Every so often, a series of events causes me to remind people who I am not really for everyone. I think that I am hilarious. Fortunately, a handful of people agree with me. But also, lots of people would rather take a pass. Let me be very clear here: that’s ok.
I’m sorta like the stinky cheese of funny. I thought about comparing myself to really high-end liquor or some other top-shelf brand. But let’s face it, I’m smelly cheese. To some people, the ones who can get past the smell and have a particular palette, I’m pee-your-pants-funny. But to most people, I’m the section of the grocery store you just keep pushing the cart past very quickly and pray you don’t have wobbly wheel slowing you down.
I’m used to this. My family of origin doesn’t really think I’m clever. For instance, just this weekend, my dad sent a group message to open negotiations for the Jackson Family Christmas gathering. In part, it read:
Dad: Hope you can attend and have fun.
Me, reply: Is the fun required or just strongly encouraged? Is this like black tie optional?
This doesn’t mean my dad is a humorless chap. It just means after 36 previous Christmas gatherings with me, he’s heard my material. He just wants a head count. And really, why is that so hard? I don’t know. But it is.
I make bold assertions on Facebook and Twitter about how I’m no longer going to bother with people who don’t like this or agree with me on that. I’m going for the cheap joke, y’all. It’s a Limburger kind of move. It’s not serious. It’s just a joke. That’s how the Munster people roll.
Trust me, I’m not blowing up real friendships over Elves on the Shelf (even if I really am totally creeped out and afraid of yours). We Brie people stick around much longer than that. No really, have you smelled us? It takes forever to get that out of your house!