Girls like a sense of humor, not a zombie dripping blood. Someone let the boys in on this.
Asked to outline the ideal man, Venusians have always put a sense of humor at the top of the list (right after a six-pack and a six-figure salary). It never occurred to me that humor was up to interpretation. Either something’s funny, or it’s not. "Zombieland" proved me wrong.
A classic tale of an awkward college boy looking for love in an undead-infested America, "Zombieland" was my introduction to violent humor. If slapstick was crude, this went way beyond repulsive. The average Venusian isn’t a gore lover. The average Martian, I recently discovered, is. The obese grocery store gluttons were a hit, dribbling blood and fat as they walked, as was the nun who dropped a piano on a ravenous zombie, splattering inn
ards all over the pavement. Classic.
And as I cowered under a jacket, every male in the theater was splitting his sides laughing like John Cleese was doing standup. It occurred to me then that men and women might not see eye-to-eye on comedy. There might be some people out there who don’t find Demetri Martin and Jon Stewart funny. There might be someone out there who actually enjoys dead baby jokes.
Somehow, two hours of rotting flesh and bubbling blood opened my eyes to more than the gritty details of the undead. A mere sense of humor won’t cut it anymore—it’s got to be the right one. So next time, boys, forgo the dead baby jokes in favor of a killer pun or two. It worked for the zombies.
