I laugh a lot. That’s just what I do. Unhappy. Happy. Depressed. Manic. My mood doesn’t seem to matter much – nor does the location or timing of the laughter. Something will tickle me and I’ll laugh without a thought as to how appropriate the laughter is. I can’t help it.

I laughed at my grandmother’s funeral. I was very close to that particular grandmother and truly hurt by her death. But then, during a prayer, I heard my cousin L’s then 8 month old son blow wet raspberries in the back of the chapel. Predictably enough, I started laughing. Oh, I managed to muffle it a bit fairly fast. But then I was left with that silent, shaking laugh people do when they try to keep from drawing attention to their mirth. My cousin T, who was sitting beside me, mistook my shaking shoulders and hand over mouth for tearful distress. So she put her arm around me and patted my back to soothe my obviously ragged nerves.

I never told her that I’d been laughing at the baby blowing wet raspberries.

Now, I told you all of that to tell you this.

Last week, my mother bent over a side table beside the fireplace. Unfortunately, she is the perfect height – her head hit the mantle quite hard. Her noggin made quite a loud *thunk* against the wood. It wasn’t bad enough to bruise, but there was a rather large red dent across her forehead for the incident.

So yeah, I laughed. Oh, I tried really hard not to, but that kind of unintended physical comedy is fairly irresistible to me.

Last night I bent over that same side table beside the fireplace and was reminded abruptly that my mother and I are the same height. I now have the same rather large red dent across my forehead.

And yeah, I laughed my ass off.


3 comments on “LOL

  1. pajama momma says:

    Laughing innapropriately is the best ain’t it?

    I was at summer camp when I was 12 and I was hated there. I had the worst time ever. Part of the reason was because I didn’t know what Guess? Jeans and Reeboks were (they were the newest fad, but I went to Catholic school and wore a uniform and hand me downs) I was considered a total dork and admittedly I probably was a total dork.

    Another reason is probably because I was smarter than anyone there. I told the counselors that we should not be playing in the river because there was a lightening storm and they scoffed and told me I was an idiot and the only way it was dangerous to be in water during a lightning storm was if you were in a pool with a light. “Know It Alls” get hated quickly.

    We were at “the lodge” having our daily pow wow. Everyone was in a circle in the middle of the room and I was sitting in the window. I was “the outcast”. I was imagining jumping out that window and running away. I just wanted to go home.

    One might wonder if there was any one thing that could happen that would instantly make my time there worse, what would it be and could it possibly happen?

    Oh yeah, it could and it did. I got gas. I thought for sure I’d be able to sneak it out quietly. I did the old lift the side of the butt up preparing to eek it out.

    Did it work like that? Of course not. I ripped the loudest fart.

    I can still see it. It’s like slow motion. Every head in that room turned and looked at me with complete and total disgust.

    What did I do? I laughed. I laughed so hard and so loud. Everyone just shook their heads in disgust.

    I went home that day.

  2. Prudie says:

    Ha! The eeking thing never works for me when I need it the most.

    Inapropriate laughter is definitely the best, especially when it is unappreciated by the bystanders, but most especially when it it unappreciated by the bystanders who have made you a social outcast.

  3. pajama momma says:

    *sniffs* I still don’t wear Guess? jeans. hhhhmph!

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