Too Funny

I feel hung over. Like I have been drinking for days. My sides hurt from laughing too much. I call it my too funny moment. One Friday night was Rebecca’s show and ice cream with the girls (when we finally got around to getting there). Different conversations happening all at once. Laughter blending like in with the chatter like a symphony. It sounded chaotic, out of tune, in sync, it sounded perfect. I think I’m the only one who finished her ice cream.

A day later and I’m talking to a far and aways near girlfriend. She’s making me laugh with ridiculous stories of body odor out of control, or was it perfume? Either way I can’t stop the tears of hilarity. I match her with one of my own olfactory woes (guys, don’t wear Axe brand anything). Again, I laugh until my sides ache. Too funny.

I like these laughing moments. I don’t get them enough but I need more of them. Probably my best source for laughter (should we really want to torture ourselves with past bizarre incidents and entanglements) is less than a mile away. I like having her close. Her laugh is solid and true. No fake giggles or coy chuckles. There is no other way to describe it other than to say she laughs with her heart. Just the other day as we weaved our way through the aisles of a craft store she recounted the “limo driver gun story” for me. I couldn’t get the details right for my husband a week earlier, “I don’t know – something about a box of cheap condoms, a gun, two gay men, and a limo driver. I can’t remember.”  I had forgotten the tulips. Just to hear her reliving the story made me laugh out loud. Winding through the fake flowers, colored pencils and skeins of yarn I couldn’t help but have that too funny moment.