I was deployed to Louisiana as a volunteer disaster responder after Hurricane Katrina. The damage was so great, and the media coverage so thorough, that an unprecedented number of people volunteered for the first time to come down south and help out.

My job at the time was shuttle driver; I ferried volunteers and their luggage back and forth from the headquarters building and the local airport. Quite late one evening, I was called to pick up a young college student whose flight had just arrived.

When I got to the airport, she was standing next to an older woman who, as it turned out, was her mother. This woman got in a car and followed us to the HQ, followed us INTO the HQ, and then tagged after us while I signed in the new volunteer and showed her where she would be sleeping.  

Mom took one look at the sleeping room — three rows of snoring volunteers on rickety cots or on blankets on the floor — and hit the roof.

Mom: *Hissing* “You are not staying here!”

She grabbed her daughter by the arm and frog-marched her back out to the car.

This woman — upon learning that her lovely child had signed up to do relief work — had driven down to Louisiana from Ohio in her car, timing it so that she could meet her daughter’s plane and check us out.

I guess we didn’t pass muster. I felt so sorry for the girl; I wonder if she ever managed to get out from under Mom’s thumb.

I am watching “Midsommar” when my sister texts me asking me what I’m doing. I tell her I’m watching a movie and I’ll text her later.

Sister: “So, was that movie any good?”

My sister loves horror movies while I mostly find them boring. I enjoyed the movie enough so I think she would like it.

Me: “Yeah, I liked it. It’s free on [Streaming App], so you should watch it when you get a chance.”

Sister: “What’s it about?”

I decide to have some fun with her.

Me: “It’s about a woman who goes on a trip to Sweden with her friends and discovers herself in the process.”

Sister: “That sounds kinda boring, but if you said it’s good I’ll maybe try it.”

Later on in the week, I get another text from my sister.

Sister: “B****, you lied to me! You made it seem like it would be some feel-good movie. It was literally a horror movie!”

Me: “It’s from the same guy who did Hereditary; that should have been your first clue!”

Sister: “What’s Hereditary? I’ve never heard of it before.”

Me: “Oh, it’s a drama about a grieving family suffering from tragedy after the death of their grandmother. It’s really good; you should watch it!”

Sister: “Oh, f*** you.”

I recently had my septum pierced, which made my mom incredibly upset to the point she bribed me with a puppy to have it taken out. Ironically, it was pierced wrong, and no matter what, I was going to have to take it out. At least I was getting a puppy out of it! I insisted, though, that I wanted to adopt.

I am browsing for dogs online when my dad approaches.

Dad: “Make sure you get a pure breed.”

Me: “Why does that matter? And also, it’s going to be incredibly hard to find a pure breed that’s up for adoption and not just for sale.”

Dad: “Our last dog was a pure breed, and she was a good dog.”

Me: “But that has nothing to do with it! She was a good dog because we raised her well and she was just incredibly gentle and patient. You’re crazy. We’ll get whatever dog we get.”

Later on, though, my mom also hits me with this caveat.

Mom: “Don’t get a pit bull, a rottweiler, or any other type of bully breed. They’re dangerous and I don’t want an accident.”

Me: “Okay, but a dog’s temperament is usually based on how they’re trained. The aggressive nature thing is usually just a bad myth and leads to those dogs not getting adopted as much.”

Mom: “My house, my rules. No bully breeds.”

Finally, though, I settle on my dream dog up for adoption. She is a German shepherd labrador mix, so my dad lost out on his pure breed nonsense. Later on, we discover that that mix of dogs is considered one of the best you can get because of how loyal and loving they are. And during the first week we have her, my mom takes her to the vet just to make sure she doesn’t have any issues we need to be concerned with. The vet tells my mom that the dog might have a bit of rottweiler in her based on her appearance. 

Mom: “That’s okay. We love her anyway!”

She brought so much love and joy into our lives, and I still love how she basically was something that my parents were totally against but ended up loving in the end.

I had a friend in high school and it all went well until we were both twenty-five years old. We were the best of friends, but due to several circumstances, we stopped being friends. This friend had and still has a grandmother. She’s ninety-three years old, needs a walker, and smokes a pack a day, but she has a heart of gold. We used to visit her often.

Around the time I was twenty-eight, [Grandma] and I met by chance, and she invited me for a drink. From then on, I visited regularly, about once a month or every other month. I came to her birthday, she came to mine, and I visited around Christmas. I sent her flowers about three times a year and brought them every time I visited. She saw me as an unofficial granddaughter and said so herself. My biological grandparents were sweethearts, but one got dementia when I was in my early teens and my other one lived in another country, who I saw once a year.

[Friend] initially didn’t know about our visits, but two years after I started to visit [Grandma] regularly, she found out. She never said a word to either [Grandma] or me about it.

Now, the health crisis has changed our lives. [Grandma] and I talk on the phone and videocall. I went by her apartment last week to do a socially distanced visit so she could meet my new daughter. Everything went well. [Grandma] was proud. She told me how happy she was to have me as an unofficial granddaughter, and to have her unofficial great-grandchild from time to time. I told her I loved her and that I loved having her as a grandmother.

[Friend] called me yesterday evening. I was exhausted — I have a newborn — and the moment I picked up the phone, she started berating me.

Friend: “You greedy, money-hungry b****!”

She called me a couple of things more.

Me: “What the h***?”

I was so tired that I didn’t even know what to say. I eventually managed to ask what her problem was.

Friend: “My grandma has a copy of her will in her home; she left it out and I saw it. You’re to receive something from [Grandma] as her granddaughter!”

Yep, I am in her will, and she calls me her granddaughter in the will.

Me: “I don’t care what you think. [Grandma] can do with her things whatever she wants. I don’t care what she does.”

Friend: “What pisses me off is that you’re called a granddaughter when you’re not. You’re not entitled to anything! You need to stop calling [Grandma] your grandmother, because she’s not!”

Me: “It is up to [Grandma] to do what she likes. She calls me a granddaughter because, to her, I am just that. I call her my grandmother because that’s how she feels to me.”

After going back and forth for a while, I simply hung up.

I called [Grandma] and told her what had happened.

Grandma: “I had a feeling this would happen.”

Me: “How?”

Grandma: “[Friend] called me right before she called you and basically told me the same thing. I tried to call and warn you, but she was already on the phone with you.”

We talked with her son, who apparently already knew I’m in the will along with her sentiment. He expects there will be a storm when [Grandma] passes — hopefully not for a long time — but that will be our concern and not hers.

I told [Grandma] and her son that I don’t want to stir up trouble.

Grandma: “What I’m leaving you is something that suits you, and it’s my right and my wish to leave it for you when I pass. [Friend] can b**** and moan all she likes; it’s not hers to demand what happens with it.”

I don’t know what it is, although I have my suspicions. I hope not to find out for quite some time.

[Friend] has not called back yet. I hope it stays that way.

I am a bridesmaid in a dear friend’s wedding, and we are at the rehearsal the night before the wedding. It’s a fairly laid-back atmosphere and the officiant is just walking us through the steps of the ceremony.

Officiant: “All right, so then it’s time for the vows. Repeat after me: I, [Groom].”

Groom: “Hello!”

We all laugh; typical [Groom], a bit of a goofball.

Officiant: “Right, okay, let’s try again. Repeat after me. I, [Groom]…”

Groom: “’Sup.”

Now comes general confusion.

Officiant: “[Groom]. Repeat after me. I, [Groom]…”

The groom looks incredibly confused.

Bride: “Oh, my God, [Groom], say it back!”

Groom: “Hi, [Officiant]!”

Wedding Party: “NO!”

It turns out [Groom] was somehow hearing, “Hi, [Groom],” not, “I, [Groom],” which led to the confusion. We all laugh about his obliviousness and move on. As the rehearsal progresses, we come to the ring exchange.

Officiant: “Now, I know you have the rings in boxes right now, but tomorrow they’re going to need to be out of the boxes when you hand them to me. So, you’ll need to practice that. Okay, so, may I have the rings?”

The best man immediately hands over the rings in their boxes. We all groan. The bridesmaid next to me leans over

Bridesmaid: “Is that [Groom]’s brother?”

The answer, dear readers, is yes. It must be at least a little genetic. The wedding went wonderfully, though. This is why you have a rehearsal!