I like to joke that I have 3 boys, ages 17, 20, and 47. One is my husband — cue rim shot. Husband 2.0 came along when I was a single mother with really young kids. He proceeded to endear himself to them by doing silly impressions (his Yoda and Scooby-Doo sort of mesh together) and inventing a game he called “Dodgeball In The Dark,” in which they raced around the backyard throwing whatever wasn’t nailed down. But he really bonded with the boys via male humor — first The Simpsons, then Family Guy as they got (almost) old enough, with a healthy dose of “that’s what she said” jokes thrown in.
Many writers have weighed in on why women are less amused by this type of humor; in fact, Google, “Why men love The Three Stooges and women don’t,” and you’ll get over 2 million entries, with a wide range of explanations. I’m constantly trying to give my boys a bit of refinement and elegance, and moms are traditionally the ones who discourage rough-housing and bad language, but there is also something to be said in favor of letting our hair down a bit. Especially since at my house, it’s a losing fight anyhow.
I’ve learned to enjoy Family Guy (okay, it can be horribly offensive, but also really funny, and the song parodies are a riot), and I’ve been known to crack an off-color “that’s what she said” on occasion. Plus this week, when I was at my wits’ end trying to figure out a topic for my song, Husband 2.0 suggested I do something juvenile with the rhyming name of Hobby Lobby, and this is the result. Maybe we’re the reverse of the old saying about Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, that he gave her class and she gave him sex appeal. . . I give him class and he gives me bawdy humor suggestions?