence, attitude, influence and dumbness of his new girlfriend… making sure that you have a large audience and thus generating a rather decent round of laughter.

It was funny in its execution… especially since the voice (soaked in amazement) and expression (of awe and genuine curiosity) were done right… the error or oversight I made was cracking this joke sitting down (that kind of prevents a quick escape…) and not being heedful of said friends nails. I have four distinct cuts decorating my arms right now that make typing a right pain. It’s probably a good thing… that on being released from her clutches I didn’t follow up with another question for her date. “Bro… considering her nails… your back must be killing you since the night you two got together.” Thank goodness for self preservation.

4. Telling the hot (she’s committed… but when has that ever come in the way of a good time?) newbie in the group… that you’re flattered she’s running after you. Well… she was! I consider the mitigating circumstance, that it was only because I was failing to hear (temporary deafness… it happens) her screams to slow our stroll, fairly coincidental. Back me up here guys.

Anyway, I think my rather witty remark (if also a little hopeful…) should have been taken in good humor… like everyone else did (proven by their laughter… directed at her). I did not deserve being kicked… at least not for that particular wisecrack. As it is… I got pummeled so badly today, I don’t even remember which remark elicited which injury.

3. Declaring that your (possibly) female friend may be a guy (or worse). And when she retorts with a, “No… that’s what you are…” grabbing yourself expressively before asserting your… well manhood.

Spur of the moment reaction that was. Once again… almost everyone laughed. Apart from of course the one that was busy kicking yours truly. Seriously! Any form of pointy toed/heeled shoes should be outlawed… or at least girls (self declared) with temper tantrum problems should not be allowed to come in possession of them.

2. After getting clobbered a few times by the slap happy idiots that persistently fail to appreciate your subtle wit… you tend to try and avoid the next beating. So, I wish I knew what was wrong in saying… “Quit looking for excuses to grab me!” as the next tirade was inbound.

Quite apart from the respite I was hoping for (even if it had risen out of sheer embarrassment), this merely increased the pounding I was already getting. For shame girls! There is enough of me to go around… instead of making a dash for me and trying to snatch whatever you get with your claws… just wait your turn (depending on your level of hotness…). Would you believe me if I said… that this little adage further escalated my physical abuse, when I uttered it?

1. When being forced into a bear hug by the girl that has already caused you the most pain (burnt hair, nails scratches, teeth impressions… and kicks and punches galore)… saying “Please get your boobs off me.”

Ok… a little injury for this one… I may have deserved (but the moment of saying this, and it's reception… was so totally worth it!). Hey… I said please didn’t I? Besides, I had already tried every other way of extricating myself from her embrace. So, I am not that much to blame… perhaps…?

A short evening (wish I could say that it was as fun filled for me, as it was for those whose lives I brought joy to) that left me more bruised and battered than ninety minutes on the soccer field.

But enough is enough… I feel wronged (and ill treated and abused… even molested) that my delicate satire goes so unappreciated by you thick headed dolts. Henceforth, I shall refrain from exercising my jovial nature and prevent amusement from ever reaching your dull, miserable lives. Till I receive a formal apology (and a promise to keep your hands, feet, teeth, nails… and anything else that may be used as a weapon, away from me) for your wanton disregard for my physical well being… me and my humor are going on strike!

(P.S.: This is in no way because I’m scared of getting thrashed again… just so you guys know.)