Apparently, I'm Not Very Funny Here

Here's the thing about humor: it doesn't translate well. Now, I don't know about your run of the mill jokes, your Knock-Knock's or your Yo Momma's, on account of I don't often make those. No, this is more in reference to jokes where you keep a straight face and people often question whether or not you're kidding. In short, sarcasm. It's hard to say whether or not Italian culture has a form of dry humor, it must, but regardless, mine is not appreciated. In these first three days of living in Florence I've found that people, for whatever reason (that reason, of course being that we are speaking different languages), take what I say at face value. They are very quick to accept statements such as "Don't worry, my pants don't even have any pockets to pick" as true. More often many of my words are lost in translation at which point the potential for pleasant banter quickly dies. And strangest of all, people here don't instantly die of laughter when you say something is pretty, pretty, pretty good. Perhaps Italians have there own sense of dry humor, but, well, I don't get it.