So, I’m IRL girlfriend deficient. I have very few people outside my family who I talk to on a regular basis.
I don’t know, I’m not shy. I think I come off kinda strong, exactly the way my kids do at a playdate to make the other kids shrink back against their mother in apprehension.
Well imagine my surprise when I totally hit it off with one of my neighbors in my apartment complex. She’s cool, not judgmental, polite, funny and generously nice. We are having a lot of fun getting to be friends.
In addition, she has never heard any of my jokes… frickin’ score.
No, you think you know, but you have no idea.
I have a photographic memory for jokes. I remember any joke that I hear or read, even the stuff in Readers Digest. I must have 10,000 jokes and an uncanny gift for delivering them… like an 80 year old man sitting at the kids table at Thanksgiving.
But none of these jokes are suitable for children.
Anyways, she has never heard my jokes. Not a one of them. My husband always rolls his eyes when I begin a joke he’s heard half a dozen times or more, but I love to rattle them off.
And now I have a fresh audience, virginal, untouched, a little bit drunk on this awesome Super Tuscan my husband found for me at Trader Joe’s.
In other words, I’m in my element and on the top of my game.
I tell her the one about the four nuns at the pearly gates. She nearly spits the last of her wine out.
I tell her the new Polish-Cajun restaurant’s specialty dish is blackened toast. She dies with laughter.
I meanwhile am enjoying myself immensely. I give myself a moment for a wry, knowing grin while the punchline takes effect, and then… yes. I laugh at my own jokes. I think they are funny, otherwise I wouldn’t be telling them.
Tears are rolling down her cheeks, my face hurts from smiling and laughing.
As she stands to leave, I take her empty glass and offer one more gem.
“Three women are sitting in the OB/GYN’s office. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead, all heavily pregnant.
The Doctor comes out and announces in a grand voice, ‘I have discovered a new way to determine what you ladies are each having.’ he sweeps across the room toward the brunette.
‘You my dear, what position were you in when you conceived your child?”
The brunette demurely puts a hand over her eyes in embarrassed shyness.
‘I was on the bottom.’ she murmurs.
‘Then you, my darling are having a boy!’ he announces assuredly.
‘You!’ he points at the redhead sitting saucily nearby, ‘What position were you in when you conceived your child?’
She puts her hand on her hip and proudly exclaims, ‘I was on the top!’
‘Then you, honey, are having a girl!’ he says.
Suddenly the blonde in the corner bursts into tears. He flies over to her concernedly, ‘Honey! Dear, what is the matter?’
Between her sobs, she manages to croak out weepily, ‘I’m… I’m… HAVING PUPPIES!!’
This wasn’t the first time someone has wandered from my door, cackling laughter into the night… and it probably wont be the last.