I somehow missed a mainstream sense of fun. When God was installing the mechanism for laughing at The Three Stooges, I was in line for mustard-covered cinnamon toast. Maybe some of you can explain why the following shit is fun, because I don't get it. PAINTBALL/FOAM-PELLET FIGHTS: Sometimes life is too calm. Sometimes people really need to get shot at with hard paint pellets that leave welts on their skin while they run through an obstacle course. Some people stick to foam pellets. On the up side, they hurt less than paint pellets. On the down side, anyone can use them pretty much anywhere, even in the most benign settings, like your grandpa's funeral. Because your grandma is a douchebag. Nothing says "fun, fun, fun!" like an unexpected jab in the face.
SLAPSTICK: Slapstick was invented when someone decided getting hit with paintballs was bullshit, but watching other people suffer was tons o' fun. When I laugh at someone's pain, it's because I hate them and think they deserve it.
SLOT MACHINES: I tried to like slot machines. So many people seem to enjoy them. But then I realized I was plunking $50-$100 into a machine that offered all the excitement of watching my laundry tumble in the dryer. I could have used that cash to have some tiny, freakishly strong Asian woman dismantle my shoulder muscles. At least if I plunk enough quarters into the dryer, I'll end up with dry clothes eventually.
RUNNING: I'd like to be one of those people who thinks things like, "Whew! Feel those endorphins!" (I wouldn't say that out loud, because I'd expect someone to run me over with a car.) But mostly I enjoy eating cheese and watching "Doctor Who." I'd be less squishy if I altered the cheese-to-running ratio. Or maybe not. Maybe running would make me hungry for more cheese, and it would turn into a vicious cycle. I'll play it safe and just eat cheese.
Clearly, I'm no fun at all.