A Periodic Sweet Tooth
(My fiancé and I are getting groceries.)
Fiancé: “You’re about to start your period, aren’t you?”
Me: “What kind of a question is that?”
Fiancé: “Seriously? The cart is full of chocolate.”
Me: “Touché.”
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(My fiancé and I are getting groceries.)
Fiancé: “You’re about to start your period, aren’t you?”
Me: “What kind of a question is that?”
Fiancé: “Seriously? The cart is full of chocolate.”
Me: “Touché.”
(My three-year-old sister and I are wandering about the store while our Mom shops. We’re trying to find her.)
Me: “Do you see mommy yet?”
Sister: *with the most serious look on her face* “I can’t find her scent.”
(My fiancé has just come back from the store getting stuff for our two kids. In the bag is a can of mango juice.)
Me: “What do you want the baby to drink?”
Fiancé: “Give him the drink mix I just bought for him.”
Me: “Oh… that can thing? It was mix?”
Fiancé: “What did you do? You gave it to him straight, didn’t you?!”
Me: “I thought it was odd that you bought him a can of juice.”
Fiancé: “And yet you did it anyway. Why do I let you do things?”
(I go to a sewing supply store to get a separating zipper. The store is not self-service; you have to ask for your items at the counter. There are displays on the wall behind the counter with examples of all the items they sell.)
Me: “I’d like a separating zipper, please.”
Clerk: *brings ordinary zipper, the kind joined at the bottom* “Here you are.”
Me: “No, a separating zipper, please.”
Clerk: “This one separates, see?” *pulls tab up and down to show me that it opens and closes*
Me: *points at one of the zippers on the wall behind her* “I meant a zipper like that one.”
Clerk: *turns to her coworker and asks wonderingly* “Do we sell those?”
Me: “Can I have two plain slices of pizza and a side of fries?”
Waiter: “Sure.”
(I wait. He comes back, but with two slices of pizza with fries on them.)
Me: “Um…”
Waiter: “Is something wrong?”
Me: “I ordered two slices and fries.”
Waiter: “Oh, my god, I’m sorry!”
Me: “Don’t worry about it. Mistakes happen.”
Waiter: “You sure?”
Me: “I’m sure.”
(I am only able to eat one because it was filling, but it did taste great. Now whenever I get the same waiter, he makes sure I want my pizza and fries separate.)