First of all, I've discovered that a good marriage can only work if one's partner is equally as demented. Fortunately for me, I've been friends with my husband since I was a girl in high school. I was drawn to him specifically for his oddball, quirky, and twisted sense of humor. We're a perfect match in this regard which is what brings me to my current story.
When Eric and I were just sixteen and seventeen years old we would entertain ourselves for hours with fart jokes. Yes, it's true; this is how we spent our time together. While other kids were making out on Southern California beaches, my future husband and I were sitting in his green Mustang comparing natural bodily sounds and laughing our asses off. My mother would have been so proud. How to catch a future mate? I think not but apparently it worked for us.
Twenty some years later, we still laugh hysterically as Eric sneaks into our sons' rooms - especially if they've given us a rough day - and cracks a loud, long, and smelly one off once they've fallen asleep. Bad parents? Perhaps. We consider ourselves resourceful and humorous. It's how we keep our sanity in what we feel is oftentimes a dangerous and overwhelming autistic household.
The other night, Eric and I were enjoying screaming fits of laughter. One would think we were being entertained by some hysterical comedy on our computer. Not so. We were watching ear wax extractions. Yes, we were grossing ourselves out by viewing specialists performing this delicate procedure. Eventually we moved on to nastier things until I'd finally had enough and begged Eric to stop through my giggling tears.
All I can say is, thank God I wasn't drinking coffee.