This Guy Walks Into a Bar …

I once had a friend who called me everyday at work and began the conversation with the opening line of a joke. The joke was always the same, "This guy walks into a bar…" He never got passed the opening line, however, because I would start to giggle, which made him laugh, and we went from there. I never heard the entire joke, he had begun it once while sitting in a movie theater during the movie Re-Animator as a way of helping me cope with the disgusting and highly stressful moments at the climax of the movie.

Yes, I was younger; back in those days most things that made me laugh were some version of an inside joke, a shared experience. You know, those moments where something quite ordinary is funny as hell, and you can recreate the humor of the moment with a friend, even if you can't recreate the story for someone else, they to be there.

The laughter that is the byproduct of inside jokes, shared experiences and all things silly is what keeps us alive. If we have no other fun at all at high school reunions, we enjoy rehashing four years of the teacher who sat in the back of the classroom in the dark sipping from his flask while the history students watched yet another boring and historically accurate movie. Or the day at lunch when my best friend and I "shared" orange drink for a makeshift marriage ceremony as a response to reading Henlein's Stranger in a Strange Land. This was not the same lunch period when the above mentioned orange drink came out my nose, the direct result of a clever quip made by the boy I had a crush on. Many times a laughing jag was sparked by a burrito that I couldn't get into my mouth passed the rubber brands on my braces.

Lately the folks I share laughing experiences with include my own kids. They are making their way into young adulthood, and the hubby and myself are blessed that they are including us in their journey.

For her 17th birthday party, our darling daughter requested a dinner party–a complete sit down at the diningroom table with plates and silverware and beverages kind of dinner party. AND Mom and Dad were invited.

The guests began to arrive around 6pm, we served dinner shortly thereafter and proceeded to laugh ourselves silly for the next four hours. Solid. The one liners were zinging across the table ("That's what she said!") along with stories, banter, laughter, presents, cakes and condoms. Yes, condoms. The girls were putting them on their heads and blowing them up. Those things really do "swell" to quite a size before popping. Knowing that actually makes me feel a bit more secure about the statistics of failure. So does the fact that the kids are so comfortable with condoms before putting them to the intended use, that they can play with them without embarrassment or the need for disgusting or overly graphic jokes. Yes, I have pictures. No, I'm not posting them here. The pictures don't do the evening justice. You had to be there.