Four of us brunched together, three were hungover. One of us hoped to amuse the group. (Don't you love how the past tense of 'to hope' intrinsically implies failure?)
item #1:
JS mentioned her parents are having issues at their home with wolves. MG exclaimed her parents are now, too, because while wolves had been hunted in France they had simply gone to Italy but have returned - making these sound like vacationing wolves. So, here's my comment (of which I am obviously still proud) that fell nearly flat to my dearly hungovers gathered together.
"Yes, the wolves came back to France and were all like, 'Ciaooooooooooooowww.'"
[ba da bing!]
item #2:
We were discussing this year's theme for our home's third annual Most Depressing Day of the Year Party.
me: Should we dress only as our favorite people who also committed suicide, or include people we're most happy committed suicide?
[Blank stares. AP pokes her grits.]
nearly unintelligible voice of friend: What do you mean? Like what?
me: Like I love Virginia Woolf and will ever be sad she is gone, but am glad Hitler killed himself.
JS: You could combine them.
[Silence, during which certainly almost no consideration was given to the notion.]
me: Ya, put rocks in my pockets, wear an ugly little mustache and walk around with 'A Reich of One's Own.' [Happy Fragle muppet face!][Return of blank stares.]
And that's why we shouldn't drink.
But we're totally having our party. And drinking. Probably a lot.
But I'm also probably still working my joke into the invites. (Hold your applause.)
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