When is a joke not a joke, or, Get the fuck outta my face!...

My sense of humor is sometimes too dry, sometimes too obtuse, sometimes too “why the fuck did you just say obtuse”…

Here’s an example.

Last night, I was up with Vicky. She was at her computer. She’d just received an email from MySpace; someone had emailed her.

“Who emailed you? Some guy?” I asked. I like to tease Vicky about all her boyfriends. She hates it. She thinks I’m serious. I have yet to pick up on this little detail.

“You’ll see. I’ll open it for you,” she replied, challenging my assertion.

Listen: it wasn’t an assertion. I was just kidding.

So, the email opens and it’s from a woman. It’s obviously a woman. The woman is cute.

“Who’s the guy?” I ask. See, the idea is that she would reply with something like “His name is Vicky” and I would deliver “He’s cute.”

It would have been funny. Vicky would have laughed. That’s not what happened.

Vicky sneered, “That’s not a guy.”

“Who’s the guy?” I asked again, thinking she’d pick up on my wonderful sense of humor.

“That’s not a guy.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“That’s obviously not a guy and why do you keep repeating the same question like a moron?!”

I could tell from the way she was yelling and the way fire plumed from her nose that Vicky was probably not amused.

… nobody gets me…