Tag: humor

Joyful Noise

I love noisemakers; siren whistles are my favorite. They make a happy noise that sounds a little like… a siren, WHOOOOOOPPWEEEEEENNUUUUuuuuuuuuu! I ordered some for the wedding, and was giddy when they arrived. I opened the box and ran my (thoroughly washed) hands through the wealth of siren whistles at my disposal. Then I grabbed a shiny silver whistle for a trial run. I brought it to my expectant lips and gave it a go. The whistle coughed and then responded with a weak, fweeeeee. It sounded not unlike a dying baby seal. They’re so bad that Bryan and I have taken to blowing on them sarcastically.

“I’ve scheduled our appointment for the honeymoon innoculations… fweeeeeee.”

“I can’t wait until Schwarzenegger is our governor… fweeeeee.”

The things actually seem to be wheezing. Of course, now we find them so amusing that we’ve become attached. This means that we’ll most certainly be exiting the church to a chorus of fweeeee.

Wedding Quotes

Me: What about, ” Where there is love, there is pain.”

Her: That’s perfect.

Me: “Three things can’t be hidden: coughing, poverty, and love.”

Her: Coffee and what?

Me: “Three things can’t be hidden: coughing, poverty, and love.”

Her: Pottery?

Other promising options include:

  • Loving a woman who scorns you is like licking honey from a thorn.
  • Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures.
  • What female heart can despise gold?

Copy Paper Run

Office Max has stereos for sale. A customer who’s testing the speakers tunes it to a hip-hop station.

Me: Nothing makes you feel whiter than gangsta rap

Rachel: Gangsta rap in Office Max.

Me: True dat.

Details

Flipping through the invitation book at our local stationer.

Me: These are lovely.

Bryan: Wow. Yeah.

Me: They’re not red though.

Bryan: That was my thought.

Me: But do people really remember enough about the invitation to be surprised that it doesn’t match the wedding colors?

Bryan: No way. I can’t imagine a single person doing that.

Me: What if they do? What if there are entire groups of people sitting around wondering why our wedding invitation doesn’t match our table clothes and the bridesmaid dresses?

Bryan: Come on. No one is going to notice.

Me: I think I might be one of those people who noticed.

Bryan: No, you wouldn’t.

Me: I might.

Bryan: Well then, I think you may be the exception to the rule.

Me: And/or the kind of person we wouldn’t want to be friends with anyway.

Bryan: Ha! True. Let’s get them.

Me: OK.

Light Travel Reading

My girlfriend is looking for a book about marriage, and we find it in the bookstore’s relationship section. It’s nestled amongst several other titles that make us uncomfortable to be seen browsing:

Me: I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me!

L: The Stop Walking on Eggshells Workbook: Practical Strategies for Living With Someone Who Has Borderline Personality Disorder.

Me: How awesome would it be to buy Why Men Don’t Listen for the plane ride, and then just bust it out after we’ve buckled up?

L: That’s perfect. He looks over and you’re reading The Angry Heart and, like, wiping a single tear from your cheek.

Me: It’s almost worth the twenty bucks just to see the look on his face.

Later, in a Barnes and Noble in Delaware, I hone in on the perfect shock-inducing travel reading in the wedding section, There Goes the Bride: Making up your mind, calling it off, and moving on. I find this endlessly amusing. Bryan does not concur.

Eau De Poached Salmon

When I wear perfume, I usually wear lemon verbena, sometimes vanilla. My favorite lipstick tastes sweet and smells like chocolate. Bryan’s mom was getting me some lotion as a gift and asked Bryan what kind of perfumes I like. He said, “She likes to smell like food.”

Expectation

E: Have you seen Igby Goes Down?

Me: Yeah! I loved that movie.

E: Really? It wasn’t at all what I expected. It was such a downer.

Me: Even with the dancer girl in the super-short skirt?

E: Amanda Peet? Yeah. That was good. Still it was like a 180 degree difference from what I expected.

Me: Yeah. Schindler’s List was like that for me.

E: Really?

Me: No.

Forethought

I grab this week’s New Yorker and settle in for a long soak in the tub. When I’m finished with the profile on Noam Chomsky, I set my magazine down and begin to wash my face. After the first splash of water, I realize that I’m still wearing my glasses.