Bring Da Funny

I am totally jealous of funny people.

People that you work with that constantly and consistently bring to the table of humor a veritable bag of chocolatey goodness. These people are few and far between, but, they are at every workplace.

These are the people that can blend a homestyle narrative with a little flare and absurdity that makes it fun to listen to. I could listen for hours on end about a disastrous canoeing trip on the Boundary Waters (thank you, George) in which every moment was wrought with one misstep after another (of course, the trip wasn't really as bad as it was made out to be, but what fun would that be for the audience?). On the other end of the spectrum is the person who thinks that they are funny but really aren't. The send ups are long, drawn out affairs that usually end with a cliched punchline and the phrase “I guess you just had to be there”. These are the cretins that find the internet a treasure trove of great stories that they can co-opt into their own experience. You-Tube is a gold mine for these people. No, I find these people quite tiresome, although others find them richly entertaining. I'm not sure how much more of a bad Will Ferrell impression I can take before I find myself face down in a pool of my own vomit (someone else's vomit might be taking things just a little too far and a little too gross).

My girlfriend Becky has created/invented/mastered the art of the “car crash story”. To an untrained listener (I do not claim to be trained, but I know what I like to listen to) these stories may seem to have no point, go nowhere and sound like they should end with the phrase “So, I guess you just had to be there.” But, that would be a disservice to the entire complexity of the entire piece, as a whole. It would be akin to calling New York, California and Texas the United States of America while dismissing the other 46 states. No, you must appreciate these humorous bits for what they are. I call them “car crash stories” because of the way they happen. They are typically accidental in nature and come up during a normal course of conversation. The start out slowly, kind of like a car cruising down the interstate. Take in some of the scenery and buckle up because things might get a little bumpy from here on out. All of a sudden, the car picks up a little speed and now the other cars and trees and yellow lines are coming at you a little more hurriedly. The driver, although still in control, is starting to realize that things are going a little bit quicker than before (filling in detail, backtracking to cover gaps, over describing parts and underdescribing other parts, etc.). All still very controllable until the gas pedal is frozen to the floor and the car takes off wildly. The steering wheel becomes one like it's attached to the Pole Position arcade game where you can spin the wheel freely with little to no effect on the destination of the car. Veering left and then right, unsure of how this ride will end, it all comes to a complete stop. Done, over, just like a car hitting a tree. It is a marvelous feat of story telling. You are left hanging yet you don't feel gyped or ripped off. I experience one of these, oh, I would say, maybe, once a week. And I look forward to them, even prodding her to tell me another story in the hopes that the next one will be a “car crash” one.

I do not find myself to be funny in a grandiose sort of manner. I like to try and be subtle or randomly absurd. But, via Facebook and other social media outlets, other people also like to be random (the phrase “that's so random” is one that should be out on the curb with the broken down dresser just waiting to be thrown into the nearest landfill). It is a daft skill to be random without being random. Random for the sake of being random is boorish. Any goof can insert a “I wonder how many pancakes it would take to shingle a doghouse” into a conversation about the looming troubles the US is in if it does/doesn't raise the debt limit in August. A good randomizer will drop into the equation something, that, on the surface, sounds like it is completely random but in all actuality is, in fact, tied to something within the conversation. Whether or not one is to ascertain the connection to the seemingly randomness of the statement or not, it is a bit of a game. In this game, I am but an amateur to many brilliant people out there. I know this and will conceded the point.

So, how many pancakes does it take to shingle a doghouse? I guess the world will never know.