Humor Is Reason Gone Mad. – Groucho Marx

If you’ve been with me for a few years, you know I’m in good company on Thursdays. Check out this fantastic group of ladies,  giving insight on various topics.  Click on:

Froggie (Tracey): One frog’s distinct voice on the world around her.

Merry Land Girl (Melissa): Tales of a suburban mom who likes to talk about pop culture, books, Judaism, family, friendship and anything else that comes to mind.

Darwin Shrugged (Denise): Civilized Observations in an Uncivilized World

This week, Denise requested that we write about a trait we find attractive in others. It can be a physical trait or a personality trait.

 

Just a week or so after the little guy had been born, I took this photo:

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It was taken during those painful early morning hours, the ones where your brain isn’t functioning properly, due to lack of sleep. I think I may have just finished a feeding, or maybe I’d been trying to soothe a newborn back to sleep. Those first months are still fuzzy.

My eyes are watery, because we just had a laugh over something. I can’t remember what we were laughing at. Seriously, your brain does strange and unusual things after you’ve had a baby. However, I remember feeling as though the two of us could get through anything, as long as we had our humor to keep us going.

I love humor, all kinds of humor. I gravitate towards people who don’t mind sharing a laugh with me, or don’t mind my loud, obnoxious laugh while we’re doing so. I appreciate dry wit. Suggestive wit. Corny jokes. (My husband is the king of corny jokes). Silly banter. Slapstick comedy. Even when I’m the butt of the joke,  it’s all good. It really is.

I honed my humor skills from family. They tend to run more on the dry side, taking the realism of life and turning it on its heel. Like the time I tried hard to redeem myself after I’d biffed it during a roller blading run. I’d borrowed my aunt’s skates and ran over a patch of dirt.  But, she wasn’t buying it. When she point-blank called me out on my lack of skating skills in front of the family, I told her what had happened.

She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Leaning back, she said, “Dirt. Dirt got in her way.” After looking around at everyone else at the kitchen table, she looked back at me. “Uh-huh. Right.”

My grandmother introduced me to Saturday Night Live during my teen years, starting me on the path to humor righteousness. While some seasons were better than others, I found something funny in nearly every show. I started impersonating Dana Carvey, who would impersonate George Bush and Ross Perot. Dana was my hero, and still is.

My grandfather would often lament about the wayward youth of my time. Like the boys who would wear baggy pants with the boxers peeking out over the top, at the waistband. I don’t think he realized how funny he was when he’d tell me how ridiculous they looked.

Told in a deep, Southern drawl: “I don’t understand. It looks like they pooped their pants and their pants are dragging on the ground!”

Having a sense of humor has gotten me through a lot of stressful situations. Like the time I wore clip on earrings to an interview. I was nervous, just like I imagine most of us get during an interview. I’m still not sure what came over me, but I decided to tug hard on one of the earrings and I started screaming, as though in immense pain.

You should have seen the way the two women looked at me. Then I pulled the earring off, effortlessly. “They’re clip ons,” I said, simply.

I got the job, believe it or not. Luckily, they had a sense of humor.

I think I’ll always gravitate towards those with a sense of humor. It’s an attractive quality in someone, because it means they don’t take life so seriously all the time. And, let’s face it. Laughter feels good.

Just now: My husband is taking a bag of garbage out to the large can outside. The box of garbage bags we purchased recently is a bum box. All of the ties at the top, used to close the bags, have all been defective and don’t allow for us to close the bag. The ties completely break off, become useless.

“I got one!” He proclaims, victorious.

“You got what?”

“A good bag!”

I watch as he’s so close… so very close to closing the bag, and then, BAM. The ties break apart and crumble in his hands.

“Argh!!!!”

We both laugh.

See? You can find humor in nearly everything.

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2 thoughts on “Humor Is Reason Gone Mad. – Groucho Marx”

  1. Awesome! This trait came in third in my list, but I honestly cannot imagine really liking someone who I don’t find humorous. ;).

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