it's hard to be funny . . .

Here you are, reading a BLOG entitled, too funny, and I bet you're thinking, "this better be funny!" When we started this saga, it was to chronicle our little Group Therapy gang  .  .  .  you can read all about our "criteria" to the left in the sidebar if you are new to this little cyber corner (yes, we have criteria)  .  .  .  and our trip of a lifetime. The beginning of our story detailed our antics in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. There was plenty to find funny about us: 50 year old "girls" without a care in the world, except what we would eat and drink and did we remember to apply or reapply sunscreen. Yes, those were the days! Now, almost a full year after our adventure, I must admit that I am in a bit of a fog about what's next. What can be funny enough that someone would remember to visit or purposefully bookmark us, the too funny BLOG, out of all of the millions of BLOGs out there (could there really be that many BLOGS)  .  .  . 

I offer you this recent story about one of our founding members, Anne. Anne traveled with us to Cabo the only way she could, in imaginary style. You see, Anne doesn't fly. Nope, she refuses to even contemplate the notion. I don't blame her really, it's not my most favorite thing to do either. No, Anne traveled with us virtually. Now you really will have to go back to the very beginning (oddly enough, that's what the first post was called: in the beginning) to read that story in it's entirety to fully appreciate what I'm talking about here. Anne was a member of our travel squad in card not in person. But this particular story has nothing to do with our little imaginary travel companion. Largely because Anne isn't imaginary  .  .  .  she's the oldest, and probably the wisest and without a doubt the funniest member of our troupe. She was only imaginary in Cabo, and it worked for that story. But this story requires no imagination and no passport. It does require a little discretion though. You see, Anne, up until now, has only been photographed as a card, so for today's story, she will still be identified that way. (Hopefully we will be able to reveal the real Anne in upcoming posts)

Hi everyone! It's Anne!

Anne's day started out, off  .  .  .  she recounted a number of events that occurred earlier in the day, that would make someone in Group Therapy pause with a sigh of "what is wrong with me?" For example, she misplaced her coffee cup, only to find it in the refrigerator, and then grumpily set out to vacuum (one of those little chores she absolutely despises) but the darn thing wouldn't work! As she stood staring at this piece of equipment, talking out loud to it as if it might actually try to defend itself, she got so frustrated that she gave it a swift kick and decided to forget about vacuuming altogether. She had stomped on the pedal for it to start numerous times, she had even tried plugging it into several different outlets. "The damn thing just wouldn't suck." Finally, in total frustration, she returned it to the closet, only to find the vacuum cleaner resting nicely where it always is. The vacuum cleaner was in the closet?  The poor device standing next to her, that had endured so much rage, was the hardwood floor cleaner/steamer. No wonder she couldn't get the darn thing to suck! There would be no vacuuming today  .  .  .  

Mid-day, she realized she was out of her favorite guilty pleasure (not counting wine of course), gummy orange slices. You know, those orange colored, orange flavored, gum-drop type of candy in the shape of an orange wedge. Anyway, she left her comfortable abode in search of this most favorite snack  .  .  .  yes she was bored and rather happy to leave the memory of coffee in the fridge and beating up the poor floor steamer  .  .  .  visiting several retail establishments before she found her beloved treat. She landed at Kmart. (Kmart was founded in 1962, the same year of Walmart's founding, and to some, was the first discount store of it's kind)  Like other large discount stores, you rarely leave with only the item or items you entered in search of  .  .  .  no, thanks to creative marketing and "deep, blue-light discounts" Anne happened on a pair of white summer shorts that she just had to have.  (Now, this is where the young, less humor filled personalities should probably stop reading because nothing from here on out will sound funny to you.) 

As luck would have it, her size was prominently hanging in full view so she decided to not take any chances and try the "suckers" on. (Have you ever seen the inside of a fitting room at Kmart? No, me neither  .  .  .  I digress) Bravely, she ventured in to the area set aside to "try on" clothing. Red flags were already flying, but our courageous Anne ignored all signs to DO NOT ENTER and chose to go in to one of the stalls for a quick slip on of these shorts, just to make sure they fit. She hurried in and secured the makeshift door behind her. What happens next can hardly be told without hand-gestures. Picture our dear Anne, with one foot on the opposing wall, her back against the other, calmly struggling to get one foot into the leg of these white shorts that she just had to try on. She realizes, too late of course, that she may have been in a bit of a hurry, while working to get that foot into the shorts, and all of a sudden, the unthinkable happens  .  .  .  she loses her balance. If we were watching this on film we would see the video begin to move in slow motion. Reflexively, she grappled for anything and everything to hang on to, to prevent what she was beginning to realize was the inevitable; she was falling and it wasn't going to be pretty! As the motion slowed, her body, with one foot in the white shorts, and the other, firmly planted on the old carpet floor, fell through the louver doors. In mid-air she let out what surely must have sounded like a loud, feral cry  .  .  .  GODAWMIGHTYDAMN!  .  .  .  before she hit the floor, HARD. 

Seconds felt like minutes  .  .  .  Anne found herself, laid out on the carpet, in the middle of the common area between the dressing rooms. Stunned, she finally looked up to see a young boy standing in shock, staring at her. She composed herself long enough to ask, "where's your mama?" All he uttered was, "in there" as he pointed toward one of the rooms. Wanting to ignore the fact that she was sprawled out on the floor, Anne realized she was probably on her own; was no one coming to her rescue, was this child's Mom not coming out of her stall to see what that BOOM was all about, surely she heard her son talking to this total stranger?  It was then that she noticed those white shorts, that she just had to try on, were still around the ankle that had just been positioned on the wall, before the fall. She was laying on this filthy floor, exposed  .  .  .  her white granny panties shining bright as can be  .  .  .  and this young boy was still standing frozen, staring at the sight that he would probably never forget. It took every ounce of dignity that she could muster, but slowly and surely, our Anne pulled herself up off that floor and re-entered the room she had just dramatically evacuated. The doors, barely still attached to their hinges, swung closed behind her, although less secure than before. JOY! What just happened? Did I really just fall out on the floor at Kmart and I'm still alive? No broken bones (a miracle) and no visible bruises, yet. Just a slow moving pain in the area around her right ear, which had undoubtedly bore most of the weight of her fall. That and her entire right side, but there was no blood, no appendages to gather on the filthy carpet and as she lowered herself to the make-shift bench hanging from the wall, all she could do was laugh and cry. (not really tears of sadness, although there were certainly more than a few acknowledging the pain that was growing; no, tears of hysterical relief and embarrassment and of utter shock!)

Hours later, when Anne was reenacting the drama for me, I found myself laughing so hard I thought I would surely wet my pants. Of course I was relieved that she was okay; relatively okay that is, the pain and ringing in her right ear had begun to pulse and was starting to worry her. But to watch the human animation and relive what was now a humorous event, instead of a tragedy, was pure joy! I wrongly assumed that once she had gathered herself enough to gain composure in the dressing room she would have slithered out unnoticed. "Hell NO" she said. "I sat my granny panties down on that bench, pulled those shorts up to make sure they fit and then I grabbed my orange slices and went straight to the register." (Note to self: our Anne doesn't ever slither out of anywhere unnoticed) "You know how much this near death experience cost me? $11.50! That's it! Sure am glad I didn't end up in an ambulance on the way to some hospital for $11.50!"   Perspective is a wonderful gift  .  .  .  

In true southern style our Anne managed to smile and be friendly to the young woman at register. When asked, "Did you find everything alright?" Anne just said, "sure did and have a nice day." No lawsuit threats, no resentment taken out on this innocent checkout girl. No, not Anne  .  .  .  she simply left the store with the same old fashioned grace as she entered with. After all, she did have her orange slices and those white shorts that she just had to try on  .  .  .  

Until next time!