While I was driving home from the dog park the other day, I had one of those moments where you think something and you just start laughing your ass off. If you don’t experience this, I’m sorry because it feels unbelievably great.
The last time – I remember anyway – that I laughed this hard at myself, was when I came up with the concept for Leotard Larry back in January of this year. In fact, those orange leotards were the tight-fitting butt of my belly laugh.
As I have mentioned, the novel is being penned and it has a working title, but an idea for a cover and alternative title came to me all of a sudden as I started out into the gray, drizzling distance. I imagined that image of me in that orange jumpsuit with a cutout photo of my head replacing the stock photo I purchased for that original blog entry, incorporating a funny skit I performed in the kitchen earlier that day. Well, it wasn’t well received by my audience but in my defense, I was just trying to cheer up my wife who was having a bad day. She did laugh later so perhaps there is hope for that skit.———–
I loved making people laugh as a kid. The problem was, it was often in class which of course, got me into a lot of trouble, from time in the principal’s office, to moving my desk into the hallway for weeks. I also got the strap for throwing a snowball and hitting my good friend in the eye accidentally, so sometimes those ‘jokes’ were literal zingers.
As I’ve been thinking about what my book is about, and knowing that it will talk about my life to some degree, I have been pondering ‘What makes me, me?’ Well, each of us of course is multi-faceted, but what character trait has been a constant in my life? What made me feel most alive and free inside? What part of me would stand out when people remembered me at my funeral? I’d imagine the first descriptor they would say is funny, and those that haven’t appreciated my sense of humour, would just replace funny with asshole. You can’t please everyone.
Sunday morning, Tara and I were cuddling up with Finnegan when the mid-80’s jingle for the My Buddy doll came into my head. Then, we debated what a ‘My Buddy’ was. I thought it was a teddy bear – I might have been thinking of Teddy Ruxpin – but she imagined a boy doll and she was right.
Later on – downstairs – I couldn’t get the song out of my head and in this particular instance, I started singing ‘My bosom buddy’ for some reason. As I sang the song, I suddenly lifted my left leg and with perfect timing between ‘My buddy’s’, ‘rrrriiiip.’
So there you have it. Gross, funny, rude, whatever your response, it happened and it was suddenly the imaginary cover for the novel within my chuckling brain late Sunday afternoon, driving down The Link with tears rolling down my face.
This is Me: Leotard Larry. The Flatulent Ballerina.
Every novel needs a working title. You can’t say that wouldn’t grab your attention on a big cutout at the front of your neighbourhood bookstore?