Story Time

Thanks again for your support, friends. I promised to write a story about anyone who commented on the last Humor Her post, but since it’s a new year and I’m feeling generous, I’m going to go ahead and write stories for anyone who either commented on the post or liked the update on Facebook. Sorry if you didn’t want a story. You’re getting one anyway.

Renee: Back in 1938, when I first arrived in France, I met a girl named Renee. I saw just a glimpse of her face as she left the pâtisserie, but it was enough for me to follow her to the 8^th arrondissement. She paused outside of Ladurée, and I introduced myself by recommending the lavender macarons.

Rebecca: She sprinted for the alley, where she knew she could throw them off, but she stumbled and when she turned around she saw the glint of the knife. “Didn’t think you’d get away that easy, did—what the—” The fat cat flew out of the dumpster and landed at Rebecca’s feet: “Gentlemen, you’ve messed with the wrong feline fanatic,” he hissed.

Jimmy: He could feel his heart beating through his chest and hoped he was the only one. “Endocrine—e-n-d-o-c-r-i-n-e—endocrine.” The crowd cheered for the child prodigy’s victory, but his little heart couldn’t take it and he fainted right on the stage.

Ally: Ally came home cradling a turtle and wearing what looked like a full bouquet of daisies in her hair. “That thing belongs outside!” her mother screamed. Ally looked down at the turtle and said quietly, “he just looked lonely.”

Kevin: Raised by wolves, the boy had developed a remarkable set of curly chest hairs by the time he was seven. His furry snout and smelly bum had helped him fit in with the pack, initially. But by the time he turned fourteen the pack could no long stand his stench, and he was left alone to ward off the cougars.

Well, there you are, my pals. These weren’t meant to be a reflection of your personalities or my feelings for you—just silly stories for you to enjoy. Don’t want anyone thinking Rebecca gets chased by thugs on a regular basis. Thanks again! 

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.