Dry Wall And Dry Humor

(My girlfriend of two years and I have just moved in together. One of our friends who is helping us move accidentally falls against the wall, knocking a hole in it. My girlfriend is more handy around the house than I am, so fixes it with a drywall patch. My parents show up for a little housewarming dinner. I went to culinary school, something my father isn’t too proud of. This is also the very first time they’ve ever met my girlfriend.)

Father: “I smell paint. Did you finally stop being a girl and fix something around the house, boy?”

Me: “No, dad. You said it yourself; I’m about as handy with home repair as using a sandwich for a drill. [Girlfriend’s name] knew how to fix it, so she did it.”

Father: *to my girlfriend* “You? You did this?”

(He spends the next twenty minutes examining the wall trying to find her patch, and he can’t.)

Father: “Where did you learn to do that?”

Girlfriend: “My dad.”

Father: “So basically, your dad raised a boy with girl parts.”

Girlfriend: “According to your redneck idiot logic, you raised a girl with boy parts. But no, I don’t think of it that way. I think of it as being raised knowing how to handle myself.”

(My father is sputtering, speechless and turning an ugly shade of purple.)

Mother: *to me* “Don’t screw this up, honey. I like this one.”