'Funny' Just Isn't as Funny Anymore
Ok, so it’s a couple of weeks later in real time. The Robin Williams suicide thing is still fairly fresh in our minds and still all over the media.
And it’s definitely still sad.
AND... it’s ironic that whenever I’m feeling a little down and need a dose of warm fuzzy to cheer me up, I reach for one of two movies to take over my headspace and make everything in my world find its proper perspective again. These would be the ‘Up’ movie (the kids movie with the little old man and his floating balloon house).
And the ‘Mrs Doubtfire’ movie.
|Ooooo helloooo, Dear!|
Can I just say… the scene where his/her mask gets run over by the truck while the social worker lady is visiting, is the absolute clincher for me and a guaranteed mood swinger every time.
“I don’t need a hand – I need a face!”
THAT will always be funny, I don't care what anybody says.
As some guy on twitter recently said – ‘funny just won’t be as funny anymore without Robin Williams in the world.’
Clearly it was a freshie and clearly it was lying in wait for me when I walked to the car after my first shift of the day. A Home Care job for Mrs Dorothy Pussywillow and her five evil-eyed Siamese cats who spied on me for an hour and a half as I invaded their space and threatened to meddle with their rotten kitty litter trays.
Ewww... as if.
Older adults are so polite and considerate like that and even if they could smell something mysteriously pooey on you, they would never say so. Because that would be rude and elderly folk understand, only too well, how upsetting it is to have bowels that let you down at the most inappropriate moments. Least said, soonest mended - as the saying goes. And besides, if I played dumb, they might think they were responsible for the foul aroma!
Leave 'em guessing I decided.
So off I went with my pungent self, to pick up the lovely Mr Sidney Goodfellow to take him for his weekly lap of the supermarket so as to get the usual few items that he never actually needs.
"It’s more about the company than the groceries, Dollie".
And we chat and have a laugh and poke fun at all the other 'oldies' that he used to play bridge with when his wife was alive.
Only to find out on this day by the nosey neighbour as I stood there ding-donging at his door, that poor old Sid was taken to hospital three days ago suffering ‘some sort of a stroke thing.’ And that his family had already arranged to have him relocated into a nursing home... IF he made it through the hospital part okay.
Par for the course in this line of work, I’m afraid.
And that if I breathed through my mouth... I wouldn't taste it.
Long story short, as I attempt to depart the carpark, my car starts chugging and lurching and horror of all horrors… and PLEASE NO, NOT HERE AT THE BOOM GATE…I find I can no longer change gear!
And not only could I not change gear (or drive the dam car) but I could also not pick up lovely Manju from the Physio to take her home. Complete and utter DISASTER!
I, on the other hand, was left red-faced, smelling of doggy-do whilst holding up the entire works at a crowded carpark and feeling dreadful that I'd let darling Manju down (although she swears she was not offended and that she actually laughed about it later).
Add to that my worry about poor old Sidney Goodfellow and wondering whether he'd make it back home or not.
Plus the stress from the inevitable gearbox bill I would soon no doubt be presented with.
Overall just a really CRAPPY day.
Ha ha yes, literally.
|sticky AND icky!|
”All my love to you, poppet, you’re going to all right… Bye-bye”.
Perhaps that's exactly how the not-feeling-so-funny-anymore Robin Williams saw it too.