Tuesday, June 5, 2012
I've always thought I was funny. I've usually been wrong; leaning more towards loud and obnoxious - but when I see a stand up act I wonder if I could do that. Probably not, but it be fun to try some time. So you start mentally running through what your routine might be about: airplane food, life in urban America, how southerners mispronounce words, if all else fails I'll just smash fruit with a sledge hammer. But it's become quite obvious these past 3 years why comedian's who talk about their families are so successful (Cosby, Ramono, Engval) .... there's an infinite trove of material that comes out of the mouths of your kids. It's like they write this stuff for you! Last night I'm putting the girls to bed and with in a span of 5 minutes I feel I've got enough stuff for an entire opening act. The girls reluctantly go down and about five minutes later I hear Arianna up and crying. I run out to find her in the living room and she's screaming about an owie. I sit her on the bench and ask her where; "MY TOOOOOEEEEEE!" Which one: "THIIIISSS ONNNEEEE!" And how did you get the owie? "SIISSSSYYYYYSSS HAAAAIIIRR!" Wait. ... what? How did you get an owie from Sissy's hair if you were in your bed going to sleep. Suddenly her cry stops dead cold. The "oh shit" look sweeps over her face. ... she's said too much. She then softly stumbles through the part where she was trying to climb in to Sissy's bed. Right. We're good then? Yeah, we're good. ... back to bed, no more crying. As I walk her in to the dark room Genevieve suddenly bursts from her bed and screams "SURPRISE!" I about have a heart attack. I look at her like "what the..." and she explains "me surprise you Daddy!" Yes, yes you did; but it's bed time. Not time for surprises. She explains "no, me surprise you by making you come into my room." She's beaming with pride, like somehow she's harnessed the powers of the universe and gained control over my physical actions, forcing me to enter her room against my own will. I tuck everyone back in and kiss them goodnight. Genevieve pulls me close and whispers "Your beard is making me itchy." "OK," I reply. "You need to go to the bathroom and get your white beard on to shave it." "OK," I reply. It's not until I'm walking out the door that I realize she's talking about shaving cream; my first thought was she wanted me to be Santa for some reason. She must have watched me shaved and that's the best she can describe it; a white beard that removes the old beard. I close the door behind me and I just start laughing. Maybe it wouldn't be very funny if I recounted this to a group of paying audience members, but to me this stuff is hysterical. ... every moment with them is pure entertainment. And there's not even a two drink minimum. Well. ... most nights anyway.
at 7:44 AM