I’m A Witzelsucht

Witzelsucht is a rare neurological disorder whose sufferers have an excessive tendency to tell pointless stories or inappropriate jokes and puns.

You guys, in my long and noble career of self diagnosis, I feel I have hit the mother lode. I finally found a neurological disorder that could have my name on it.

I am a Witzelsucht. I mean, it does sound like me, but I never thought that my neurological disorder would sound like street fare you would buy at Octoberfest.

Need proof? You need not look any further than my last blog post about the times I’ve showed my actual ass in public. I can’t imagine any story being more pointless than that.

Inappropriate jokes? There haven’t been too many funerals I’ve attended where I haven’t thought of the most hilarious thing ever to say. I am proud to say that I always keep it to myself. Nearly always.

Fine. Sometimes. Not always.

Fortunately for me, I have found the perfect partner in life. We understand each other. We have the same interests. We both have wildly inappropriate things to say at the most inopportune times.

For instance, my grandfather died when I was heavily pregnant with my baby boy. Randy was not raised in a Catholic household (because he’s a heathen) and was mostly unfamiliar with Catholic masses.

In his defense, unless you’ve had years of training sitting through the absolute boring horror that is a Catholic mass, the experience can be bizarre and you have to contend with the fear that you will die of old age before the magic words ‘mass has ended, go in peace’ are spoken.

So, we’re in church to honor my mother’s father and Randy is staring intently at the alter. He finally leans over to me and says “Why is there an espresso machine up there”?

He was talking about the tabernacle.

I went to Catholic school in grade school and had perfected the art of holding laughter in without snorting or choking during mass. Because laughing in mass would bring the wrath of the nuns down on you harder than not turning in homework. The only thing worse, was throwing a lunch into the Goodwill box that lived on the playground, but that’s a different story.

I called on this skill because laughing during my grandfather’s funeral would have resulted in some disapproval from the family. I was already sitting there as a woman who had married three times and had obviously procreated again. I didn’t need this shame on top of that.

We passed this disorder on to the baby boy. It was a scant two years later when Randy’s great grandfather passed away (his family lives to be freakishly old) that Joey decided singing Ding Dong The Witch Is dead was the perfect song to sing during the service. At the top of his lungs.

He and I spent the rest of the service sitting in the car.

I think we need to raise awareness for Witzelsuchts everywhere. Who will think of the Witzelsuchts? We need ribbons! Or maybe flowers that shoot seltzer water.

 

 

66 Thoughts.

  1. Ha ha ha, this is priceless, I am terrible for doing that. I did something almost identical at my friends’ mother’s funeral. It was high Catholic, so the whole thing was in Latin. I had not a clue what was going on and when I heard jingling bells, which I thought was coming from a vendor’s wagon outside, I whispered to my friend that it was an odd day for the fish van to be coming around, causing instant hilarity. She subtly pointed out where it was coming from and we both sat shaking with silent hysterical giggles. The woman behind us assumed we were sobbing and put her hand on our shoulders saying ‘there there’ which only made it worse. Too many other examples to mention but you just reminded me of this one
    🙂

  2. Why IS there an espresso machine up there? I think Randy & I would get along swimmingly, darling. I have the absolute greatest Catholic/heathen story — remind me to tell you when I’m feeling better. And is there ANY doubt that I suffer (it’s not truly suffering if you enjoy every second of it) from Witzelsucht?

  3. YES. Funerals. Dead people jokes. That is me and my entire family.

    We weren’t raised Catholic, but we have said more than our fair share of strange or inappropriate things during what are meant to be solemn celebrations: I give you my sister’s belching grandson, and that time her son walked directly into the cross and nearly gave himself a concussion. Oh, wait. That was the same mass, last weekend.

  4. I call it mummy turrets. I was laughing during a catholic mass once and my husband kicked me so hard I started to cry. I think it made me look solemn and remorseful and, truthfully, my eyes turn a striking shade of green when I cry. Win win.
    Apparently you get a kick if you swear too. Keep that in mind.

  5. My husband and I are pretty good at keeping our mouths shut in the moment, but I think we might have some sort of joint telepathic Witzelsucht going on because one of us will think something wildly and hilariously inappropriate, and then the other will have to stifle a laugh, and then we’ll turn and we’ll look at each other and we’ll just KNOW.

  6. Too awesome. If they insisted I take pills to cure this, I’d flush them suckers!
    This brought to mind the 2 weeks I spent at my Godmother’s house with other members of my family when my father died. I had been crying my eyes out for days and my Godmother inexplicably started taking out all her frustrations on her poor, old, helpless Aunt who insisted on being carried to the bathroom every 5 minutes to pee (Godmother insisted she walk since she was able). She said things to her Aunt I NEVER in a MILLION YEARS thought I’d hear her say – most of which I sadly forget except for the comment about her hairless lady-parts being hairless because she never used it to have sex with her poor, miserable husband. And that he died because of being married to such a cold, dried up witch. Way funnier in Spanish, I assure you…
    My cousin & I just literally disintegrated into such uncontrollable laughter that my Aunt pushed us out the door with a list for Target. We took the best. photo-booth photos. EVER! 🙂

  7. My friend Jack, while doing some time for a pot bust in the late 70s, attended a Catholic mass out of sheer boredom. They ejected him after he was heard to say Wait, do I want to eat the flesh of the savior and drink his blood? Trick question! No. I heard you Catholics did some weird stuff in here, but cannibalism? None for me, thanks.
    Just the name witzelsucht is enough to make me laugh inappropriately.

  8. I second Rena – I’m going to be singing that song at MIL’s funeral – oh no, wait – she lives in a different country to me, I don’t have to go to her funeral – YAY !!!!!
    Me xox
    (And may I get struck down if my husband ever reads this !!!)

    • Wise slut…that could be me. Except the wise part. And I’m not really a slut. Unless you go with the original meaning that I don’t keep a clean house, then I’m totally a slut.

  9. Me. Everyday. All the freakin’ time.

    Like that one time in church when my brother leaned over to me after communion and said, “The Lord’s a little stale today.”

    I tell that story more times than it’s funny. I’m totally going to hell.

  10. Hahahaha! Oh man – I went to Catholic high school. I think we’d be wonderful underwater swimmers, or acrobatists or synchro swimmers … anything that involves holding our breath. The hours I spent trying not to laugh …

  11. oh.my.god.

    i KNEW there was a name for it.

    the number of times i have to almost literally bite through my tongue to not say something odd/innappropriate/whatever to someone. omg.

    and i was raised episcopalien, which is like the english church in yank’s clothes.
    but we’re pretty relaxed, and if a kid starts singing weird shit at a funeral, we usually join in.

    we’re weird.

  12. If only I had known. I’d rename my blog but then there would be the whole redesign of the logo, new tagline. . . . BAH.

    Eff it, Sons of Anarchy is about to come on and I have a date with a bag of Oreos on the couch to watch it.

    Oh, and I learned to suppress laughter in boot camp. If you think holding it in hurts, you have no idea how bad it can hurt to let it out. Go Marine Corps.

  13. The replies are as hysterical as the original post. I am a Recovering Catholic and have many stories of suppressing laughter during mass, confessions, CCD, you name the event and I laughed / didn’t laugh at some point during it. Sometimes a sibling, friend, or cousin was involved in the frivolity. Sometimes not.

    Who knew that Catholic religion could cause so much laughter?

  14. I wonder what the name of the disorder is called when you take the name of a disorder that describes telling pointless stories and then write a pointless story about it?

    And, if a witzelsucht falls in the forest, does anybody hear?

  15. Why is there an espresso machine up there.. OMG, I love it.. ha

    My older brother still hasn’t forgotten my 3 year old’s comment at my grandfather’s funeral.. “Hey, who’s that dead guy in the box up there?” right in the middle of catholic mass.. yeah.. not so priceless.. well, truth be told, I still laugh about it, I guess it wasn’t funny… suuuuure..

  16. You know how you can tell a Baptist at a Catholic funeral? When they do the Lord’s Prayer…Catholics stop at “for Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory.” and Baptists continue with “forever and ever, Amen.”
    Accoustics are GREAT in my local Catholic church. The echoes last a full three seconds…
    “Amen, men, men, men, men.”

  17. You know how you can tell a Baptist at a Catholic funeral? When they do the Lord’s Prayer…Catholics stop at “for Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory.” and Baptists continue with “forever and ever, Amen.”
    Acoustics are GREAT in my local Catholic church. The echoes last a full three seconds…
    “Amen, men, men, men, men.”

  18. I have missed so many of your old posts! *bows head*

    I absolutely have this one. Long, pointless stories? Inappropriate jokes and talking out of turn? Check and…check.

    Good to know. But is there a cure? 😉

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