Sports Editor
Well, here I am, inspecting this article again, deciding whether or not it deserves a place in the renowned humor section. Don’t tell the humor editors, but I might have despised this section right from the start of the school year. Once I joined El Gato and discussed the available sections with my dad, he immediately responded, “DO NOT DO HUMOR; YOU AREN’T FUNNY.” To my shock, he did not understand that you can write for any column, but you only EDIT one specific section.
Let’s just say that my original Nara Smith humor article became permanently engraved into my puny brain for her homemade Cheez-It recipe, and not for how they taste; it was for how I gazed at the article, similar to this one, and wrote absolutely nothing. Two whole hours of grating sharp cheddar cheese, precise Nara Smith measurements to the gram of flour, and whatever else goes into a homemade Cheez-It. I will stick to the precious red and orange box calling my name as it shouts “100% REAL CHEESE.”
You can genuinely tell you are not comedic when you take a quick stab at a joke, and surrounding peers have to fake laugh or pretend they did not hear it because it was that bad. Maybe they actually did not listen (as I stared them in the face and reiterated my punchline). But hey, at least I laughed! I always thought I would at least place higher than my mom on the comedic scale, but according to the Melinauskas family, the order goes: (1) Victor, (2) Sahara, (3) Jonna, (4) AND BEST FOR LAST, Britt. Wait, hold up; there has been a quick change to the list consisting of my idiotic plump cat, Dixie, reaching fourth place and pushing me back to fifth due to her amusing rolling off the bed shenanigans.
Most of the laughs I receive are not meant to be jokes. Go ahead and look at my past chemistry test scores if you want a guaranteed smile and a side of tears from yours truly. All of my academic and physical downfalls have been related to chemistry. Such as when I tore my fantastic ACL and meniscus at a volleyball tournament without knowing it, only to realize it as I plunged to the floor—knee completely out of its socket—midway through a stoichiometry question (thank you, Room 201). In other words, I was stuck between two chairs attached to desks—what an absolute boondoggle of an invention.
The movie How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days was pretty fabulous in that area of expertise and the “how to” column, but now I need a ‘Twenty Steps to Become Funny’ film to replace my Friday night ritual of 90s romantic comedies. As Kate Hudson waltzes down the stairs in her famed butter yellow dress that has inspired thousands of prom gowns in the decades since, I need a more direct lecture with bullet points and notes to begin my in-depth study of humor. A step-by-step class would be nice, as would a closing final in front of my peers to get a genuine laugh rather than an awkward nod of the head. Now, I am not humorous; I could never do stand-up comedy because I become like a deer stuck in front of a headlight the minute the spotlight shines, but here is my confession for the reason Britt Melinauskas does not write for the humor section.
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