My Love... My Humour… where hast thou goneth?

The past few entrees have been sombre and packed with emotions. Not that they were not good, very enlightening and encouraging as I read it over again, even after 24 hours of writing it. The raw emotion and the essence of my hope and desires all captured in so many words… hahaha… God help me should I want to write a book.

Tuesday I was exposed to an endless list of jokes… some bad, some good. Yesterday Junkie was on a roll… so was MFF (My Faceless Friend). I find them exceptionally sharp and it is good as it makes me think fast – even though I have been known to say really bad jokes… or dig myself into an endless grave.

OK… so I may not have a sense of humour… so if I don’t have one, it therefore has never gone anywhere.

But then again, I beg to differ… cos I have been known to have real witty stuff… esp in my writing. Like this. Er… maybe not.

I would like to think I am very much like Daddy, but then again, Daddy reads a lot of internet jokes and sometimes really can’t deliver them well… OH NO! I am becoming like him! A humourless Geriatric! Hehehe… now what would be funny if he read this! J

I actually think my parents in their own way have a tinge of humour in them. I mean after all they married each other and they are as different as wan ton soup and masala tosai. But knowing culinary psycho-experts like Bourdain would probably try to mix them up and see what marvellous concoction comes up. This even I can tell you – ME lah… DUH! The best of both worlds.

Wait… I refer back to the para before this. I don’t think I am turning into a Humourless Geriatric – firstly I am not a geriatric and secondly I do not repeat any internet jokes. I mean the silly nonsense has probably been circulated round the world almost as many times as Elizabeth Taylor has gotten married so in a room of 10, 11 people would know my joke. And even after this fact, I still choose to repeat my joke, someone might as well shoot me dead.

So what have we learnt today?

By George, I may have a sense of humour. Has it left the building for a bit? Probably has. Probably went to the little girls’ room and at this moment “gravitising” the wall with some should-not-be-repeated limerick.

There was one a man from Madras
Whose balls were made out of brass
In stormy weather, they would tinkle together
And sparks would shoot out from his arse.


Keep up the job, oh Sense of Humour!