That's some funny Sh*t

I’m funny. 

I can’t say I’m funny in a stand-up comedian kind of way.   I’m funny more in the “What the hell keeps happening to me!?!” kind of way.  Let’s just say that funny just kind of finds me and then I am able to re-tell the tale.   I tend to always have a funny story to share over the office Keurig.  (Ok, we are a modern office and don’t have a water cooler, so no need to use the water cooler reference)  And at happy hour I am sure to come up with some sort of loony tale of something that happened during my day that will have my friends giggling in their Pinot Grigio.  I am never short on stories for small talk and can usually hold my own in a conversation.

Until one weekend at work…  I happened to be working an event where Seth Rogen was spending three days with us.  Since I am always a professional I just went about my business, doing my job and being appropriately social.   Meanwhile inside I was dying to get a few minutes with Seth. I mean- that guy is FUNNY (with a capital F).  I am not a script writer and I didn’t have anything to pitch him, but I still wanted to at least have more of a conversation with him than small talk about our chicken kabobs.

The last party of the weekend was winding down and I was bone tired (Not sure what that really means, but if it means so tired your bones actually hurt – well I was).  I was slowly making my way to the hotel elevator when who do I see waiting for an elevator but Seth and his wife?   Since there was a long wait for the elevator I grabbed a few waters from the Hotel Concierge and shared with the Rogens.  We chatted about college life (the fact that Seth didn’t go to college) and how movies reflect colleges.  This was my moment!  I went to college, I had funny things happen.  I quickly racked my brain.  I shared my funniest memory of college that I swear should be in a movie. 

Set the scene:  A Southern Sorority House, quiet spring morning, just before the first class would start about 7:15 a.m.  Everyone in the house is sound asleep, except the one sister who is studiously dedicated to her business major.  Her petite frame is loaded down with books.  She carries a banana and a cup of coffee in her hand.

Action:  The girl opens the big wooden door of the house, hands full and not really looking at where she is going.  She steps directly into an open Port-O-Potty and screams!   Suddenly the entire house of girls is up and wondering what the sound (and the smell) is coming from the foyer.  Chaos ensued.

Yep, friends, this is a true story.  Some of the members of our neighboring Fraternity decided it would be a funny prank to put a Port-O-Potty on our front door step with its door open so that whoever left our house would walk directly into the smelly hut. 

So, anyway I was able to relay my little scene for Seth on our elevator ride to our hotel rooms.  As he was getting off the elevator he looked at me and said “Wow, you are funny, and that is some funny  Sh*t.”

I definitely appreciated the compliment. (And if you ever see a scene like that in a movie, you can thank me for the inspirational story)

Les Miles, Testicles and One Baby

One day a few years ago my ex-husband arrived at the YMCA to coach our son’s Tee Ball Team.  Most people would think “Oh, that is so sweet”  Nope.  He arrived wearing a bright purple LSU T-shirt with big YELLOW Letters stating “Got Lesticles?”  Umm.. Ok, for one I get the pun, Les Miles, Testicles, Lesticles as in relation to the daring plays the LSU coach calls. However nowhere in America is it ever ok to walk around wearing a shirt like that.  I mean, really?  Who wears that?! And moreover, who wears that to the YMCA Tee ball game?  Needless to say, I asked  him not to wear the shirt anymore.

 Fast forward a few more years to my house last week.  My little man is sitting on the toilet doing his thing, and for some reason likes to keep the door open and have conversations with whoever may be in ear shot. 

“Mom” I hear him say.  “What are these things called again?”  Oh no! I think, what in the world can he be talking about?  The mind of a 7 year old is always an adventure.   

“What things buddy?” I ask him.  “These things, they are testicles right?” 

 OH LORD, NOT THIS CONVERSATION!!  

 “Yes, that’s what they are” I yell from the other room.  “But what do they do?” he asks. 

 CRAP! Why can’t he have these conversations at his dad’s house?  “Um, Buddy they are for when you want to have a baby” I reply.  “But, I have two of them?” he asks.  “Yep, you should have two” I reply.  “But, what if I only want one baby?  I don’t need both of them right?”  “Umm, guess not buddy” I reply. 

 OH BOY! I am NOT ready for the birds and the bees talk yet.

 A few hours later we are sitting around the dinner table with my Mom and Dad.  My Mom loves me and really loves my little man, but every now and then she will question my parenting style, and in my defense my little man doesn’t do much to help my rep out.  For instance my little man loves to take off his clothes and shock my mom, usually he accompanies his nakedness with a song or a little dance – something that will certainly gain a few laughs from the crowd and deep stares from my Mom.  Or he will take on a new accent and style of dress, most popular but also most frustrating for my mom is when Sam gets all ‘ghetto’ on her and turns his head in just a certain way and pulls his pants just far enough down for some sag. 

So, here we are at dinner, enjoying a nice meal when my little man decides to be funny.  He tilts his hat, rolls up his sleeves, and pulls his pants low (Think Bieber at the AMA’s) stands up at the table, throws some sort of gang sign and decides in his most ghettorific voice to ask my mom if she has “Lesticles”.

Really?! Crap!  How the H.E. L. L. did my little man learn about “Lesticles”? 

That shirt was banned from my existence three years ago!  Moreover, why did he decide to bust a move at the dinner table and challenge my Mom to a duel of Lesticles?   He’s all poofed up and proud of himself with his new word and tough guy persona and my mom just sat there giving me the eye.

Let’s just say that I had Sam sit down, poured myself a large glass of wine and prayed he would ask his father about the birds and the bees.