An FHE to Remember

Part I

Last night I woke up from my nap just in time to head over to FHE. After a short lesson we played a very interesting game. The basic idea is that one person stands in the middle, blindfolded, with a pillow. He or she then walks around the room and hits the other seated participants with the pillow. When he or she does, the person hit must snort like a pig. Then the one blindfolded must guess who it is by the snort. If the guess is right, the snorter goes to the middle. If wrong, the one blindfolded must move on to someone else.

Sounds stupid, but it is actually pretty fun.

Except for poor Leeza. Leeza, you see, has an incredibly high-pitched giggle, that easily transforms into a high-pitched pig squeal. And she can't stop herself from laughing. This makes it very easy for anyone blindfolded to know who she is. So, when Drew was in the middle, he was pretty relieved to find that he had hit a squeaking, squealing girl pig with his pillow. But he just stood there, paused in an inexplicable stupor. He had to know it was her; the laugh was unmistakable. Yet he stood there silent. Finally, he said, "Leslie? It's Leslie, right?" which, of course, no one wanted to respond to for fear of giving up their location. The convulsions and flailings and mouth-grabbing moments of silent, contained laughter only added to the awkward tension as Drew continued to ask if it was Leslie. We eventually let him now that it was Leeza, but that we would count it. He removed the blindfold ans sheepishly sat down.

Only five muntes later, Drew was back in the center, swinging his pillow wildly. He again hit Leeza. The girl was laughing so hard inside that she didn't even snort. She just convulsed as he continued to prod her with the pillow. Eventually, she couldn't hold it any longer, and a single high-pitched, squeaking laugh escaped. "Leslie!" he cried in triumph. The whole room, once tensely silent, erupted in disbelieving laughter. "It's Leeza!"

Part II

As I ate the Oreos for treat, a quote scribbled on a post-it note on the wall caught my attention. "You are not a loser. You were once a sperm, among millions, and you made it to the egg." As I laughed about that, one of the girls in the apartment turned me around and said, "You are not a loser," continuing the quote. Frazzle B overheard and looked at her in confusion. We pointed out the quote on the wall and he laughed too. The girl explained how one of her professors had said that in class. "So now we know we are not losers," she said.

Frazzle B interjected: But does that apply to girls, too?

Girl: Frazzle B! (in a shocked, pitying way)

Frazzle B: What?

Limon: No, girls are just made of eggs. Lots of eggs. We'd better get out of here.

Part III

On the way home, Frazzle B and I explained what he had said inside to JTS.

Frazzle B: And then Limon said, "No, girls are just made of eggs. Lots of eggs."

JTS: Yeah, that's why they're so stupid.

Ironic that a night of Leslies, eggs, and the origins of women's stupidity should end with that assertion. Somehow it seems it might not be the girls . . .