broke my funny bone

something has been bothering me lately: the realization that my life isn't as funny as it used to be. i'm not entirely sure why this is, but i suspect that some of is has to do with the fact that my cousin beth and i are not as inseparable as we once were. somehow we were always getting ourselves into these tv sitcom situations full of slapstick humor and too many bodily function jokes. we used to do things like give each other hickeys on our arms and then convince my mom that our boss was hitting us with a paddle ball at work every time we were caught talking, leaving the bruises on our arms. or we were cutting class to go to the science building and play frisbee with kitchen pot holders that beth inexplicably kept in her bookbag. or we were making bets where the loser would have to snort really loud in class the next morning during rollcall when it was totally silent in the room...

(FYI: the loser, and in effect the snorter, was me.)

but it can't be just this, because life still doesn't seem as funny as it used to be even when beth and i ARE together. did i lose my funny somewhere along the line? did i grow out of it? why did i used to have an online diary that was entertaining enough that perfect strangers began to wish they knew me in real life? (hi, dara!)

i was just going through said diaryland diary and i became even more depressed about the state of affairs and the lack of funny these days.  i guess i should just be thankful that i can look back on a time when life was, indeed, funny and appreciate it for what it was. beth and i would still like to write a book based on "the list" -- a list we began compiling back in 1994 of everything we think is funny. EVER.

but damn it if i didn't wish we still did things like make dainty cucumber sandwiches and show up at a random friend's doorstep to deliver them, or create new words for the english language like personal nasty.

personal nasty: noun. a fart that only you can smell.