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Well, the stock markets were way up yesterday, so everyone has a smile on their face today, right?

Well, no, not yet anyway. It seems there is still imminent danger of collapse, but we’re skirting the edge of the whirlpool and trying to pull away from it. We’re a gnat’s ass away from global financial collapse and the events of the past couple of weeks has only led us to be aware of our fragile existence — sort of like a brush with death will make a person more cautious — for awhile.

In a month’s time this will all be a memory.

But all this seriousness isn’t at all what the TRUE intent of this post is. No, I fully intend to get you smiling at least for a minute or two.

As well as thinking for a minute or two.

I’m sure I’m not alone in that I receive numerous emails during the day-week-month with cute photos, witty repartee and thigh-slapping funnies.

Why is it, she asks, that the funniest ones always show up someones’ weakest link?

My case in point is this missive received from my hubby to me:

” Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety and every woman needs something to protect herself with, right??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.  I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing!

I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I’d get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.

AWESOME!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5″ long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, ‘no possible way!’

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best…?

I’m sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as if to say, ‘don’t do it dummy,’ reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . . HOLY MOTHER OF GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HECK!!!

I’m pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs?

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

Note: If you ever feel compelled to ‘mug’ yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor.. A three second burst would be considered conservative?

IT HURT LIKE  HECK!!

A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the
mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling. Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smellwas gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair.

I’m still looking for my testicles and I’m offering a significant reward for their safe return!!”

Ok, I’ll confess to having read this thing at least half-a-dozen times over the course of the last couple of years and never once have I been able to go “eh I’ve read this before”, click delete and go on my merry way. No, I HAVE to reread it EVERY SINGLE TIME I GET IT. And, every single time I get it, I laugh until the tears roll. For all I know, this could be someone’s made up stuff, but well, it’s GOOD made up stuff if that’s what it is. It SOUNDS true although perhaps a bit embellished so as to make it a really good story.

And does laughing so hard I wet my pants over some poor guy’s misfortune make me some kind of sick person? I mean, I’m glad for HIM that he was able to take this perspective as it has to have made the experience somewhat worthwhile (sort of an I did something stupid, but now I’m famous for it sort of deal).

And why is it that it’s always something involving pain and humiliation that makes us laugh the hardest?

I guess it has to do with the sense of relief that we get when we go “Gosh I’m sure glad that wasn’t me!”

It’s stories like this that keep me going back to such blogs as Monkey Fables and Tales and The Junk Drawer because both of these bloggers look at their lives with that angle that turns everything into a funny story. I envy their ability to take that perspective and I know it may make their spouses crazy that nothing ever seems to be serious with them, but the rest of us sure enjoy their wit. They let us look at ourselves and see the funny side.

So, here’s laughing with you, kid.

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