Sensing the Humors

So, you know how sometimes people say about someone else "He doesn't have a sense of humor!" and usually they mean "He doesn't find my fart jokes funny!"  Or sometimes they mean "He never makes any fart jokes of his own!"  

That's pretty much what I always thought not having a sense of humor meant, anyway.  Someone who was unable to sense how funny I am.

Turns out there's a whole other kind of person.  This person is lacking in the sense that there are things that are funny.  Incapable of recognizing a jovial atmosphere.  Given to discussing the brain chemistry behind laughter as a social exercise.  This person will laugh because he has found that it is best to participate and then let the laughter fade a bit before he begins a nonsequitor about the construct of race in this country and the historical implications of doughnuts, because otherwise we'd be able to completely ignore him pretending we didn't hear him over our glee.  This person will follow up your hilarious anecdote with the statement "That's interesting because..." and then say something that wouldn't even be moderately interesting if I were a comparative religions major and hated the universe.  

I'm not talking about anyone in particular here.

I'm just saying.

This person should be killed slowly and in some humorous way, like by drowning in pink frosting.

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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com

Way Back... Thursday?

It's my blog and I can write whatever I want on whatever day I want, especially when that just means I want to talk about my childhood on a Thursday instead of a Tuesday because on Tuesday I posted pictures of eyeballs.  

So anyway, I may have mentioned that I grew up in the country, and I had this friend in elementary school (Hi Mandy!  Oh, you go by Amanda now?  That's weird.  Anyway, what's up?)  And she was one of many people who lived on a real life farm, with animals and corn and stuff.  Sometimes in the winter her dad would take the hood off an old junker and hook it up to the back of his truck with chains and he'd drive around in the snow with us dragging behind.  Except for being terrified for my life, that was fun.

And out in the corn a ways, there was this empty silo where Mandy had set up a little play office with a cardboard computer (this was back before most anybody had personal computers, so this was extra awesome good fun).  And there was also a camper in the woods somewhere where we talked about whether Jeffrey Dahmer would break out of prison and come eat us while looking at old issues of Playboy which were more confusing than erotic for a couple of 11 year old girls.

Also, one time I laughed so hard I peed my pants and didn't tell my friend, I just took off my underwear and threw them in the corn.  Was that wrong?

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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com

Dirty South Bidges!

So, over Memorial Day weekend Houseboy and I drove down to Nashburg to check out the city and look for apartments because apparently even though it's warm there, it's frowned upon to live in the park.  We saw trees and flowers:

      

And a downtown that looks like a movie set:

And a building that looks like Batman:

And all in all it was very hot and sweaty and foreign and it scared me and I was glad to get back to Chicago, where it's raining and cold and stinky.  Maybe they could move Vanderbilt up here instead?  We probably have the same amount of shit to move.

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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com

Eyeballs

Last weekend, I took pictures of eyeballs.

The Neurotic Cat (he wouldn't hold still):

The Fat Cat:

The Houseboy:

Nice Blogger:

ANGRY Blogger:

I am my own best friend

So, because I wanted to NOT be doing work while eating my leftover soup and diet coke for lunch today, I decided to organize my hotmail e-mails into folders.  I have "Work E-mail" and "Purchases" and "Passwords" and "Friend e-mail" and "Family e-mail."

So, I paused a moment over some e-mails from and to Houseboy, but threw them into the "Family e-mail," thinking, What's the point of getting married if he's not family now, right?

But then I'm about halfway through all my e-mails and realize that I've been putting e-mails I sent to myself in "Friend e-mail."

So, my husband is family, but I'm just a friend.  

Interesting.

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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com