Olio! Reopened!

(Clearing throat, in a melodious hostess voice):

Greetings of the day! I welcome you to Olio. We are excited to announce that our dear Chef has returned after an unexpected hiatus. Also, I apologize for the wait- I know that four months is a long time, but rest assured that we will make this dining experience worthwhile for you.

We are so pleased that you have decided to dine with us! I’m your blogger for this evening; won’t you step this way and scroll down to read? How do you like this seating- I’m sorry that I cannot accommodate you anywhere else, as your seat right now is the only place where you can read this blog.

Tonight’s specials are self-indulgent craziness garnished with expected results, served with a side of ridiculous suggestions and morbid curiosity. The Chef recommends that you do not part-take of any wines or liquids with these specials, as we are not responsible for you choking to death with laughter.

Previous dinner menus are located to your right. If you have not dined here before, please do visit it for a flavor of Whooshing Ducks, Birthday Cakes, Splashing Water and other such delicious entrees.

::Bon laughter!::

I don’t want to go into the details of self-indulgent craziness with expected results. I think I have quite beaten that topic to death. My indulgence with talking is popular (err...notorious?). And the expected result is always, always my hero complaining about the amount of noise I make. Apparently, I talk in my sleep too! Come to think of it, I might just sympathize with him for being married to a chatterbox. (Mind, I said ‘might’!)

My decision to blog had multi-intents: typing my talking (to give his ears some rest), find other ‘listeners’ for all the nonsense I spout (and count on # of hits says I have a lot of listeners) and finally, trying my hand at humor.

Romance, tragedy, even describing battles and politics any writer can do, but making someone laugh through words is simply difficult. One does not have cues to see how someone reacting, which is very significant in deciding to continue, or alter, or altogether stop the joke. (Or something in that vein which actually makes sense!) So, you write what you think is funny and wait for the laughter- oh wait, written humor does not award this instant satisfaction, you can’t hear anyone laugh. Unless, it’s right behind your back for the idiocy written previously.

For some reason, my dear hero derisively seems to think that I can prattle on almost any topic (which I can, technically). But when he voices that opinion aloud (recap: that I can prattle on almost any topic), it does get my hackles up.

I should probably mention that he ‘voiced his opinion’ rather gingerly, awaiting my out-burst. Any mention of how much I talk indubitably leads to how much he does not talk, the argument which spirals into oblivion with no peaceful end in sight.

He suggested that I take up standup comedy.

Yes, that sentence deserves a paragraph by itself, with ample space, because for that’s how I long I was stunned into silence. (Silence! Me!) A few seconds later, my faculties caught up with my surprise and I was able to quickly determine some things:

1. I can talk. (Duh!)

2. I can talk standing up (wheeee! I can multi-task!)

3. I think I’m funny (whether others think the same, is a debatable point).

Ensconced in my family, in my community, I have been safe from failure. The polite society demands that one should smile or laugh along, to keep up appearances. To step out of this dream audience, and market my humor? His ridiculous suggestion has me morbidly contemplating… Should I? Dare I?