Stand Up Comedienne
I do not consider myself to be a stand up comedienne. I have my standard list of jokes that I will tell with very little prompting (Did you hear about the terrorist that tried to blow up a bus? He burned his lips on the exhaust pipe.), and I have a collection of bazaar things that I will relate (I'm thinking of getting my feet a)professionally cleaned and b) insured because a day in babysitting land hardly goes by without one of the kids taking off my socks, pointing at my painted toe nails, sniffing my feet, and/or using my feet as a monster truck ramp, etcetera, etcetera. More and more kids seem to be realizing what fun can be had with my feet. Maybe I should start charging a special "Play with feet" rate.), but when it comes down to "Say something funny now" I'm likely to have a mind blank.
That is why it was with some misgivings that I agreed to play a game where every time I lost, I had to say something funny.
Round One: My loss. "Um... so there is this boy that likes to smell my feet..."
I laugh hoping that my laughing will convince my opponent to start laughing, too. It works, but just barely.
Round Two: My loss. "Um... Do you want to see something funny? Look at this great big hole in my sock! And look! You can see my foot! Doesn't that make you want to laugh?" No laugh, just a smallish smile.
Round Three: My loss. (Have you ever noticed that when you let the other person make up all of the rules you tend to lose?) "Bulbous bouffont, muckluck, blubber." Pathetic really, it is only the third round and I'm already stealing someone else's routine. Even worse, no one laughs.
Round Four: Her loss. (Whew! Now I can see how it is done.) "Dogs licking mailboxes!"
Gales of laughter.
And I don't get it.
That is why it was with some misgivings that I agreed to play a game where every time I lost, I had to say something funny.
Round One: My loss. "Um... so there is this boy that likes to smell my feet..."
I laugh hoping that my laughing will convince my opponent to start laughing, too. It works, but just barely.
Round Two: My loss. "Um... Do you want to see something funny? Look at this great big hole in my sock! And look! You can see my foot! Doesn't that make you want to laugh?" No laugh, just a smallish smile.
Round Three: My loss. (Have you ever noticed that when you let the other person make up all of the rules you tend to lose?) "Bulbous bouffont, muckluck, blubber." Pathetic really, it is only the third round and I'm already stealing someone else's routine. Even worse, no one laughs.
Round Four: Her loss. (Whew! Now I can see how it is done.) "Dogs licking mailboxes!"
Gales of laughter.
And I don't get it.
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