Freshman year of college I was watching Kung Fu Hustle with some friends in Gainesville. (Let me point out that this movie is a comedy.) During the opening fight scene, I remember the old lady landlord doing something funny, so I -- of course -- laughed! Out loud! A lot! Two of my three friends promptly stood up and sat three rows away from me. (And I promptly stoop up & walked into another theatre to watch The Ballad of Jack & Rose -- a movie I was much more interested in watching, by the way.) More recently, coworkers have coined me "Betty" (and my colleague, K. "Wilma") for our disturbing bouts of laughter. This type of attention to my guffaw is not new.
So earlier this week we were all lying in bed. By "we," I mean my husband, Jasper, and me (Gilly hasn't gotten down with this snuggle fest just yet, but cooler weather is around the corner and I see her changing her mind). Jasper is between us, going to town licking/biting himself, doing whatever it is he does, and out of his mouth (I think it was his mouth) escapes a loud fart-like noise. J. immediately accuses me of farting and tells me how gross I am. I told him it wasn't me, but, really our puppy's flatulence. My dear husband, my best friend and soul mate, accuses me of lying to him, and of course it was me not the dog who made this obscene noise in our pure virginal bed. I started laughing -- I mean really laughing -- so hard. I couldn't believe that J. wouldn't believe me! Laughing turned to snorting, and well, you get the picture. In response to these noises he had probably never heard before, Jasper got really excited, fumbled his way out of the in-between space of the covers, started panting like he does when he's overstimulated, hops toward me, and mid-snort, bites me in the face!
Like I said, there is no grey area when it comes to my laugh.