So as I stated in my previous blog, a bunch of my friends have suggested (for a while now) that I need to start blogging the stuff that happens to me and conversations I have with people. Apparently I’m funny.  For a long time I didn’t see it and just thought that my friends all participated in some sort of mass drug use while reading my posts on Facebook.  I’m not gonna say that my friends don’t smoke funny stuff, but when the sober ones start saying the same thing, it’s usually time to look into things.  I never really thought of myself as funny, I’m just me, but we all live inside our own heads and view ourselves a certain way.

Anyway, while thinking about this, and talking to a few people, I found myself recounting the day when I figured out where my particular sense of humor comes from.  The simple answer…my dad.

When I was younger I used to tell my dad that I wasn’t “normal” because I was an alien.  (I didn’t really believe I was an alien, but I’ve been proven wrong on a number of things over the years so it might be possible I’m wrong about this too.) I used to tell him that I was loony. The reason being that I was a Loonalien from the planet Loonaliea.  Whenever I would come home late I would come up with stories about how my REAL parents abducted me for a visit and that aliens tell time differently from humans and that was why I was late.  Anything I did wrong I would somehow spin into a story about aliens and blame them. My dad would just look at me with that dad look that said he wasn’t buying it, but then would let me off the hook because…well, how can you argue with aliens?

Anyway, years later while I was at work, my dad caught up with the times and got himself a phone that was capable of text messaging.  (This was HUGE for my dad.  The man still doesn’t have cable and I think he never will.)  Out of the blue, in the middle of my shift I received a text that was along the lines of the following:

“The aliens showed up today looking for you.  They were very disappointed that you do not live here anymore.  Can you please forward your address to them so they will stop shining that light in my window while I am trying to sleep? Love-Dad.”

I was stumped.  My co-worker asked what was wrong and, after I showed her the text, responded with, “So you’re just like your

It was then that it hit me.  Especially since me responding text to my father was, “Buy some blinds.”

Yep, that’s where my sense of humor comes from.

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