Crush Their Spirits While They're Young

People treasure humbleness as a human characteristic. We praise people who don’t realize how talented they are. At the same time, we spurn people who practice false modesty. “Oh, he’s just fishing for a compliment.” I’m not one to automatically assume someone is being falsely modest, but I would like to share a parable about the dangers of practicing such false modesty. This one comes from the 7^th grade chapter of Cecily’s life.

[Sweating my 7^th grade butt on the track during gym glass]

Short boy: Hey.

[Now just vaguely pretending to run]

Me: Hello.

Shorter boy: Hey.

Me: You’re really short. I mean, hey.

Short boy: Do you have a boyfriend?

Me: [Guffaws] No.

Short boy: What if I told you that somebody likes you?

Me: I’d say you were smoking crack. I mean, I’d say you were crazy.

Short boy: Well, shorter boy here likes you.

Me: [Thinking about the fact that someone would like me, and not thinking about the boy who actually did like me] Ewww.

Shorter boy: [Deeply offended] Ewww?

Me: That’s not what I—

Shorter boy: You’re really going to hurt someone’s feelings some day.

[Shorter boy runs off crying]

Moral of the story: Strangely enough, putting yourself down in front of other people can actually make those people feel worse about themselves. 

Also, 7^th grade boys are babies. 

The Fourth Flush

So, there’s this thing on the market. It’s called a low-flow toilet. If you can’t figure out what it is from the name, it’s basically a toilet that uses less water, and is, therefore, better for the environment. They’ve been around for a while now, and they’ve gotten significantly better since the 90s. But every once in a while, you still run into one that just . . . sucks.

Let me paint a picture for you.

[Flushes toilet]

Toilet: Fffff—

[Looks at toilet, puzzled]

Me: Really? You couldn’t even suck down a few meager squares of the cheap stuff?

Toilet: Nope.

[Decides to flush again, because nobody likes a mushy toilet paper greeting]

Toilet: Okay, fine. Ffff—

[Checks one last time]

Me: You’ve GOT to be kidding me.

Toilet: Nope, I’m not. I sucked down your toilet paper and spit up just a few disintegrated morsels. 

[Walks out of stall, refusing to waste more water]

Toilet: Ffff—

Me: A FOURTH FLUSH!? What are the people outside this door going to think!?

Toilet: I do what I want.

[Walks outside]

Everyone: Geez, Cecily. Four flushes?

You’ve got good intentions, low-flow. But if you really need to flush four times, you’re not doing your job. Anyone not had this experience?

**edit

Ahem. Someone pointed out to me today that there are actually only three flushes in this post. This is why I'm not an accountant. I'm leaving the title. I like the alliteration. 

Tiny Ruffians that Want to Kill You

I love animals. Animals rock. They’re funny, adorable (for the most part), and essential for life on earth. But I’m not going to talk about animals today. Nope. That was just a set up for the cruel sentiments to come. Because you want to know what I hate?

I hate bugs.

Hate ‘em! They’re evil, blood sucking, stinging fiends. Even the cute ones like ladybugs will pee all over you if you catch them.

So, I venture out into nature for a day, sans ugly beast repellant, and this is what I get in return:

[Showering]

Me: Oh baby, you--you got what I neeed. But you say I’m just a friend. But you say I’m just a fr—

[Hones in on strange black spots on knees]

What the? [Picks at them] Those aren’t exfoliating beads. Those things are . . . moving. Oh. My. God. They’re TICKS!

[Turns off shower, accomplishes epic dry-off and dress time, runs sobbing to boyfriend]

Are these ticks!? Are these ticks!?

Boyfriend: . . . Yeah.

Me: OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD. What do I do!? Get them off!

Boyfriend: [Buries head under pillow]

Granted, I was dumb enough to go into the woods without wearing any bug repellant, but those jerks clustered everywhere. I probably had close to eighty seed ticks all over my legs. I’m not exaggerating. And now, weeks later, they still itch like hell and are producing a satanic, oozing sap. Not to mention, I probably have Lyme disease.

No more deer season. I’m starting a “stomp on anything smaller than a butterfly” season. Who’s with me? 

Bistro Market Fail

I like people. You probably wouldn’t know it if you met me at a party (chances of that are already slim), because I’d be sitting in a chair, eating cheese and interacting with no one. But, generally speaking, I do like people. I think they’re fun and interesting. And most of them are nice. But sometimes, something happens and the cynic in me starts to ooze out of my pores, turning me into a misanthropic, anti-social, brooding bitch.

Usually, it happens after I’ve done something embarrassing in front of a whole bunch of people. At first, I get upset with myself for doing something humiliating, but in the end I blame the other people for being present during my public misfortune.

A few weeks ago at work, we were getting ready to entertain some clients. On my lunch break I volunteered to go pick up some Goldfish, cheese, and other miscellaneous snacks for their stay. The closest place to pick up groceries is the Bistro Market downtown. I park, pick up a half-size shopping cart (the only size available) and finish my aisle rounds. Nothing too embarrassing yet.

After I’m done paying, I start to roll out of the market with my cart full of goodies. The automatic door opens and BAM, my cart spills forward, and I tumble over it, falling into a pile of Gruyère and Aquafina.

[Stares into the market briefly, begging (with her eyes) for someone to come to her aid]

“Oh my god, oh my god.” (mumbling to the cheese)

[Gets up and tries to put everything back while the automatic door REPEATEDLY HITS THE CART]

“Stop it, stop it.” [Trying to fight off automatic door]

[Finally, an elderly man comes over to offer his assistance]

Elderly man: “Well that sucked, didn’t it?”

Me: “Yes. Yes, it did. Thank you.”

[Walks back to car with cart, giving the stink eye to everyone who didn’t offer to help her] “Bunch of jerks.”

You know why no one helps people in embarrassing situations? Because they’re usually pretty damn funny to watch from the outside. In fact, the worst part about this story is that a week prior to this event, I had been sitting in the restaurant across from the Bistro Market, seen a woman fall on her back while she struggled to save her iced coffee, and tried desperately to stifle my laughter.

People are wonderful because they do hilarious things. People are awful because they sit idly by while hilarious (but unfortunate) things happen to others. 

Icky, Icky Feelings

I don’t have a lot of feelings, but when I do, I have feelings in inappropriate places. Take, for instance, my most recent breakdown.

It happened at a Kohl’s.

In the middle of the women’s department.

To make a short story even shorter, my younger sister just left for college. She now lives 2,000 miles away from me. So, my grandma and I were taking her shopping before she left. She started talking about how she would need a hoodie, and, just like that, something about her talking about hoodies, made me snap.

[Reaches hand out toward sister]

Sister: What?

Me: [Small, whimpering sound]

Sister: What?

Me: I want to give you a hug. [Starts bawling]

Sister: OHMYGOD.

Me: [Still bawling]

Grandma: [Starts bawling]

Sister: Seriously, guys? Seriously?

Me & Grandma: [Bawling while nodding “yes”]

Sister: I don’t know you people.

Grandma & I: [Hug each other]

I managed to pull it together when my sister started to run away from us. I didn’t want to be separated from her before I had to. Feelings are hard. How do normal people deal with them?