It's no secret, I'm not "normal". I like to laugh, I (quite obviously) use humor to help deal with things. When I get together with my daughters (Kat, 23; Christine, 19), we usually end up cackle-laughing like big, goofy doofuses. Even with my son (Jason, 20)- we go off on bizarre tangents that make no sense to other people. He does voices, I do voices back. He has this one voice that I find hilarious and never get tired of hearing.
This was done in one take and completely off-the-cuff.
And my mom was the same way. When she was with her sisters, nobody was safe. The laughter always killed us and we always loved it.
A couple years ago, my mom was on IV antibiotics following a surgery and three times a week, a homecare nurse came over twice a day to give her those antibiotics. And the rest of the time, my dad did it. I was the backup-backup person (being that my dad was the "backup person"), so I had to learn how to do it. I seriously took notes because I didn't want to screw up the steps. One of the steps was to swab one of the doo-hickey thingies with an alcohol pad for a certain amount of time (don't worry yourself, those are technical terms). Anyway, we're sitting there, Mom is looking at me, because where the hell else is she going to look? I was sitting right in front of her. So, I started up with: "So I says to Mable, Mable, I says..." and that was it, we were off... we did an entire conversation about Mable, her husband, some other woman that I think was Mable's sister and "the ladies group from church" (I don't go to church and at that time, Mom wasn't either). We were even doing it in our best Midwestern "Fargo"-esque accents.
The nurse was aghast that we were having such a conversation in front of her. She thought it was real. Of course, soon she was taking part in the absurdity, because what else can you do?
So, today, among other things, I picked up a pair of slipper socks. It turned out to be two pairs of slipper socks, one pair is red, one black. Well, of course I'm wearing one red sock and one black one.
Upon seeing the state of my footwear, DG said in a scoffing way: "Gawd, you're weird."
Me: "You married me, what does that make you?"
DG: "I dunno, but I'm not weird!"
Me: "It makes you lucky. Do you know how BORING 'normal' people are? Yeah, think about THAT!"
Just before I started to type this up, I said: "Hey, you told me I was weird, right?"
DG: "Yeah, you are."
Me: "I'm weird... but you're the one who came up with rats and their little Nike shoes."
DG: "Hey! That's a true story!"
Well, it must be, because you read about it on the Internet.
By the way, wearing one red sock and one black sock isn't even the weirdest thing we've done today. We did the heavy-metal headbanging to a song while driving around and doing our usual payday errands.
Big deal, you say? The song in question was "99 Luftballons". Yeah, the German version. And to prove that we were indeed being badass heavy metal beasts, I texted this photo to my friend, Erik. We were already having a text-conversation, so it wasn't quite as random as it seems. Don't worry about Erik, he gets us. He's pretty much one of us.