Lately I have been worried. Not about work, school, malaria, girls, boys, or muscles, but about me. (yeah, i know, i’m a shallow loser) I have caught myself saying some really not funny things. It is a worrisome situation. Maybe it is all the time spent with the people over the age 50. I doubt that, Ray, Bob and Ellen have good humor. Or maybe it is all the time spent with all the people under age 13. I doubt that, Andrew has made me laugh doing many things, including singing Rihanna’s hit SOS. Or maybe it is all the time spent with people that have English as a second language. It can’t be that I’m turning into my father, because that would only make me funnier. Whatever it is, it is taking its toll on me, hard.

But then again. Thinking about it for a while, there is that off chance I was never funny to begin with. That is even more worrisome. Maybe my immature yet witty jokes were only found funny by me. My immature humor still lives. I don’t even know what this means, but before people say Ray and Ellen’s names here they say it Pu Ray or Pi Ellen, I get a small chuckle everytime. (Like honestly, they couldn’t have picked any other words in the world?) Maybe TV was my only source of fresh jokes. I really hope not. Who knows? I know that I don’t know, that’s what I know. Do you know?

I might have just died a little.