TO BE FUNNY OR FUNNY LOOKIN', WHCH WOULD YOU CHOOSE?

My oldest daughter writes on her blog only occasionally but when she does she says funny things that I don't think she meant to be funny. Yesterdays blog was probably un-funny-to-her-life, but funny-to-me. Click here.

My other kids are funny too.

And I am funny lookin' so we're all pretty happy about things.

Hope you are funny too and if you can't be funny, then funny lookin' isn't so bad. At least you'll be memorable. There isn't much I hate worse than being un-memorable. Except this. People in my ward misspell my name. They get emails from me every stinkin' week--I'm the Relief Society Communication Specialist--isn't that a funny title. See? Funny. Anyway, I get emails from some of them occasionally--they even reply to my emails, and they call me "Lynn." My emails say "from Lynne Snyder." And their emails say, "Dear Lynn..."

I tell you, this is beginning to bother me. Now if they would say, "Dear person who looks like she's lost a lot of weight lately..." then I might be happier. But then again I might think, So, you thought I was a beached whale before, huh?

I tell you, tonight I just can't be pleased. I'm going to go read Hillary's blog again and see what she and her husband didn't tell each other because they weren't speaking. Then I will go to bed amused, instead of annoyed that my name is Lynn.

But I'm certainly annoyed that it is again after midnight and I am wide eyed and an hour and a half ago I was yawning! I don't have enough sense to pound sand in a rat hole. I'm not sure what that means but it was one of Mom's sayings and so it must mean something. Just like everything "means something" on Close Encounters of the Third Kind. And even Close Encounters of the Nerd Kind. I love those movies.

Okay, I'm going to bed now because I have become annoying, even to myself.

THERE SHOULD BE MORE REJOICING OVER THE ANNOYANCES

I called someone tonight and they couldn't find the phone until it had gone into the "leave a message" mode. This someone said, in an annoyed voice, "My 'wife or husband' (I'm not telling which) had the phone in the bathroom for some crazy (or stupid or insane--I can't remember exactly what she/he said) reason."

Unfortunately, I think that may have been recorded for the wife/husband to hear later.

Why didn't she/he say, "My wife/husband left the phone in the bathroom again because she/he loves to commune with Mother Nature," and then laughed about it. Or she/he could have said something way more witty than that. (It wouldn't be hard to be more witty than that.)

Why don't we joke with our spouses more? Why is everything serious? Why are we annoyed? Why aren't we charmed that the phone was in the bathroom? Why didn't she/he realize it was in the bathroom because it was the only place for some privacy?

Why isn't there more laughter? Why aren't we fun?

I want to be fun. I like fun. I think I'll sign up for fun lessons. Does anyone know how to do that?

So I googled "fun" and this is what I got. I guess it'll do. For now.

SIX WORDS FOR NOISY 7-13-08

Rusty nail, cactus spiked, cat voice.

THE 110% ANNOYING, NOISY SUNDAY CAT

Minkey is driving me crazy. I'm a pretty tolerant person and can put up with rudeness--to a point and then I either tune the rude person out or walk away--but this cat, this ever talking cat, this rude cat, who talks, but never listens is DRIVING ME CRAZY! I cannot tune him out. I can not walk away--I live here.

I told him today, "Minkey, you don't need to express your every thought!"

His response, "Meaaaow."

He does not have a sweet voice. His voice went through a meat grinder, was drug across a Nevada cactus field, got dumped in a vat of rusty nails, was basted with vinegar and then was installed into his voice box. To say it is irritating is like calling the Grand Canyon and interesting place with a river at the bottom. There is no adjective to describe his voice.

If I hang my left hand down and scratch his back, fondle his ears, pat his head he shuts up but the minute I remove my hand to type, he complains. He needs to belong to a little old lady, who watches TV a lot and wants a cat on her lap.

He won't be able to live here much longer because I won't be here. I'll be in a rubber room, all dressed up in a straight jacket and Phil will be in the room next to mine.

Send help. Send A little old lady with an empty lap. Come and get Minkey. You'll have to get the key from the neighbors and let yourself in. I won't be here. Just take the cat and go. Call the mental home and tell them it's okay to let me out. In the meantime, I'll be there, all wrapped up, twitching.