Not Much Scarier Than Flagrant Misogyny

, , , , , | Related | July 20, 2018

My cousin and his wife have been ribbing me ever since I gave their daughter nightmares by showing her a certain Robin Williams movie about a magic board game.

Tonight at dinner, their daughter starts talking about waking up scared again and, fearing the worst, I ask why. She points to her father and says, “We watched Ghostbusters.”

Cue my cousin’s wife glaring at him, while he indignantly tries to claim that the movie wasn’t scary because it was “stupid” and “starred four women.” I don’t know about the movie, but the look in her eye was frightening enough!

Hoping You’d Be Able To Belly-Band Together

, , , , , , | Related | July 19, 2018

(I grew up an only child. I’m currently seven months pregnant, and though I moved out of my parents’ years ago, I only live a couple of miles away. I suspect someone is going through our mail, so I usually have packages sent to my parents’ address.)

Me: “Oh, Mom, I was just going to let you know that I’m expecting a package from [Store we often shop at]. It’ll probably arrive next week.”

Mom: “Okay. Clothes? Or something big?”

Me: “Clothes. [Husband] picked out an outfit for the baby, and I ordered a belly-band.”

Mom: *looks at me quizzically* “A belly-band?”

Me: “Um, yeah. It’s kind of like a belt that’s supposed to help support my stomach and redistribute some of the weight off my back. After running around all day, it kind of feels like a bowling ball strapped to my front.”

Mom: *rolls her eyes* “When I was pregnant, we didn’t have belly-bands. It wasn’t a big thing. Seems a bit excessive.”

Me: “Um. Okay. Well, it’s a pretty common thing now, and if it helps my comfort and it’s on sale, why shouldn’t I take advantage?”

Mom: *exasperated sigh*

(For the record, I did get my package, and as soon as I put the band on, I felt like I could stand up straight for the first time in weeks!)

Really Feline This Solution

, , , , , | Related | July 18, 2018

Mother: “You had rats as pets, right?”

Me: “Yes…”

Mother: “That means you know how to deal with my rat infestation, right? I’ve tried killing them with poison and traps, but I’m thinking the best is to get a cat. Remember when our old cat got into your room and killed your hamster?”

Kindle(ing) For The Fire

, , , , | Related | July 17, 2018

(I’m walking through the living room carrying my Kindle when I slip and fall. My brother is nearby playing a video game.)

Me: “Ow! What the h*** was on the floor?!”

Brother: “You okay?”

Me: “Yeah, I just banged my knee… Aw, d*** it, my Kindle’s broken!”

Brother: “Okay, calm down. It’s only $50 to get it fixed. Please don’t flip out.”

(I put my face in my hands and take a few deep breaths, then sit down.)

Brother: “I just want you to be ‘$50 and a hurt knee’ upset, not ‘$300 and a broken leg’ upset. I feel like a lot of the tension around here lately has been because people get mad over every little thing.”

Me: “Yeah, I know.”

(I actually have calmed down — I was only really upset for a minute or two. I start looking online at prices for a new Kindle. Unfortunately, I’m having trouble concentrating, because I’m interrupted by this:)

Brother:G**d*** it! Of course it starts lagging right as someone targets me! I wish this game would just pick a f****** speed! F***!”

(I had no idea “laggy video game” upset was so much worse than “$50 and a hurt knee” upset. I may have to suggest that he stop playing entirely if it’s causing him that much trauma.)

Screaming Children Have Their Ups And Downs

, , , , | Related | July 16, 2018

(I am with my family at an amusement park, and we are queuing to get on a log flume. There are three to a log, so it’s my younger brother in front, stepmum at the back, and me in the middle. This log flume is three steadily escalating hills. We go up the first hill with no problem… or so I think:)

Younger Brother: *who has learning difficulties* “That was horrible; I’m glad it’s over.”

Me: “Uh… We have two more to go through.”

(We started up the second hill. My brother started yelling that he wanted to get off. Once we went down that hill, he started trying to stand up and get off. My stepmum, behind me, was trying to force him down into his seat. Eventually, we went down the last hill, and the picture after was basically my screaming, crying brother trying to get off, my screaming stepmother trying to force him to sit down, and me in the middle with this, “Oh, for f***’s sake,” look on my face.)

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