I’m a college student living at home to save money. On class days, I have an extremely late lunch break, so I make myself a big breakfast in the morning, so I don’t need to carry snacks around.

One morning, I’m frying eggs and peppers for a breakfast burrito while my younger brother sits at the table waiting for our mom to bring him to school.

Brother: “You should get a job torturing people.”

Me: “…Why?”

Brother: “All you have to do is cook stuff and not let them eat it.”

I know he’s at the “bottomless pit” stage of adolescence, but a compliment is a compliment!

I’m doomscrolling, and I start laughing.

Mom: “What is it?”

Me: “‘Thot’ is now in the Oxford English dictionary.”

Mom: “What does Thot mean?”

Me: “It’s kinda offensive slang for a promiscuous woman. It’s a good thing you don’t know what it means.”

Mom: “I wish they’d stop inventing new words! We have enough! It’s driving me delulu!”

I laughed at Mom’s joke. Her confused look told me she wasn’t joking.

I have grandparents whose answer to any argument is that we can trace our family lineage back to the Mayflower (we can’t, BTW). It doesn’t matter the topic or argument; they’ll always find a way to move the goalposts to make their lineage relevant. I could tolerate it before, but they’ve moved in for two months while their house is being renovated.

I’ve just got back from school, and I’m talking to my mom about a history project I’m working on. Grandma butts in:

Grandmother: “Why have they got you learning all this Black History stuff?”

Me: “Because it’s Black History month, Grandma.”

Grandmother: “You’re an American in an American school; you should be learning about American history!”

Me: “We are. Black History Month is about Black Americans. It covers slavery up until now.”

Grandmother: “Ugh, slavery again. That’s all they talk about!”

Me: “Yes, I can imagine it can be annoying to have someone talk about historical boat journeys across the Atlantic over and over again.”

Grandmother: “…”

A few weeks later, at the start of a new month:

Grandmother: “So, have you gone back to real American history now?”

Me: “I’m studying this now.”

I show her a book about the Navajo, Cherokee, and Sioux tribes.

Grandmother: “Your school never teaches about real Americans!”

Me: “These are real Americans!”

Grandmother: “What about Washington! Lincoln! I’m going to talk to your principal next week and talk about your history teacher! We can trace our lineage back to the Mayflower so they should listen to what a real American has to say.”

Me: “Grandma, if you think any connection to the Mayflower is what makes you American, then I think the Navajo, Cherokee, and Sioux have you beat.”

Grandmother: “There’s no winning with your generation!”

Me: “It’s not an argument when it’s facts versus feelings, Grandma.”

I was so happy when they moved out.

Related:
Our Great DiscrimiNation, Part 8
Our Great DiscrimiNation, Part 7
Our Great DiscrimiNation, Part 6
Our Great DiscrimiNation, Part 5
Our Great DiscrimiNation, Part 4

This conversation happened over text:

Dad: “Hey, do you have a copy of [document he’s working on] on your computer? I accidentally deleted 200 pages’ worth of it.”

Me: “Uh, yeah. I have a copy that’s three weeks old, from the last time I visited your place. Will that work?”

Dad: “Yes, that’ll work. The part that got deleted should still be in that older version. I need you to send it to me.”

Me: “Hang on, I’ll email it to you.”

I send him an email with the older version of the document in it.

Me: “There, I sent it.”

Dad: “It’s not showing up.”

Me: “Not showing up? You don’t see it in your email?”

Dad: “It’s not showing up here.”

Me: “In text?”

Dad: “In email!”

Me: “You said here. This isn’t email. This is text.”

Dad: “What the f*** are you talking about?! I keep telling you to stop doing this s***! Why don’t you just send it?!”

Me: “I just DID send it, to your email.”

Dad: “IT’S NOT SHOWING UP HERE!”

Me: “Open your internet browser, go to your email, and look in there.”

Dad: “Why the f*** would I look on the internet? I want it here!”

Me: *Facepalming.* “Fine, I’ll send it to you over this text message.”

I attach the file to a text message and send it.

Me: “See it now?”

Dad: “You sent it to my phone! Why the f*** would you send it to my phone?!”

Me: “That’s what you just asked me to do.”

Dad: “NO! SEND IT TO MY F****** COMPUTER LIKE I HAVE BEEN SAYING ALL ALONG!”

Me: “I DID that already.”

Dad: “NO, YOU EMAILED IT! DON’T EMAIL IT! SEND IT TO MY COMPUTER!”

Me: *Facepalming again.* “Emailing it IS sending it to your computer!”

Dad: “NO! I’M ON MY PHONE!”

Me: “THEN GET ON YOUR COMPUTER!”

Dad: “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE THIS S*** SO F****** HARD?!”

My mom was picking me up from middle school one terrible day. I was picked on all that day and was just looking forward to going home and licking my wounds for the next day. She saw that I was depressed and wanted to cheer me up. She got my attention, and when I looked over, she had her hand up to her forehead, making the ‘L’ for loser gesture, and a big innocent grin on her face. Seeing my mom making fun of me, I just kind of brooded for the rest of the ride home.

When we got home, she asked:

Mom: “Why didn’t you say it back?”

Me: “Say what back?”

Mom: “I love you!”

She put the ‘L’ gesture to her forehead again.

Me: “Mom, that doesn’t mean what you think it means. It means loser. You called me a loser!”

We both laughed. Now it’s an inside joke we do to each other all the time.