Thursday, January 6, 2011

The Laughing Game

Yesterday, and by "yesterday" I mean the last time I wrote, I mentioned the game My Mudda and I invented.  I'm not entirely sure whose idea it was. Nor do I remember the first time we played it. All I remember was sitting on our patio, side by side, and I was in a funk. Then in the quiet and without even turning to look at me, My Mudda starts making this low, staccato, nerdy noise. It was the most moronic laugh I've ever heard. In my head I was thinking "man, she is sooo dumb."  For about 6 seconds, I was too cool, too freshman-in-college-sophisticated and too much in a funk to play with her. But then, because I fancy myself a pretty good fake laugher, joined in to show her up.

It wasn't a minute later that the two of us were wiping tears off our cheeks, and all was right with the world again.  It's not surprising that we would solve our problems with laughter. We come from a long line of jovial folk. I remember one of the last times I saw my grandmother. She was about 92 and was in her bed for the night. My cousin and I went to tuck her in and chat a bit before we hit the town. One of us said something that struck my granny's funny bone and she started rolling around and said "oh, I just laughed so hard, I farted."

The rules of the game are as follows: Two or more people start to fake laugh and try to out-do each other until the first person is crying (or not breathing). That's it.

Once, my friend Tracy of Breezy Point, MN and I might have hit the town a little too hard. We were young, and had nothing better to spend our money on but red paint. I had the feeling that she was probably miserable at work, and probably mad at me for talking her into "just one more" when I knew I would have a nice day off to nurse myself back to "health" on the couch. So I called her at work to cheer her up. The ringing phone probably made her head explode, so she did not answer and I got her voicemail.

The message I left was four to six minutes long. I said "let's play the laughing game." I laughed the entire time. It was a loud, cackling, borderline annoying, could she really STILL be laughing laugh. The only break I took was half way through to quote my granny "I just laughed so hard I farted."   Pleased with my message, I hung up and went back to bed.

The next morning, I pulled into work. Tracy of Breezy Point and I worked at the same resort. I was excited to see her and recount the good times we had a few nights before. I got out of my car, and the mustached guy from accounting yells across the parking lot "Hey Nikki, nice laugh."  I take the compliment and find it curious. I couldn't recount having a conversation with Mustache Guy from Accounting, little lone laughing enough with him to receive such a fine compliment. Oh well. I continue on my way. I get to my desk and settle in. First things first. I pick up my phone to dial voicemail. The first one was from The Chief, the top dog of the resort. It goes like this:

In a not very humored voice - "Nikki, do you need more things to do with your time?" followed by the sounds of some deranged crazy person saying "let's play the laughing game."

No way!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tracy of Breezy Point, MN had forwarded my voicemail to EVERY SINGLE PERSON that worked at the resort. All 150 of them.  I replayed the message. 150 people just heard something about laughing so hard she what????  There's only one thing to do at this point. Hold your head up high and own it. Bear the pain or bear the shame. That's what My Mudda always says. I don't know if that applies here, but it's fun to say while shaking your head side to side like you're full of wisdom.

So the moral of the story is this: When your friend is in a funk, you should play the laughing game with them but not on voicemail.

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