You Gotta Laugh

For obvious reasons, as I think back on my husband’s heart attack last weekend, I choose to focus on the funny parts. I did plenty of crying and screaming already. Now, laughter seems like the best option.

Memory #1: I arrive at the ER and am led approximately 2.5 miles through endless, winding corridors to a friendly person who lets me know I’m in the wrong place. I’m then led back to where I started and given a new guide who walks me another 2.5 miles through a different maze of corridors to an empty waiting area where I’m told to sit and await further instructions. I sit and think, Well, I guess I live at the hospital now. Because I will never find my way out of here.

Memory #2: A friend I texted earlier calls while I’m talking to the cardiac surgeon. When I check the voice-to-text interpretation of her voicemail, part of it reads: “It’s just a glitch, and his wife is dead.” I am? I think. Sheesh. What a way to find out. [Note: She actually said, “It’s just a glitch in his life, and…yeah.”]

Memory #3: A nurse is sent to collect me from the waiting area and bring me to JR in the ICU. He introduces himself, explains he was part of JR’s surgical team, then asks, “So, can I call you Mrs. Fox?” I want to tell him he can call me Mrs. Fox if he really wants to, but my name is Kelly Wolf. Instead I say, “Kelly’s fine.” He just helped save JR’s life, after all. He doesn’t need to be subjected to Mrs. Fox’s snarky attitude.

Memory #4: I reunite with JR in his hospital room. He’s pretty freaked out but also on lots of drugs, so he’s in relatively good spirits. There’s a nurse in the room asking questions, and while she records his answers on a computer, JR asks me if I’ll go get us burritos. I don’t reply. He then asks the nurse if I can get us burritos, and she gives me a stern look, as if it were my idea. She then provides a lengthy lecture about the heart-healthy diet JR needs to follow from here on out, which should *not* include burritos. [Pft. Whatever. That woman clearly didn’t know who the hell she was talking to.]

The nurse concludes her battery of questions and leaves. A few minutes later, another nurse comes in, and JR asks him if he can have something to eat. The nurse says he can probably dig up some graham crackers. He then says (and I swear this is true), “But later you may want to have your wife go pick up burritos or something. The food here is really bland.”

😲

But the funniest thing by far, out of all the absurd circumstances surrounding this traumatic event, is the sign posted in the dance studio where it happened:

I guess some folks take that guidance literally.

Inappropriate Joke Time

A dear friend told me this joke many years ago. I usually forget jokes, but this one has stuck in my head for decades, likely due to its stellar first line.

[Disclaimer: This joke is downright inappropriate. Over its relatively brief span, it manages to cover child molestation, infidelity, and the intentional spreading of infectious diseases. Is it gross? Yes. Does it make light of truly heinous acts? Absolutely. But I don’t care. I still like it. Are you easily offended? Then don’t read this. Click away and save yourself.]

Okay, here it is:

A little boy walks into a whorehouse with a dead frog on a leash.

“Hello, little boy,” the madam says. “May I help you?”

“Yes,” the little boy replies. “I want an hour with your dirtiest whore.”

The madam gives him a strange look. “All right,” she says, “but we do have clean whores here. May I ask why you want a dirty one?”

With a nod, the little boy replies, “From what I’ve heard, dirty whores have lots of diseases. If I have sex with one, then I’ll get all the diseases, and when I go home and have sex with the babysitter, I’ll give her all the diseases. The next time the babysitter has sex with my dad, she’ll give him all the diseases. Then Dad will have sex with Mom and give her all the diseases, and the next time Mom has sex with the postman, she’ll give him all the diseases. AND HE’S THE ONE WHO RAN OVER MY FROG!!”

😁

Back in March, when my sister was in the hospital and the country was shutting down in response to the plague, my parents and I congregated at my sister’s house, fretting about her health, her two little sons, COVID, and the general state of the world. To break the tension, we decided to share jokes, and this one really cracked my parents up. In the face of despair, brash inappropriateness can work wonders. And now that Dad has departed the world, I think back with a smile at how much he appreciated the dead frog joke. The night after he heard it, Mom told him something funny had just happened, and he asked, “Is it as funny as a little boy walking into a whorehouse with a dead frog on a leash?”

[P.S.: If you have a joke of your own that you’d like to share to cut the tension of our current times, please do. It doesn’t even have to be grossly offensive. Also, if you’re a fan of the dead frog theme, here’s an unfortunately true story that you’ll probably like.]