I asked my husband what's funnier to kick than a hobo. He said, "I don't know," but he said it a la Napoleon Dynamite, so it cracked me up.
The only thing I could think of was a mime.
Man, I hate those guys.
But upon reflection, I now think hobo-kicking and mime-kicking to be unilaterally side-splitting. Which is to say, not very.
I'm in a lull. My brain is fried from the big secret project Lovey and I are working on (I'll give you a hint: I found a cable, and it weren't no $10, you lying liars!), so The Funny has become a casualty.
Ever try forcing The Funny?
Yeah, it doesn't work so well.
I saw SNL in the 90's. I know.
So, I'm not even going to try. Instead, I'll be holed up in my husband's office all day trying to figure out a certain program on his iMac--*cough iMovie cough*--and giving myself an aneurysm in the process.
Do me a favor, though?
If I bite it today, working tirelessly to bring you a finely crafted epic of YouTube proportions, would you mind remembering me as I was? You know, before I lost The Funny?
That's all I ask.
Well, that, and that my boobs live on in infamy. But that's kind of a given.
They are spectacular.