Do you ever come across a time in your life when you just think to yourself, "Man, I am very funny. Like for reals." I haven't had one of those times yet, but I imagine a time when that fantasy becomes a glorious reality.
I have gotten close, like the times I point out the ridiculous connotations that food brands promote. For example, yelling really loud in the middle of the supermarket that Tiger's Milk doesn't really sound that appetizing, wondering aloud what is next, Whale Milk? I have actually been a strong proponent of introducing whale milk to the general public. I mean, think about it, whales are huge, so milk from them will be greatly abundant. Whales are mammals too, so they can't be ALL that different from cows or goats or other milk bearing creatures. We may be able to stop world hunger....err....thirst, with the advocation of whale milk, but I digress.
Other times, I may verge on humor by pointing out something usually pretty obvious, but still sort of unusual. "One of your socks is longer than the other!" is one of my favorites, but when people wear pants, thus hiding their socks from view, I do not get to employ it. At these outbursts, some people laugh, but not enough for me to be funny.
I also like to dance funny, but that just makes me look stupid, so don't ask me to dance.
I believe my best attempt at comedy is found in my random notes that I leave for people around the office, such as this one I wrote for my friend Bry,
"Bry,
If we were lost on a frozen planet I would allow you to cut open my stomach with a lightsaber and scoop out my entrails so you could sleep in my still-warm corpse, keeping you safe for the night. That's how much you mean to me.
Stephen"
True, I realize I "borrowed" the essential first half-hour of The Empire Strikes Back, but I believe this showcases my potential.
Or this one I wrote for my friend Emma,
"Dear Emma,
You remind me of Raisin Bran cereal, only instead of two scoops of raisins, you have two scoops of friendship. Not sure how much a scoop is.
Love,
Stephen"
I am still not sure how much "a scoop" is, but I trust it is a substantial amount for it to be a selling point of the cereal.
Ssee what I mean? While I know you didn't think in your mind, "Wow, this guy is really funny," you maybe chuckled at a point or two along the way. But this doesn't qualify me, at least in my own mind, to be considered funny.
Over time, I have come to realize my capactiy for humor arises out of situations. I cannot create funny on my own. Abundant humor does not flow from me as it does some of my other friends, *cough Jon, *cough. I must have outside aid from the world, after which I pounce on it like a lioness would a sickly gazelle, only the lioness is a lion that is me, and the sickly gazelle is comedic situations.
On another note, I really like the movie Homeward Bound, but it always makes me cry for some reason. Darn you, Shadow. I always knew you could make it out of that mud pit. You ARE NOT too old!
I have gotten close, like the times I point out the ridiculous connotations that food brands promote. For example, yelling really loud in the middle of the supermarket that Tiger's Milk doesn't really sound that appetizing, wondering aloud what is next, Whale Milk? I have actually been a strong proponent of introducing whale milk to the general public. I mean, think about it, whales are huge, so milk from them will be greatly abundant. Whales are mammals too, so they can't be ALL that different from cows or goats or other milk bearing creatures. We may be able to stop world hunger....err....thirst, with the advocation of whale milk, but I digress.
Other times, I may verge on humor by pointing out something usually pretty obvious, but still sort of unusual. "One of your socks is longer than the other!" is one of my favorites, but when people wear pants, thus hiding their socks from view, I do not get to employ it. At these outbursts, some people laugh, but not enough for me to be funny.
I also like to dance funny, but that just makes me look stupid, so don't ask me to dance.
I believe my best attempt at comedy is found in my random notes that I leave for people around the office, such as this one I wrote for my friend Bry,
"Bry,
If we were lost on a frozen planet I would allow you to cut open my stomach with a lightsaber and scoop out my entrails so you could sleep in my still-warm corpse, keeping you safe for the night. That's how much you mean to me.
Stephen"
True, I realize I "borrowed" the essential first half-hour of The Empire Strikes Back, but I believe this showcases my potential.
Or this one I wrote for my friend Emma,
"Dear Emma,
You remind me of Raisin Bran cereal, only instead of two scoops of raisins, you have two scoops of friendship. Not sure how much a scoop is.
Love,
Stephen"
I am still not sure how much "a scoop" is, but I trust it is a substantial amount for it to be a selling point of the cereal.
Ssee what I mean? While I know you didn't think in your mind, "Wow, this guy is really funny," you maybe chuckled at a point or two along the way. But this doesn't qualify me, at least in my own mind, to be considered funny.
Over time, I have come to realize my capactiy for humor arises out of situations. I cannot create funny on my own. Abundant humor does not flow from me as it does some of my other friends, *cough Jon, *cough. I must have outside aid from the world, after which I pounce on it like a lioness would a sickly gazelle, only the lioness is a lion that is me, and the sickly gazelle is comedic situations.
On another note, I really like the movie Homeward Bound, but it always makes me cry for some reason. Darn you, Shadow. I always knew you could make it out of that mud pit. You ARE NOT too old!


