Don’t Have To Be A Baby About It

(A friend invites me over to her apartment to hang out and watch a movie. Several other friends also show up, and her roommates, who I don’t really know, invite their friends, too. The movie chosen is the original “Rosemary’s Baby.” It’s a pretty light atmosphere as we’re watching it and some of us, especially me, make jokes through the whole thing. Most of my quips land in the “dead baby joke” arena. Fast forward to about a year later: I’m hanging out with several of the same friends again, and the name of some girl I don’t know comes up.)

Friend: “Oh, yeah, [Girl] just hates [My Name].”

Me: “Uh, excuse me? Who is this?”

Friend: “You don’t remember [Girl]?” *gives a physical description*

Me: “I have no idea who that is.”

Friend: “Well, she was at my apartment that night we all watched Rosemary’s Baby. She was really mad at you because of all the dead baby jokes you were making, as she’d just had an abortion that morning.”

Me: “I’m at a loss for words to describe how little of that is my problem.”