My family was having a nice dinner earlier this week. LB was in his high chair getting noodles in his belly and sauce everywhere else. Butter had complimented me on that night’s dinner I had prepared. This had me in a great mood because three of the last four meals were deemed “yucky.” Trinity and I were eating and conversing when suddenly a thought popped into her head.
“Oh yeah, I have to watch The Amazing Race, an old friend is on it this time.”
“Anyone I know?” I asked.
“Jaymes, the singer.” She stared perplexed at me, knowing full well I have forgotten more than I remember about her past before we met.
I thought for a second and asked, “The guy who performed in Vegas, right?”
“That’s him,” she smiled, “He’s on a team of Chippendale dancers. That’s what he does now.”
A little insight on how my brain works. When someone says something to me, I think of a joke. I can’t help it. Humor has always been my only way to show off – not that I’m all that good at it – but that I’ve always been impressed by funny people, and hope to impress others with my own wit. In high school my humor was a distraction to teachers because of bad timing. It was annoying to fellow students, mostly because I told groaners & eye-rollers. They were “Dad jokes,” and not funny coming out of the mouth of an awkward teenager. In recent years I have become a father, and finally grown into my own sense of humor. Earlier this year a co-worker told me I must be a great father because I was awesome at “dad jokes.” It made me grin.
Now, back to the story.
“He’s on a team of Chippendale dancers. That’s what he does now.”
(My brain: “Chippendale” = antique furniture or cartoon chipmunks, let’s go with the chipmunks.)
“Chippendale, huh? Which one is he?”
“THE ONE WITH THE RED NOSE!” shouted Butter.
Chippendale off the ol’ block.