Mr. Macchiato doesn't always read my blog. I thought he might read my political blog, and he does sometimes, but... not so much. He says he doesn't need to read them because he lives with me. And that is enough.
When I think I may have written something that might be funny I will send him e-mails at work or bring him the laptop with the page up and set it before him. I sit and watch his face intently. If I can get him to laugh out loud it makes me very happy. He usually smirks and might have the beginnings of a chuckle forming but doesn't let it out. Sometimes he smiles. When he's done, he usually hands the laptop back to me and says, "Cute."
Mr. Macchiato is often tagged by friends and co-workers as Eyeore. He has a dry sense of humor and a great love for puns. He does not care for the Eyeore comparison... yet, everywhere we go, it follows.
I asked him the other day just what he does find funny, since my blog contains so much "chick humor." Years ago he read something online about a guy building a rocket with his son and the ensuing disaster. He said that is the funniest thing he's ever read in his life. I remember when he read it. We were living in Mississippi and had a ginormous laundry room that also had a built in desk where we kept the computer. He was bent over howling with laughter. And then he drooled on himself.
Tough crowd at my house. Of course, everyone wants to read the stories that are about them. Much like when the photo albums come out or are pulled up on the computer screen. Everyone is searching for the pictures of themselves so they can gripe about how awful they look or point out what an excellent picture it is.
I guess a post that included explosions, the maiming of innocent bystanders, various and sundry bodily mishaps that preferably come with a very bad smell... and more explosions would get him to laugh out loud. Of course, he spent his childhood engaging in such activities as throwing rocks at his siblings while they were in trees trying to make them fall, setting an empty lot on fire trying to have a weenie roast, him and his brothers peeing out the second story window onto the roof rather than going to the bathroom, and his brother and friend running back and forth in front of him when he broke his leg to see if he could shoot them with a beebee gun. Which he did. He sure laughs out loud when he tells those stories!
Again I say... tough crowd.