Come Back, Jack, Come Back

I've lost my funny.  I'm missing my humor.  If you see it, please tell it to high-tale itself back to my frontal-lobe.

Even monkey's and apes have a sense of humor.  "If you have any poo, fling it now."

I'm not depressed.  But my mind is so preoccupied with not laugh-inducing thoughts.  Finish the basement.  Get new carpet.  Completely re-decorate (or in my case, DECORATE) my bedroom.  Shave my legs. All these things are essential, mandatory, before I bring a third Neffite into the world.  And I only have 202 days to do it all!  It'll take that long to just shave!

Or could it be that I have completely entrenched myself, yet again, into the war-ravaged south.  Gone With The Wind is not the endorphin producing book you would think...

Things I have found tickling my insensitive funny bone lately, though:

• My cat, Harley, sneezing.  Why is a cat sneezing so funny?  I don't kow, but it is!
• One cannibal walks into the room and asks the other cannibal, "I'm starving, is there any food left?"  The other cannibal says, "Nope, everybody's eaten."
• Kembry talking back to Brett.  This shouldn't bring me as much joy as it does, but I can't argue with results.  Especially when I'm a semi-permenent visitor to "Hormone-ville".
• The Zebra joke.  The ol' stand-by.  I won't share it here, it's too long, but it still makes me split a round-ligament.

Have a happy, laughy, daffy day!

Kelly Out

(And my title reference to the Titantic...seriously?  What's wrong with my brain?  Why would I think of that in conjunction with humor?  Okay, I do find that part a little funny...I'm sick.)