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I’m Not Bossy…

| Working | October 30, 2013


A Negative Reaction To A Negative Reaction

| Working | October 30, 2013

Don’t Go Gentle On Him

| USA | Related | October 30, 2013

(My cousin is probably the rudest person I’ve ever met. Whenever he’s in town, I beg my parents to let him stay with them so he doesn’t stay at my apartment, because he’s always so rude to my female neighbors. This particular visit, he DOES have to stay at my house, and I’ve recently gotten a new neighbor.)

Cousin: “D***, baby, youse all kinds of ffooiine!”

(My neighbor replies absently as she looks through her mail.)

Neighbor: “Don’t use words you can’t spell, Dear; it’s not cute.”

Cousin: “Hey, b****! You owe me respect; you best be showing it!”

Neighbor: “Do something to earn it.”

(My cousin runs ahead and opens the door he thinks she’s headed to.)

Cousin: “A true gentleman opens the door for a b****, and then slaps her a**!”

Neighbor: “Does that also mean ‘true gentlemen’ have broken wrists?”

Cousin: “You can’t break my wrist; youse a girl!”

(My cousin tries to grope her, and ends up face-first in the carpet in a submission hold.)

Neighbor: “I’m going to give you a little tip: don’t try to grope corrections officers.”

Cousin: “You’re a WHAT?!”

Neighbor: “And I would recommend that you actually learn what being a true gentleman means if you really want people to treat you with respect.”

(She lets him go, and heads back to her apartment. I’ll admit, though, after this my cousin actually did try to be a better person, and was WAY more respectful!)

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No Longer A Virgin Land

| Portland, OR, USA | Related | October 30, 2013

(I am about nine years old. My mom and dad are helping me to memorize the states. I get through most of the states without an issue.)

Me: “Vagina, Washington, West Vagina…”

Mom: “Yes, very… wait, what?”

Dad: “Say that again. What state was that?”

Me: “West Vagina?”

(My dad is laughing and smiling.)

Dad: “Yeah. Yeah, that’s the one. ‘West Vagina.'”

Mom: “No! Not West Vagina!”

Me: “East Vagina?”

An A-Salt To The Senses

| USA | Related | October 30, 2013

(I am 12 years old. I am home alone, and raiding the fridge for a snack. I find nothing except some takeout my dad has bought. Inside is an innocent looking burrito. I take big bite and it is the spiciest, most painful thing I have ever eaten. I gulp milk and eat ice, but the pain is getting worse. I go into the living room and scream into a couch pillow so the neighbors won’t think I’m being murdered. I hear my dad and mom enter the kitchen and open the fridge.)

Dad: “Hey, did you eat my burrito? It is spicy; am I right?”

Mom: “Huh? No, I haven’t touched any burrito?”

Dad: “Then who is home?”

Mom: “Just [My Name], I think.”

Dad: “Oh dear… she doesn’t like spicy food…”

(They finally find me in the living room, and calmly watch me roll around on the couch in agony.)

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