Warning: strong language. Irrepressible mirth. Reader discretion is advised.
Send in the fucking clown! Oh, wait she’s already here.
Who just uploaded the wrong version of their audio on a super-serious, personal, emotional poem, tripped over their words in the middle, and then made a horse sound before starting the poem over? This fool.
Thank God I can laugh at myself. A giggle-fit was exactly what I needed. Just when I start taking myself too seriously…a crucial reminder: I have oodles of dunce moments! And that’s OK. I wouldn’t be me without them.
Truly tickled by that gaffe. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
That moment when you’re the only one laughing at your own joke and your husband rolls his eyes in annoyance and your kids think you’re a fucking lunatic because you are and you don’t give a crap because that shit was genuinely hilarious! Best feeling.
Some might argue this is what I get. What goes around, comes around, and some such swill. Well, you folks might be right! In my untamed youth, I DID used to laugh at people when they farted or fell down. Like, a knee-jerk reaction. Not out of spite or meanness–pure reflex. The peals of mirth would burst out of me without warning. I felt badly, especially if I saw the farter’s/faller’s hurt eyes, but I really couldn’t help myself.
Once, I donkey-brayed at a younger girl when she tooted in the middle of play rehearsal–guffawed until tears ran down my cheeks–and she was so embarrassed she wouldn’t talk to me anymore; but I had no control whatsoever over those cackles of uncensored amusement. The kids I was hanging with thought I was a total jerkface. I can’t say I blamed them–I felt like a douche for (inadvertently) hurting that girl’s feelings.
Another time, I got kicked out of class by my history teacher because he farted in the middle of lecture, didn’t acknowledge it, and kept droning on about the antebellum period. My shoulders were shaking with the effort of holding back my howls of amusement, which got a couple of other kids chortling. Though I put forth a noble effort, I failed to cease tittering; so Teacher, red-faced, sent me out of class. I hee-hawed all the way to the administration office. Picture a less frightened version of Lampwick in the donkey-morphing scene from Pinocchio.
Ah, well. You can take the sailor out of the sea, but you can’t take the salt out of the fucking ocean.