Challenging me to write humor is like asking. . . umm. . . well, you see, I forget the rest of the joke. I just can’t tell a joke! However, I like to remind people that just because someone can’t tell a joke, doesn’t mean they don’t have a sense of humor. I laugh a lot, but it usually requires a phone call with a friend or sibling to make me feel like a humorist.
Here’s something that happened today. I ran into a door.
That’s not funny. I cringe at so-called humor of the slipping-on-a-banana-peel variety. So if you laughed at this, you laughed without me. That’s okay. It’s kind of funny looking back on it, being that I’m here now, nothing broken or bruised.
Back to the accident: you’ve probably done the same thing—turned around suddenly, and bam!
After that, along with ice, I got this advice (paraphrased): “Don’t do that”.
Hours later, I had the chance to similarly advise someone I found in the middle of a renovation project. Seeing things all over the floor, a yellow caution light flashed in my mind. How many times have I stubbed my toes! So I said to him, “be careful; don’t stub your toe.” Maybe feeling a bit shy about my warning, I felt I could validate it by adding, “well, today, you know, I stubbed my face.”
“Stubbed your face?”
The wording got us laughing. But why? Why is the expression “stubbed face” wrong?
This reminded me of a niece, around two-years in age, caught sight of a barnyard chicken who was, well, let me put it delicately: being prepped for dinner. She saw it running around without its head and said, “the chicken has a bad owie on his face.”
This post written was in response to the Weekly Writing Challenge at WordPress. You can read others’ posts here.