(I have a very nasty horse. There hasn’t been a year I’ve owned him that he hasn’t had me in the hospital for some severe accident. The two most recent both needed surgery after nearly ripping my arm off my body, and breaking my arm so badly it turned two small wrist bones almost to dust. Most of my family wants me to sell him but my cousins love him. I’ve gone to visit them with my arm in a cast with the stabilizing rods sticking out of it.)

Female Cousin: “You know I really don’t want you to sell him, but it might be better for you if you did.”

Me: “Well, you and [Male Cousin] are the only ones who aren’t threatening to sell him behind my back. I had to move barns and not tell anyone so they wouldn’t do it while I was here.”

Male Cousin: “Meh, it’s your life, and if he ends it we’re your beneficiaries.”

Me: “And here I thought you just didn’t want me to give up my last semblance of happiness in the world.”

Female Cousin: “Nah, we couldn’t care less about the horse. We just want the money.”

(My mom, my grandmother, and I are having dinner. I’m in my teens and still eating a lot. I grab another pork chop from the center of the table.)

Mom: “Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to eat it.”

(Later on, Mom examines the juice she’s drinking.)

Mom: “This juice isn’t what I was expecting. I don’t really like it.”

Grandma: “So why do you keep drinking it?”

Mom: “I don’t know. It’s sitting there and I just forget and take another sip.”

Me: “Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to drink it.”

Mom: *glares at me*

(Dinner at my nephew’s wedding is delicious. It’s also Southern: barbecue, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans cooked with onion and a ham hock. The wedding cake is red velvet. There is one lonely-looking salad, included perhaps to keep the entire menu from being blackballed by the American Heart Association.)

Out Of Town Guest: *poking the chicken dubiously* “Maybe if it was baked…”

Local Guest: “Oh, honey. This is Missouri. We don’t bake anything.”

(I live with my dad and my brother. Lately, I got sick of working in customer service so I quit and started looking for a job in a warehouse. There weren’t a lot and I was out of work for months. During that time, my dad, who likes to always have the last word of everything, comes up to me.)

Dad: “Get a job! Do something!”

Me: “I am looking!”

Dad: “Go to school! Do something!” *leaves*

Me: “What the h***?”

Brother: “It’s normal for parents to harass their children.”

(Fast forward a few weeks after that, I finally get a job at a shipping warehouse. During all this time, my dad has been harassing me. Everything goes well until my boss makes me do something dangerous, and I trip and fall. I break my ankle and go to the hospital and get a cast. I can’t work.)

Me: “See what happened?! You told me to go and get a job and I do and I break my ankle!”

Dad: *completely baffled* “Uhh….durr?” *walks away*

Brother: “It’s all your fault for listening to your boss. Take some responsibility.”

(I can’t wait to move out!)

(I live in a city that is the home of a very well known evangelical leader. I am driving home from church with my family when we spot a custom license plate and try to decipher it.)

Husband: “High school comeback?”

Me: “Oh! I bet it’s ‘He’s coming back.’”

Daughter: “Who’s coming back?”

Husband: “Jesus.”

(Pause.)

Me: “Or The Terminator.”