Write Something Funny

The above words are the instructions I received this evening when I asked a special someone what I should write about. The conversation came about because I found myself home alone on a Friday evening confined to a shitty couch polishing off 20 dollars worth of Thai food while simultaneously listening to the Red Sox game on the computer and watching Man on Fire with Denzel Washington and Dakota Fanning on the television. (There are jokes about both of these actors that I consider to be layups that I will let you figure out on your own time because I have not reached the point where I need to go to my garbage time humor, yet. Also, I turned the movie off after writing that I was watching a movie with Washington and Fanning in it... talk about a wake up call and a commentary on how low my life has sunken. I think I just judged myself.)

Anyway, while I am sitting on the couch desperately figuring out how to be funny, this someone finds themself at a bachelorette party with the name, Ivana Cumalot, as her code name for the evening, apparently there are name tags involved as well. For the record, the adoption of fake names is something that is a bachelorette party only idea as gentlemen tend to stick with having the ass of some naked stripper with a fake name grinding on their lap instead of creating a fake name for themselves. Further, I would love to make fun of the bachelorette party fake name thing, but the fact that she is wearing a name tag gives her a pass, I mean she is walking around with that name on her name tag, I think she may have suffered enough this evening.

Anyway, so this someone's only suggestion about what I should write was to write something humorous while she proceeded to go out and indulge in all that there is to indulge in at a bachelorette party. I believe they get together, give head to carrots, drink White Zin, get naked, and pillow fight.... atleast for the first hour until the Zin kicks in and then, they all proceed to sob for the next couple of hours and tell each other how much they love one another.

The problem, however, with a command of this nature is that I am not an automatically funny kind of guy meaning that I cannot just sit here and out of thin air create something that would be described as funny. (Some would also say that I am never funny, those people would be either be assholes or my seventh grade class who made fun of me for still having glasses... Just for the record, I got contacts now bitches... and what do you got, that's right, two kids and a mortgage... Eat a dick!)

Instead of being funny on call, I am a conversation and situation based humorist meaning that while people are talking, I am usually trying to figure out what whitty comment I can work into whatever they just said. (Note: I never listen to what anyone ever says to me other than to figure out how I can work a zinger in there.... so if it is really important email it to me so that I can atleast refer to the written word when I need to remember that you are dying of a flesh eating virus.) Now, the problem that this presents is that I am not funny unless I am in a situation involving other people. As such, I cannot be funny while sitting on my couch alone in a semi-comatose state feeling sick off Pad See Yu, Beef Satay, and TomYung Goong. (although I am having great visuals right now.)

The perfect example of this problem was a couple of year's ago when I was in Vegas with my buddy, Jason, from law school. Ironically, this was Jason's bachelor party during which I proceeded to spend so much money on booze, strippers, and gambling that my credit cards (all of them) got locked out by their respective companies two nights in a row because I had reached their nightly limits. (In the interest of full disclosure, never go to the champagne room because no matter how much money you spend ($400), she is not going to catch the next flight back to Hartford, Connecticut to marry you. Also, if you are spending alot of money (another $400), make sure that she spends the entire time giving you a lap dance and do not proceed to waste the majority of your time with her asking her about her entire life story as if you are going to save her from her current career choice. She is making so much more money than you are and is certainly not looking for an intervention.)

Point being, while in Vegas, I was apparently on some kind of a roll in terms of being funny. I mean I was also drunk beyond the point of being able to stand for the majority of the trip, but at the same time, I seemed to be able to say something funny no matter the situation. (At the present moment, I cannot think of exactly what I was saying or any of the jokes I told, mainly because I have smoked enough weed to support the entire country of Bolivia since that time.) Anyway, the streak was continuing nicely until Jason and I went to Caesar's Palace to meet up with a cousin of mine and her friends that just happened to be in town at the time at a hookah lounge located there. Now this would have been a great idea if it was not 2 in the morning after I had already gone to the strip club and lost approximately $200 at a blackjack table at the Hard Rock Casino. (That would be a thousand dollar evening people.) In order to pacify my outlandish losses, I had also proceeded to drink my face off just so that I could feel better about myself or atleast to forget about the losses. It was one of those evenings where you end up places and have zero recollection how you got there. I believe that I flew the entire evening with the help of teeny tiny fairies.

Needless to say I could barely speak by the time we arrived at the lounge, which in true Vegas fashion let me in without even questioning my inability to stand. Somehow, I managed to find my cousin and Jason and I proceeded to smoke the hookah with her and her two friends (I think there were two of them. And yes, if they had been "professionals" smoke the hookah would have meant blow jobs.) At some point, Jason, who was equally shitarded, began to tell them about how I was the "funniest guy in the world" and how I had been "making everyone the laugh the entire weekend." I sat there giggling to myself thinking about how I had been pretty funny and mentally patting myself on the back. This ego boost lasted until one of the girl's who clearly had not drank enough that evening, asked me in a most serious voice:

"Funny? Like how are you funny? What do you say that is so funny? Show me."

At this point, I froze, paralyzed by the misfiring of my synapses who had long ago lost their battle with Jack Daniels and his band of outlaws and did not know what to say... let alone something that was funny. The girls just looked at me, and I stared back at them, unable to say anything. This dramatic pause seemed to last five to ten minutes until thankfully, Jason responded, "He just is" and I laughing nervously turned bright red hoping the conversation would shift to other things, which thankfully, it soon did. (In restrospective, basically, I "Jimmy Falloned" my moment in the spotlight.)

But the story, even though not funny in and of itself, just further emphasizes that I am not funny on call. I cannot dance when you want me to... I don't have a go to schtick... I don't "bath daily" (farley bit)... I can only capitalize on the weaknesses of others... I am an opportunist...who twists the words of others to appear funny and whitty... I am a hack... And now I have been exposed...

So I apologize for not being able to come up with something funny for you tonight.. I guess I will have to think about it and hopefully tomorrow, when I wake up with a full head of steam, I will be able to write something other than the above which makes me look and sound like a true American ass hat... Or maybe this exactly what you wanted in the first place...

Good Night Ivana Cumalot... wherever you may be.