How the spanish language destroys all my jokes

So, if you missed the last post, or you have been living in a social-network- free zone, you don't know that Chavo and I are engaged.

But yeah, we are. So this is a disclaimer to my post that yes, I do love him. His ability to destroy most of my jokes does not take away from the fact that I do love him.

Anyways:

Something that one does not always think about when considering spending time with someone whose first language is not your own is the complete inability to tell jokes right. Why? Because sometimes jokes are puns. Puns don't translate. Ever. Like knock knock jokes.

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Police.
Police who?
Police open the door, its cold out here!!!

Yeah, that will not translate. Here's how you would tell a knock knock joke to someone who knows english, but its not their first language.

Knock knock
Uhhh... Who's there?
Cash.
Cash who?
No, thanks, but I would like some peanuts... You know. Because cashews.. Haha! Its a nut! But he doesn't want cashews, he wants peanuts!
But I didn't say cashew. I said "Cash who?"
But its a pun! Its funny, right?
Oh, yeah, hilarious... Ha. Ha. Ha.
Shut up.

Its just not fair! Its not his fault that the jokes aren't funny when translated! Jokes aren't funny anymore when you have to explain why its funny. Sometimes people are kind enough to laugh. But its not funny. We both know it. We will just keep up the niceties so that he doesn't feel bad for not laughing at my jokes, and so I don't feel bad because I just told a joke that's not even funny in english, much less in spanish.

I don't get jokes in spanish either. And we get to play the whole charade as well. It takes a very special kind of joke to translate.

Yes, this is a fairly short blog. So I'll leave you with a joke that does translate:

Gary and Pat were having some problems at home and were giving each other the "silent treatment." But then Gary realized that he would need his redhead to wake him at 5:00 am for an early morning drive with some pals to a golf match.

Not wanting to be the first to break the silence (and so lose the "war"), he wrote on a piece of paper, "Please wake me at 5:00 am." The next morning, Gary woke up, only to discover it was 9:00 am and that his friends would have left for the golf course without him.

Furious, he was about to go and see why his wife hadn't awakened him when he noticed a piece of paper by the bed. The paper said, "It is 5:00 am.

Wake up."