The Great Conversationalist

This happened a long time ago, but it gets brought up every once in a while and every time it's just as funny. Although, the hilarity probably won't translate very well into a written story and it'll end up being something that I have to explain away with the standard "you had to be there" answer. But I'm telling it anyway.

Hound Dogs has absolutely fantastic pizza. Yes, I just linked to myspace. I feel awful about it but it's the only sort of official site I could find for the place. And I should let you know that I'm pretty sure me linking to myspace is in the Book of Revelation as one of the signs of the end of the world. So you may want to get to the grocery store and stock up on milk and bread and toaster strudels. Maybe a tub or two of cookie dough. I don't know.

And although it's not related to the story, let me also state that part of the entire Hound Dogs experience is the...uhm....ambiance. And by ambiance I mean dirty, dingy tables and loud, usually terrible music coming from the attached bar and bathrooms that make you want to put on a biohazard suit before you enter (which, in turn, makes the reason for entering much more difficult to accomplish) and excessively tattooed/pierced waitresses and generally AWFUL service. You've been warned.

Anyway, it used to be a place that we frequented. One night I was there with M2M and her husband except I'm pretty sure they weren't married yet. I don't think they were engaged yet either. So just dating. And we're sitting there talking about who knows what. Which is what we always do. Talk and talk and talk some more. So Future-Husband is making some sort of point that he feels is important. And as he finishes this point he turns to me as if to say, "What do you have to contribute on this subject? I'm very interested in your opinion."

Now, the thing about my digestive system is, it's very funny. Great comic timing, wonderful improvisational skills. It even did a stint at Second City back in 2000. And because great quantities of Dr. Pepper had been consumed that night, my digestive system had collected large amounts of gas that needed to be expunged. Was it hoarding all of this gas for just such an opportunity? Who can say, really? All we know is that the opportunity was presented and it was taken with no hesitation.

So he turns to me expecting a response and I turn to him and oblige with great enthusiasm. A great big enthusiastic belch directly into his face. Immature? Maybe. Unbelievably funny? Without question. What exactly made it so funny? I'm not even sure. Part of it was the fact that his girlfriend found it to be ridiculously hilarious. So her laughing made me laugh harder and my laughing made her laugh harder and so on. Five minutes later we're holding our sides and crying because the laughter hasn't stopped. But what made it so damn funny was the fact that he did NOT find it funny. At all. Throughout the entire thing he just had a look on his face that said I AM EXTREMELY IRRITATED. THIS IS NOT FUNNY STOP WITH YOUR IDIOT LAUGHING. And of course, we couldn't because that look made it even more funny.

So while I am capable of throwing words like "disingenuous" into everyday conversation, I'm just as skilled at making a quality bodily function joke.

I believe the word is "versatile."