Then Somebody Fainted

It took me three passes to make sure I had read this right. Then out poured a hearty belly laugh, which was followed by some giggling. This seemed to happen every time the thought came back in my head. You know, some of those little aftershock bursts of laughter. The same kind that make you look crazy if someone was to see you a few minutes after the punch line had been delivered. You try to explain the joke, but the more you speak the more you seem to confirm their belief in your lack of sanity, and consequently your chances of ever being invited back to their Christmas parties.

I used to assume humor was different for every generation and that I needed to remember my manners for the company I was in. I have an aunt who will give me "that look" if I forget my manners and let my other personality join in the conversation. Have you ever seen "that look"? If you visit this blog regularly I bet you understand. It is that polite yet, slightly confused smile that says, "She was such a nice girl."

*Side note: "that look" is very different from "the look."
"The look" is what you get when you put your new red t-shirt in the wash with your mother's fancy white sweater. Getting "the look" means chances are you will be dead by morning.

To my complete surprise last summer I realized my grandparents have a perfectly wonderful sense of humor. For some reason, they just never let me know it when I was younger. We had gone out to pick vegetables in the garden. I was near the squash and my Grandma was picking tomatoes. After a while, she quietly brought one over for me to see.

"Oh, it's a conjoined twin," I said.
Grandma responded, "I know, Grandpa and I got quite a chuckle out of this pair."

I looked at the tomato twins again and realized I was so blinded by my manners I didn't see that they were quite the pair indeed. They would have been a size DDD on Barbie, complete with perky nipples. I could have fainted. I now know where I inherited my lowbrow humor. I like to picture my grandparents giggling about vegetables shapes like immature teenagers out in the garden where nobody can catch them.