Am I (*Gasp*) Not Funny?
posted in Friends, Family, Et Al., The Kitchen Sink, This Little Blog |A close friend from law school who (reluctantly) reads my blog (only because I send her the link to it practically every day with the demand that she read it) recently emailed me, “I hate to admit it, but you’re funny. At least in writing.” Unbeknownst to me, I apparently managed to be completely humorless during my entire three years in Cambridge (with the exception of that time the wall jumped right in front of me after a night of drinking). It started me thinking. I like to consider myself as a somewhat funny person. No stand up comedian certainly, but someone who elicits the occasional chuckle. Maybe even a guffaw or two. Mostly because I can laugh at myself, don’t mind if others join in (which they all too often do with disturbing enthusiasm), and don’t take too much too seriously. But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m totally and completely self-delusional?
For example, I’ve recently developed a fondness for adding the phrase “and then he kicked me” to the end of any story I tell. I find it hilarious and crack myself up for hours over it. I’m now wondering if that’s akin to the five-year-old who finds using the word “poop” to be the height of comic genius? Poop. Heh. Actually, that’s a classic.
Note: Please ignore this particular entry when evaluating my aforementioned funniness. (This, by the way, is not an invitation to introduce me to the truth! I’m sure this moment of self-doubt will pass quickly enough. It’s a good thing I’m fickle and a little flighty.)