Humor is a reflex for me. Just whack me on the knee, and I tell a joke. Hahahaha! Okay, so that was a bad example. But coming from my family, there was really no way you could survive without a sense of humor, and a pretty black one at that.
On Mom's side, my family is hilarious. At least the women are. We mostly marry strong, silent types, but the women are real crackups. I used to go out with all my cousins for our birthdays and would laugh so hard my stomach would hurt. Holidays are a riot - we sometimes have crazy white elephant gift exchanges where people wrap up crazy stuff and it actually turns in to a competition as to who can have the funniest gift. Seriously. We give out prizes. (My mother once wrapped up a dirty shower curtain. My cousin Raymond opened it up and had absolutely no idea what to say. The horror on his face, however, was priceless. It was a really dirty shower curtain.)
In my father's family, humor is necessary to deflect the cruelty. (Keep in mind I haven't seen anyone from that side of my family in seven years, but the memories are etched in my brain.) His family was really mean, making fun of everything about a person, from your clothes to your hair to your manners. If you didn't have a quick mind and a sharp tongue, you were dead meat. One of my aunts once said my mother would never need a weapon as long as she had her tongue, so she fit right in. I used to dread going to family gatherings there because not only was everyone mean, but the food was terrible. (And if you know me at all, you know that the only thing I love as much as a good joke is a good piece of cake. Or cheese. Or meat.)
So, growing up, I was exposed to a lot of joking, both good and bad. When I was in high school, we would sometimes have dinners at my house where everyone was laughing so hard, no one could eat. My mom's specialty was to invite over a boy who was interested in me and then subject them to all sorts of horrible statements, just to see how they'd hold up. Her favorite was to spring on them that the space program was actually staged in a pole building in Utah and then see how they reacted. One of my boyfriends wanted to go into the service and he was convinced the CIA was taping our house just to trip him up in the future. He's in the Air Force now. Maybe I should send him a tape?
My dad, on the other hand, was a truck driver, so he had lots of dirty jokes to tell. I remember my freshman year of high school I had a new joke to tell at lunch every day. I eat lunch, then unveil some terrific joke about nuns or penguins or priests or Mexicans.
And I guess that's how it started. I got a lot of attention and respect for being funny. And I'm a Leo, so attention and respect are my stock in trade. I can tell a story, tell a joke and crack wise with the best of them. I'm quick on my feet and not afraid to make fun of myself, too, which helps take the edge off. Women tend to like funny women who are self-deprecating. Men like funny men who are other-deprecating. It is just a fact of life. And because I'm not a supermodel, an athlete, a genius or a deadly weapon, I have to have something to set me apart. (I'll be honest, I'd rather be considered a deadly weapon. Can you imagine the power?)
So humor is, truly, my reflex. When I'm angry, I make sarcastic jokes. When I'm sad, I tell jokes to help snap myself out of it. When I'm nervous, you can't get me to shut up and I'm sweating bullets to be funny. When I'm in the hospital, I'm a riot. The more stressed I get, the funnier I tend to be.
But there is some pressure inherent in this behavior. When you are known for being funny, it can create a stress of its own. After I write this blog, for instance, I have Tony read it and if he doesn't laugh, I worry all day that my writing has fallen flat. When I was still in Mary Kay, if I had a class that didn't roll around laughing at me, I knew I wasn't going to sell much. Sometimes, I'll walk into a situation and realized I'm not the funniest person in the room and be disappointed. I'm competitive even in my funniness. This is sad.
So, if you didn't laugh today, please lie to me and chuckle at least a little. (I'm talking to you, Tony.) I'm having a sad day, and this is the best I could do. Tomorrow I promise I'll talk about the dog who is currently using the entryway to my house as a chew toy. It's HILARIOUS.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment