Rofl

Sis, let’s be honest. I’ve been scouring the archives of my own fickle mind to find the last time I truly lost my composure and burst out laughing, and the results are frankly depressing.

Lately, it’s all been terribly grown-up, hasn’t it? I’ve done the deep, soulful self-reflections. I’ve wept until my mascara settled in my cleavage. But a proper, rib-cracking belly laugh? The kind where the snort is epic, I risk peeing my pants, and I’m slapping the closest shoulder like early Mike Tyson? Well, that requires a version of me that isn't so perpetually unimpressed by recent events in the world.

I’ve become a bit of a wet blanket, a droë drol... I’m a banana split without the cream, the nuts, or the sprinkles on top. I might manage a smirk at a dry quip or a little titter while Dave Chappelle does his set, but laughing until the snot comes out? 

Sjoe hey, seems like I need a tune-up again.

We really shouldn't dismiss the benefits of a good laugh. It’s the best sort of medicine because all it requires is your body, your mind, and a whole lot of soul. It’s a bit of a middle finger to the overwhelmingly shitty news going around lately. Laughter gives the lungs a jolly good exercise, settles the nerves, and reminds my grumpy disposition to relax for five minutes.

In a world where we’re all lugging around baggage heavy enough to incur an excess fee at Cape Town International, a laugh lightens the load without making us look like we’re in denial. It’s the ultimate icebreaker, the best way to interrupt a downward spiral, and a lovely reminder that we aren't just here to pay bills and die.

I can feel it, though. Beneath this crusty, sensible exterior, there’s a bubbling pressure cooker of mischief just waiting for a reason to release all that pent-up pressure. Lol, I no longer want to be regulated and Zen; I want to be mischievous, sowing mayhem and merriment wherever I go. I’m ready to let it rip (fart joke, anyone?) and bugger the consequences.

So, go on then. Give me your best shot when you next engage with me. I’m primed, I’m ready, and I’ve checked the structural integrity of my pelvic floor... truly, there is nothing that a good dance and a knyp won’t solve.

I dare you...

Knock, knock.

Who’s there? 

Control.

Contr...

Ha! More like Ctrl-Alt-Delete! 

Ai ja, los maar... Seems I lost control...my memory, my marbles and my mood when I got my SASSA seniors card.

And frankly, I’ve never felt better.