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Funny stories about family

When It Comes To Dogs, Love Is Love

, , , , , , | Related | September 14, 2021

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.

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Being A Grandma Is About More Than Blood

, , , , | Related | CREDIT: nerothic | September 13, 2021

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.

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Weird Rehearsal, Good Wedding, Right?

, , , , , , | Related | September 13, 2021

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!

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At Least She Didn’t Say, “Your Soul,” Or Something Creepy Like That

, , , , , | Related | September 12, 2021

For my birthday, my husband volunteered to supervise a sleepover with our kids and my best friend’s kids so that my best friend and I could have a night away with no responsibilities. We had fun, the kids had a blast, and my husband got a funny story when he found my best friend’s five-year-old wandering the hall at one in the morning.

Husband: “Is everything okay? Do you need something?”

Five-Year-Old: “I’m just… I’m looking…”

Husband: “Can I help you find something?”

Five-Year-Old: “I’m looking for my most favorite thing in the world.”

Husband: “What is it?”

Five-Year-Old: *Wide-eyed, deadpan* “I DON’T KNOW.”

She eventually wandered back to bed, and to this day, we have no idea what her favorite thing is.

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You Break It, You… Don’t Write A Letter About It, Dummy

, , , , , | Related | September 11, 2021

My uncle has a large plot of land that is mostly left wild because he struggles to keep it maintained. I go over a few times a year to help out.

Me: “That fence in the corner is broken again.”

Uncle: “Well, you did only bodge it back together.”

Me: “No, remember, I was going to do a temporary fix. But then I found some more wood so I did it properly.”

Uncle: “Weird. Could you fix it again and see if you can reinforce it somehow?”

Me: “I can have a look, but you should really consider planting those thorny plants I suggested.”

Uncle: “I doubt anyone is breaking it on purpose; there’s nothing there. It’s a dead end. Just some bad luck.”

Me: “Okay, but buy some plants anyway.”

I fix the fence and I do a good job of it. No way can anyone accidentally break it this time. My uncle buys the plants and, to be fair to him, he actually gets some large mature ones. 

I don’t plant them right near the fence, in case someone were to cut them back. Instead, I put them just out of sight. Even with gloves and a thick jacket, I’m covered in scratches.

It takes me all day, but I get it done. I finish the day by nailing a no entry/no public access sign to the fence and call it quits.

It’s a few months until I go back, and my uncle is standing there with a smile on his face.

Uncle: “You will never guess what happened.”

Me: “What?”

Uncle: “The fence is broken again; someone must have taken a sledgehammer to it.”

Me: “Why are you smiling, then?”

Uncle: “Because they are trying to sue me for it!”

Me: “That still doesn’t explain the smile.”

He hands me the letter. In it, they admit to damaging the fence all three times, and they make note of the sign and not asking for access. They incorrectly ramble on about public access. The wording is frantic and seems to frame the writer as some sort of hero of the people. It ends with a threat of legal action and the name of a solicitor.

Uncle: “[Solicitor] already called me, and I have another phone call this afternoon. I can’t wait to go over the details with him.”

The phone call went ahead. It didn’t take long for the solicitor to understand that their client had not only broken the law but had admitted it, too. Eventually — and after several legal threats — they had to pay for all the damages, my time, and the plants for the fence. We didn’t get any more break-ins after that.

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