Today marks the 4th funeral I have been to in a week.

Now, I know that no one especially likes funerals - death isn't really a coctails-and-weenies event. But I especially hate funerals, because at each and every one I attend I end up looking like an ass.

Ever since I was little, I have dealt with discomfort by laughing. I try to find a way to get myself out of a dismal situation by finding something to lift my spirits. The problem is, the more dire a situation becomes, the more I can't help but grin or laugh. I don't find funerals funny - quite the opposite, actually - I just can't HELP IT. It's literally a nervous response - bad shit happens, I start laughing. When you have grieving loved-ones all around you and the mood is somber, no one really likes looking up and seeing this big doofus cracking a smile and laughing with anyone who will entertain him a moment's attention.
Obviously, God has no problem with it because s/he hasn't smited me out of existance yet.