I have a sister that’s a year younger than me, and she’s seriously the funniest person I think I’ve ever met. She’s just so quick witted! In the matter of a second, she can come up with about six hilarious lines about one not-so-funny thing. And it never gets old! The girl could go on for hours about the same thing and have me cracking up the entire time.
The other day I was thinking about this, about how jealous I am that I’m the opposite of funny. It’s just unfair.
I mean, sure, I have better social skills than my sister. She thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to blurt out every single thought to anyone and everyone, no matter how offensive or embarrassing it may be. She thinks it’s okay to offer to smell someone’s armpits or feet for no reason. She thinks it’s okay to hold our baby sister in public, all the while mentioning in a loud voice that the child is hers. And so on. Me, I hold back to keep from offending people who are bigger than me and those who have the potential to cause me physical harm. I usually keep my nose and other body parts to myself. And I try not to earn judgmental glares from people who think my baby sister is my child. But whatever.
I also keep better grades than my sister, who recently has decided that school is worthless and will get you nowhere in life. Do smarts outweigh being funny? I doubt it.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve actually told a few jokes that got people laughing. The irony of those situations is that when I tell those funny jokes, I’m only repeating the jokes my sister has told me. Whenever I try to make up my own, I get blank stares and disappointed shakes of the head. People usually walk away, too.
I sometimes say something a little ditzy that gets some laughs, too. And since I’m a total klutz, I have a tendency to walk into walls and doors and poles and trip over my own feet. People laugh at klutz-happenings, also. But tripping and blurting out something dumb doesn’t make me funny. It just makes me look like an idiot.
So I guess what I’m getting at is that I’ve decided there’s nothing I can do about my lack of funny. I’ve accepted it and I’m moving on. Kind of. I still steal my sister’s jokes and repeat them to others, just so that they think I’m funny. Maybe one day I’ll gain some ability to tell jokes improv-style, but I doubt it. For now, I’ll stick to repeating jokes, tripping over my own feet, and asking why I can’t pull the push door open.