Other People's Stories

I choose to surround myself with funny people. Not necessarily funnier than me, of course. I don’t need that kind of competition. But, funny people nonetheless.

And often, these funny people have funny stories. And since I am bizarrely compelled to share funny stories with the world, I will share with you now, the funny stories of Emma, Renee and Debra...


Emma’s Story
July 29, 2000

My friend, Emma, is the most adorable British woman that I have ever met. She's genteel, proper and kind, and I love her accent. Being a sucker for a proper British accent, I could listen to her read the ingredients on a cereal box and find it the most charming monologue I have ever heard. So, to hear her recount her tale of the most publicly embarrassing female-related incident, made me bray with laughter as only an improper Yank would do.

After I stopped laughing, I told her she needed to start her own on-line diary and begin it with that tale. She told me that I should just post it on my web-log instead. So, here it is: Emma the Proper Brit's Most Publicly Embarrassing Female-Related Tale (as told by me, the Improper Yank).

Needing to purchase some, uh, feminine products, Emma rushes into her local deluxe pharmaceutical chain (CVS Pharmacy, to be precise) with the intention of buying a box of sanitary towels. (She pronounces it "sani-tree" towels, making them sound all exotic and everything. Where I come from, we just call 'em pads -- or worse, rags. But, then again, I'm from Georgia.)

Anyway, with only mere minutes before CVS is to close, Emma dashes about the store in search of these items, but to no avail. There is not a sani-tree towel to be found. Finally, she spots a familiar site -- a box marked "Kotex." In a haste she grabs the box and rushes to the check-out.

Immediately, a line forms behind her consisting of (of course) three men. The first two are young, college types, and the third man is an elderly gentlemen of about eighty. Even though it is a natural process, one that everyone on the planet over the age of at least 12 knows about and understands, very few women are still comfortable purchasing sanitary pads (towels, napkins, whatever). Few men will do this, while even fewer men will talk about or even acknowledge this wonder of nature. So, to have an audience of three men while buying any item even remotely related to this phenomenon makes Emma a bit uncomfortable. But, hey, even the British reproduce, right?

The cashier is a female and for this Emma is grateful. A fellow sufferer of "the curse" will be quick and discreet, allowing Emma to make her purchase and scuttle out of the store while still maintaining her dignity.

Or so Emma thinks.

The female cashier looks at Emma's purchase, and in a volume of voice usually reserved for capturing the attention of someone standing several miles away asks, "Are you sure this is what you wanted, dear?"

Stunned by this sister's betrayal, Emma politely stammers, "Why, yes." While thinking, "What is happening to me?! Just hurry up!"

The cashier again looks at the purchase, then back at Emma, and again asks, "Are you sure, dear?"

Looking around for that hole that would mercifully appear in the floor and swallow her up, Emma again replies, "Yes, I am sure." While thinking, "Please, please let this end soon!"

Obviously feeling like she hasn't made her point, this evil traitor to her gender explains the reason for her seemingly rude questioning, "Honey, these are incontinence pads. I think you want sanitary pads."

In a state of horrified mortification, Emma grabs the box, mumbles, "Thank you," and rushes to return the embarrassing would-be purchase to its shelf. As she passes her fellow customers, the two young men quickly duck their heads and avert their eyes (as any polite young man in this situation would do), embarrassed to have been anywhere near this conversation, much less anywhere near a box that would contain either incontinence pads or sanitary ones. 

However, the last man in line, the elderly gentlemen, catches Emma's eye - and winks.

Mortified, Emma deposits the offensive box on the nearest shelf and ducks out the door without having made her intended purchase.

She has not been back to that store since -- for fear she ever run into that old man again.

Thanks for the story, Emma. :-)



Renee’s Story
March 30, 2001

I will begin by saying that this is, indeed, a true story. I did not experience it first-hand, however. I am relaying this story from my cousin, Renee. But after having heard this story, I soooo wish I had been there.

Renee attends a large church with an even larger choir. Being an extremely talented and gifted singer, Renee is a member of this choir. (And often a featured soloist. As I said, she is extremely talented and gifted. She gets it from me.) Anyway, Wednesday night during choir practice she and her fellow singers had an encounter with one of those truly random and bizarre people who wander this earth in search of situations in which to present their true randomness and bizarreness.

Just as the choir director was stepping to the podium to begin his directing duties, a woman entered the rehearsal hall, walked the length of the room, and stopped in front of the choir director. She then asked him if she could say a few words.

Let me point out that no one knew this woman. Dressed in a somewhat grungy fashion and carrying a backpack, she was a stranger to everyone in the room. Confused, I am sure, but curious, perhaps, about what she had to say, the choir director stepped aside and allowed her the floor.

This woman stepped in front of the podium and, speaking clearly into the microphone, began to lecture the choir on the dangers of confusing live wires with ordinary clothes lines.

Seriously.

She spoke at length about how people should be made aware of the fact that if you pick up a live wire thinking that it is just a clothes line you will be badly injured, maybe even killed. People should also take caution not to step on these live wires that crouch hidden in the grass disguising themselves as harmless little clotheslines just waiting for some hapless victim to stumble across them. Some people just do not know, she said, and they have to be told. Live wires can kill.

When she was finished, the choir director thanked her, and she began to leave. She then suddenly whipped back around and asked, "You don't want the Devil to get you, do you?!"

To which the choir director responded, "Uh, no ma'am, we sure don't."

Then the woman turned back around and departed, leaving the bewildered choir to ponder the dangers of confusing clotheslines with live wires, and just what exactly that has do with Satan.

The choir director watched her walk out the door, turned back to his charges, and went directly into the next song. No one spoke of the incident, no one commented on their strange visitor. Renee, fearful of setting off a non-stoppable chain-laugh reaction, chanted "don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh" inside her head while attempting to sing. Even after rehearsal was over, no one talked about it. I guess some things just don't need to be discussed. Everyone chose to mull over this important life lesson in private as its profound meaning began to sink in.

Later, Renee said (and I quote), "Just think. I could have been out in my yard this summer, about to hang up my clothes to dry, and unwittingly grabbed onto a live wire! I could have been killed simply because I didn't know any better! I thank the Lord for sending this real-life guardian angel to us all."

Okay, so that's not a direct quote. But you get the idea. I mean, who knows how many innocent lives this woman has saved, how many horrible electrocutions she has prevented in her crusade to educate and enlighten? She is probably out there, right now, spreading the word, stopping choir practices all over the nation to teach, to warn, to save.

Because I'm telling you, people -- they are out there. And they are in larger numbers than we care to admit.



Debra’s Story
September 26, 2001

One week, Debra came to Atlanta for a visit and she stayed with me for a couple of nights. On a Tuesday, I left her at my apartment while I went to work fairly confident in her ability to take care of herself in my absence. How wrong was I?

In the early afternoon, I got a phone call from her and she was laughing hysterically. After she told me why, I was laughing hysterically. And after I shared this story with all of my co-workers they, too, were laughing hysterically.

Here is what she told me:

After spending the majority of the day lying on the sofa watching television, Debra decided she would be productive and take a shower. (Just so you know, she was on vacation from work and school and was looking forward to just lying around and doing nothing. I tell you this so you don't think that Debra has nothing better to do with her time than lie around on other people's sofas watching television on a Tuesday.) Before getting into the shower, Debra placed two towels on the toilet seat. While in the shower, she realized that she had left her facial cleanser on the counter by the sink. She reached through the shower curtain and leaned over the toilet to get the cleanser, placing her hand on top of the towels to support herself.

Unfortunately, Debra had forgotten one very important detail -- she had not put the lid down on the toilet. The towels, and her hand, went straight to the bottom of the toilet bowl, pitching her body forward and sending her legs flying up in the air. She froze for a moment, still in that position, and thought, "Okay. I am wet. I am naked. And my arm is in a toilet up to my elbow."

She laughed through the rest of her shower, as well she should have. And while that story still makes me smile, I am glad that she wasn't hurt beyond a nice bruise that appeared on her arm. I would have hated to come home and find her lying passed-out-naked on my bathroom floor with my toilet full of towels.

Thanks for the entertainment, Deb. I know I can always count on you to make me laugh.