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Dangerous Compassions

bee emojis ftw

If that’s a metaphor, not sure what it means.  I don’t have a problem with metaphorical sweetness.  Some people say I’m sweet–less so, as the years pass.  My mom calls me honey baby, and she sends me emojis of bees.

There’s a joke that was important to me when I was little.   Something like–how do you hide an elephant?  I think you’re supposed to paint its toenails red and put it in a cherry tree?  A joke series, which I enjoy.

A joke can be like a metaphor.  Something pleasurably sneaky is happening.   I’ll take it.

I was telling my friend how I described her to another friend.  I said how she was an English major, and I was an English major, so we have something in common.  For both us, majoring was a long time ago. 

That was kind of a joke too, because she and I are both Catholic Workers and have a shitton in common that has nothing to do with whether we’ve both read Dante’s Inferno, Paradise Lost, or Great Expectations.

Yeah, jokes are my favorite.  I would definitely like a Master’s degree in them.  That friend’s dad was telling us xmas jokes.

How much does it cost for Santa to park his sleigh?

(Nothing–it’s on the house.)

That was his favorite, but he begrudgingly told me one I liked better–Why was the letter E the only letter than got a Christmas present?

“I don’t know–why?” I asked, after thinking about it a few seconds, sleepy on his sofa.

“Because the other letters were not E.”

I laughed, groaning a bit.  An English major joke, kind of.  I want to tell my bestie that one.  She was an English major too.  Well, I’m fibbing–I wasn’t an English major.  I was a Literature major, but close enough.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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