The Dreamer's Pen

Laughter is one of my favorite things in the world. I absolutely love to laugh—it’s healing, it’s freeing, and it’s a beautiful way to connect with people. My sense of humor tends to lean toward the quirky, the exaggerated, and the timeless. There’s something about old-school physical comedy that just cracks me up every time, and I’ve realized that I get a huge kick out of certain types of humor that others might overlook.

Let me start with Laurel & Hardy. There’s something brilliant in the way they play off each other—Stan’s clueless, innocent expressions paired with Ollie’s exasperated glares and dramatic sighs. Their routines are a masterclass in timing and body language. They could take the simplest premise—like trying to move a piano up a flight of stairs—and turn it into 15 minutes of complete chaos that somehow still feels fresh, even nearly a century later. I don’t need elaborate jokes or witty wordplay to get me laughing—just give me two grown men failing repeatedly and spectacularly while trying to do something mundane. I’m in stitches.

Then there’s Mama’s Family, which holds a special place in my heart. Vicki Lawrence as Thelma Harper is an absolute riot. The show is full of zingers, sass, and over-the-top characters, but what I love most is Mama’s delivery. She’s sharp, brutally honest, and completely unfiltered—like that one aunt who always speaks her mind at family gatherings and doesn’t care who’s listening. I find myself laughing not just at the jokes, but at the rhythms and cadences of the speech, the facial expressions, the exaggerated Southern flair. It’s a very specific type of humor that balances sarcasm with heart, and I’ll never get tired of it.

Physical comedy, in general, has always been my sweet spot. I’m not a fan of seeing people get hurt in real life, but classic physical comedy? That’s a whole different story. There’s a universal charm to a well-timed pratfall or a harmless slapstick moment, and I find it endlessly funny. I love watching someone try so hard to hold it together in a chaotic moment—coffee spilling, papers flying, someone stuck in a revolving door—and still acting like everything is fine. It’s exaggerated, goofy, and the best part is that no one is actually getting hurt. It’s the kind of humor that reminds us not to take life too seriously.

Even in more modern comedy, if someone’s doing physical bits—tripping over a rug, spilling soup on themselves, getting tangled in a phone cord—I’m already laughing. It doesn’t have to be intellectual. In fact, the more ridiculous, the better. Slapstick is underrated. There’s a joy in surrendering to silliness.

I also appreciate humor that plays with exaggeration and character quirks—people who are completely unaware of how absurd they are being. When someone is just so sure of themselves, and then the world pulls the rug out from under them? Hilarious. I love when characters are dead serious in ridiculous situations. That level of commitment to the bit makes it even funnier for me.

And then there’s Carol Burnett. I cannot put into words how much I adore her and The Carol Burnett Show. It’s a masterclass in sketch comedy, timing, and characters that somehow still feel relevant and hilarious decades later. Carol is brilliant—whether she’s playing the dimwitted secretary, the flustered housewife, or my personal favorite, the iconic “Went with the Wind” parody of Gone with the Wind (if you know, you know). Her ability to commit to the absurd, break the fourth wall just enough, and pull her castmates into fits of laughter—while staying in character—always leaves me absolutely dying. It’s the kind of humor that never goes out of style.

Then there’s The Hot Chick with Rob Schneider. Look, I know it’s not winning any Oscars, but that movie cracks me up every single time. It’s over-the-top, it’s ridiculous, and I love it.

There’s something so funny about the total absurdity of it—a grown man trapped in a teenage girl’s body navigating high school, trying to flirt, trying to fight, and failing hilariously. The humor in this movie is unapologetically raunchy and juvenile, but the physical comedy is where it really shines.

Rob Schneider’s commitment to playing a teenage girl in a man’s body is hysterical—his exaggerated facial expressions, the way he awkwardly tries to walk, talk, and act like a teenager, all while clearly being completely out of place.

It’s chaotic, it’s silly, and it’s just the kind of humor I love. The absurdity of the whole thing makes me laugh every time, no matter how many times I’ve seen it.

But if we’re talking about what really makes me laugh, I have to talk about my mom.

My mom and I had this special way of communicating. She was German, and growing up, we spoke this mash-up of German and English that probably made no sense to anyone else. But to us, it was everything. Sometimes we’d just make up words—nonsense words that sounded kind of German but weren’t—and we’d cry laughing. We’d point at something random, make up a silly phrase, and just lose it together. It was the kind of laughter that bonded us. It was silly, pure, and unfiltered joy. Even now, when I think of those moments, I can still hear the sound of us laughing until we couldn’t breathe. That’s the kind of laughter that stays with you, that becomes a cherished memory.

And here’s a quirky detail—birds. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I always giggle when I see a seagull perched on a street light. There’s something about the absurdity of a bird casually hanging out, so high up in the air like it’s just as comfortable as could be, that cracks me up every time. It’s a silly little thing, but it always brings a smile to my face.

So what makes me laugh? Laurel & Hardy. Mama’s Family. People slipping on imaginary banana peels. Grown adults getting tangled in their own shoelaces. Southern sass with a side of sarcasm. The hilarity of being human, in all our awkward, clumsy glory. Carol Burnett’s genius. The Hot Chick’s absurdity. The joy of laughing with my mom over made-up words. And, of course, a seagull on a street light.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.