Funny... Maybe

Sense of humor is a gift. You either have it, or you don't. I don't. Or maybe I do, in parts, and I have no clue that I do. That's a very strange situation to be in. It's like this usually. You utter something, and everyone erupts into a fit of laughter, and you are perpetually left to wonder whether it was what you said that got the chaps around you to laugh, or was it that you looked stupendously stupid while saying what you said. To make yourself feel a little less confused about your situation, you think to yourself that you are finally turning a little funny. A little maybe.

I go about watching stand-up comedians on Youtube. I do realize that a lot of people go about doing the same thing. So it wouldn't help my case if I were to say that I'm trying to understand what makes these people funny, at least the ones who are funny. They talk about politicians, weird government policies, apparently recent developments, about which I have not a clue. Not a big fan of the newspapers or news channels. Specially when you have this one character shouting at the top of his voice over irrelevant issues, that have absolutely no bearings to your existence. Dad says that I should read the newspaper everyday. It's important for giving interviews, apparently. Hehe.

I guess I have an idea of what's funny. Truth is funny. It has a way of becoming starkly, and darkly and darkerly serious. For instance, here's an irrefutable truth. Ladies aren't funny. That's completely besides the fact that they suck at driving. I know that for a fact, because I've seen my sister while she was trying to learn how to drive. And more so, half the traffic jams are caused by a woman with poor sense of direction, who forgot that the left she was to take was three lefts behind. Women and sense of direction never went hand in hand, as far as evolution goes, I suppose.  I'm turning into a misogynist. 

Five minutes ago, my sister said that she wanted to buy a Kindle because she likes the screen savers on my Kindle when it is in the stand-by mode. I told her to buy a photo frame instead. I have a bum sister. She read this line and shouted "Shut up, bitch" so loud that the lady from the floor above came running downstairs to ask what had happened. Not funny. 

Back to truths. There is a way to make truths sound funny. That's probably true for everything that can be said. But anyway...

You see, if I tell you that I put a lot of my time, effort and peace of mind into pursuing a woman, who eventually went and had sex with some douche bag, it would sound like I might start crying any moment. If I look in the mirror, I'd look like this...

That me? Shit!

 And the douche bag must look like...

Yeah, screw you too! Literally!

And guys aren't supposed to get emotional. Alas!

I'm still confused if I'm making fun of my predicament, or that I'm bitter about it. What a confusing predicament. And now, I'm losing my stream of thought.

Sometimes, it is rather disturbing to realize the pettiness of things that get to us. Let alone the pettiness of things that get to me. Let me stop behaving like the world revolves around me. I know it does. But so do your, his, her and their worlds revolve around yourself, himself, herself, and themselves, if any of that makes sense. 

Two chaps made me cry when college got over. One was a guy who, for some reason, could never stand straight. He's 22 and has a hunch. The second chap, I'm too close to. Not like we've had anal sex, but we are very close. And I have o clue why I mentioned these two chaps. Maybe it's because I wanted to tell the world that I haven't had anal sex. Not that I'm anywhere close to wanting to have anal sex. I don't like the idea of having my boner covered in shit. I know I'm getting too graphic. But there's more to my imagination than meets the eye, apparently. I wonder if it has ever happened that someone took a shit while having a dick up his/her/someone's arse. Now, my thoughts are getting disturbingly sexual. I wonder why.

But think of this. So much has happened on our planet. Things that are probably beyond our piddly imaginations. Or at least, 99.99 % of what we have imagined so far, has already happened, let alone some guy/girl shitting on a chap's penis. 

That could well be someone's idea of a fetish, for all anyone knows. Cringe worthy! Another thing. If you have an idea that belongs to that 0.001 % of our un-manifested imagination, and haven't made SHIT-LOADS of money out of that idea already, entrepreneurship ain't your thing, buddy.

Imagine. each moment is a Pandora's box of possibilities. A multitude of parallel universes stem from each nanosecond that is passing. So from some universe, where you or I, or both don't exist, there could be another universe where what we are, could be left purely to our imagination. Crazy, right? Point being... Well, there's no point to this. That's what happens to your thoughts when you read books like "Crisis on Infinite" earths and "Parallel worlds". From anal sex to parallel universes. What a jump! It's as if someone's arsehole was a wormhole into another dimension. Wow! Did I just say that? That's about all I can think of after each line I write.
I'm still coming to grasps with the ability of the human mind to conjure up so much of everything. I doubt any one of us shall ever completely come to terms with this ability of ours.
The most I can hope  for, right now, is that the 30-year old version of myself from the future doesn't dis-own me for what I write. And that's not the best situation to be in.