It’s Book Club time (aka “Excusetodrinknumerousbottlesofwine night”) and the girls and I are gathered at my friend’s place in WeHo, snacking on cheese and dips and desserts in our comfy clothes and socks, curled up on couches and sprawled out across the floor. It’s gotten to the point in the night where we shift into Goof Mode and we’re all several glasses of wine in, telling stories and jokes.
“Wait! I have a joke!” I said. Everyone turns to look at me.
“Okay,” my friend says. She sorta rolls her eyes.
“No, really! I have a JOKE!” I say.
“Okay, Joanna, tell the joke,” Roomie Deux says. She might as well say: Get it over with.
“Okay, okay,” I grin, and take a breath. “There are two brooms hanging out in the closet…”
Everyone moans and laughs at the same time.
“What? It’s a great joke!”
“I know it!” Roomie Deux says. “You tell all the same jokes my Dad does. I know this.”
“You’re comparing me to your Dad? Your Dad’s jokes?”
“Well, you and him tell all the same cheesy jokes.”
Fantastic.
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