Please, Heidi - No more of your jokes

Someone is lacking a sense of humor.

It's either me or vast numbers of my fellow Southeast Missouri residents.

I spotted the problem a couple of months ago when I was paying for some groceries and having the usual back-and-forth banter with the cashier.

"You've got a lot of ones here," she said.

"Yeah," I replied. "I just came from amateur night at Regina's House of Dolls."

That's funny, right? Anyone who has seen me knows men would not give me money to take my clothes off. When I see those admonitions in women's magazines to spice up your marriage with a strip tease, I almost wet my pants with laughter. I imagine seductively rolling down my giant girdle with "You Can Leave Your Hat On" blaring in the background.

My grocery-store quip got absolutely nothing from the cashier or the guy behind me. Not even the pity chuckle that you sometimes give a stupid person when you're trying to get her to shut up.

My most recent humor debacle was over the weekend at a birthday dinner. The conversation turned to a Time magazine article that mentioned using ground-up skin from human cadavers to smooth out facial wrinkles.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," I said. "What if you were injected with the skin of a murderer and your face started attacking people?"

Now THAT is funny. This time I got a couple of pity chuckles but nothing else.

I'd like to point out that one of the dinner guests did not order dinner. She requested the kale garnishes off of the other guests' plates. Yet I'm the one getting pity.

Here's the problem: I am supposed to be making at least a small part of my living as a humorist. If I am getting no laughs from the material I try out in public, I'm doomed. Doomed!

I was pondering this dilemma Tuesday when I got an e-mail from my friend, Angel. It was a picture from Martha Burk's protest at the Masters. Women are standing around holding signs that say, "Fair play on the fairway" and "Sexism is a handicap."

Way off in the back is a guy holding up a bright yellow sign that says, "Iron my shirt."

I laughed, but Angel later told me one of her friends e-mailed: "You passing that e-mail along is the reason women make 75 cents to every dollar a man makes."

Now THAT is not having a sense of humor.

I'm going to ride my brand of humor out. If it doesn't work, I'll stop making lame jokes and ask for a transfer to the Opinion page. I've got opinions, you know.

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Speaking of opinions and golf, is there room for one more comment on Annika Sorenstam? This one is from an actual female, complete with the breasts former CBS commentator Ben Wright indicated would keep women from ever excelling in the sport.

I watched Annika for the first time in the Michelob Light Open on May 3, right after I returned home from the annual company golf outing. "How does she do it?" I thought, remembering how I inevitably whiffed the ball a couple times before hitting it 3 feet. My teammates nearly beat me to death with their nine irons.

I know the Colonial's invitation to Annika is about ratings.

But, like any woman who ever has been made to feel less important because of her gender, I want Annika to achieve the bigger purses, endorsement contracts and public adoration that her male counterparts earn. If she can compete with them, she deserves it.

That goes for any of us who can play like a man.

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.