I’m at this weird stage where I’m mature enough to know that I’m not supposed to be this immature. Like I’m at the age at which my mom already had me, a human she was responsible for at all times and I at this very same age, still pretend automatic doors are magic. 1
I joke when I’m nervous and a lot of the time it gets me in trouble. Like one time I was answering questions in a job interview, when the interviewer mentioned that I’d gotten through all the hard ones at which point I said “That’s what she said,” and she said “Get out.”
I didn’t get that job.
Another time I was at a funeral and the widow mentioned her husband died two days before his 70th birthday and I said “69? Nice!”
The worst instance of this was one time when my dad and I were having a really serious conversation where he told me his deepest, darkest secret, which was that he felt a little guilty for leaving his family to immigrate to Canada. Then he asked me what my deepest, darkest secret was. And in hindsight I do not have one of those. But I felt like I needed to say something so I said “Dad I never told you this before but I used to pronounce the word meme, mehmay” 2
I’m thinking about starting a support group called inappropriate jokes anonymous. We could even partner with alcoholics anonymous. They’d share their heartbreaking struggles with addiction and we would try not to crack jokes or laugh.