Cheek-Slappingly Funny

, , , , , | Romantic | December 4, 2019

(My husband, my brother, and I are about two-thirds of our way into a ten-mile hike. Things have not been going according to plan; for one, my husband is hobbling along on a sprained ankle he got from a nasty slip a couple of miles back. As we were too far in to turn back — the journey back would have been all uphill — and he would probably have to stay in the wilderness overnight if one of us left to get help, which he resolutely decided against, the only thing to do was to keep going. We haven’t seen many people, though we are certainly not alone; a lovely swarm of mosquitos is graciously accompanying us every step of the way. Of course, I forgot the bug repellent in the car. I’m keenly aware of the time I told my parents to expect our arrival at the car park, the fact that we will probably get there at least two hours after that time, after dark, and how worried they’ll be because of it. On top of all that, at this present moment, we appear to have lost the trail — for the second time on this whole journey — even though I was sure we’d stayed on the path.)

Husband: “Look, everything’s going to be fine. We’ll just head back the way we came, and I’m sure we’ll find a fork we missed somewhere, and we’ll pick up the trail again.”

(We turn around, my brother leading the way. He quite sensibly wants to get out of here as fast as possible and walks quickly on ahead. In contrast, my rational brain decides it has reached its limit of what it can handle today and decides now is a good time to take a time-out.)

Me: *hyperventilating* “This can’t be happening. How far back do we have to go before we find the trail? It’s already almost dark, my parents are probably s***ting themselves, and there’s no reception. What if–“

Husband: *grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me around* “Sweetie, calm down. We’re gonna find the trail, and we’re gonna find our way out.”

Me: “But–“

Husband: *firmly* “We’re not gonna die, okay? We–“

Me: *slaps him*

Husband: *blinks*

Me: *realises* “There… No, there was a mosquito. I’m sorry! You had a mosquito on your cheek!”

(I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.)

Husband: *dryly* “Well, gee. If I’d known that was all you needed to feel better. Here, wanna slap the other cheek, too?” 

Me: “No, no, it was a mosquito, I swear! There really was a mosquito!” *laughing uncontrollably*

Husband: *smirks* “Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, dear.”

(We arrived at the car park several hours later, well after dark, to the immense relief of my parents. My husband’s ankle took some recovering; it was pretty swollen for a day or two. On the bright side, he now gets to brag about the time he hiked six miles on a sprained ankle. He also gets to regale the admittedly hilarious account of how HE had to calm ME down only to get brutally slapped for his valiant efforts. The honest truth, though, there really was a mosquito.)

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Downward Facing Crane

, , , , | Romantic | December 3, 2019

(My husband and I are walking our dog one morning on the sea wall. The tide is in, but several large rocks protrude above the water. A heron is perched on the very top of one of the largest, with several smaller shorebirds arrayed in a rough semi-circle on a slightly lower level.)

Me: “There’s an illustration for you: ‘Heron preaching to the oystercatchers.’”

(Just then, the heron stretches out one wing and cranes its neck around to preen under it.)

Husband: “No, apparently, it’s a yoga class.”

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Meet My Friend, Gaston!

, , , , , , | Romantic | December 2, 2019

(In my early 20s, my best friend decides I should date her boyfriend’s roommate. We have seen each other at group gatherings, or whenever I go see my best friend at her place. I don’t think we are a good match, so I kind of just ignore the subtle pushing until my best friend decides to have a straightforward discussion about it.)

Best Friend: “Why don’t you try dating [Boyfriend’s Roommate]?

Me: “I don’t think we have anything in common, really. I don’t see us be anything, even as friends on our own I’m not sure…”

Best Friend: “Don’t say that; you both play [music instrument]!”  

Me: “Yeah, but I believe that’s where it stops. Otherwise, what hobbies does he have? Going to see strippers?”

Best Friend: “Oh, I’m sure that he’d stop going if he had a girlfriend.”

Me: “I’m not so sure about that.”

(I don’t want to start a debate about this kind of industry. I also don’t want to have to explain how starting a relationship with someone on the hope I’ll make the guy change is a terrible idea. People don’t change, seriously.)

Me: “Also, the only other thing I have seen him do or talk about is smoking weed.” *not legal at that time* “Which, you know, I’m no crusader against, but I still disapprove of recreational drug use.”

Best Friend: “You have to cut him some slack; he can’t drink alcohol.”

Me: “Well… I may drink a glass here and there, but I’m no big fan either. I just can’t see myself having to skirt around my own boyfriend whenever he’s under influence, or have me withdraw all the time for his habits.”

Best Friend: “Don’t be like that; he has some good points, too! Like, he’s still a gentleman and strives for higher education lately.”

Me: “He called me a witch when I said a three-syllable word!”

(Thankfully, she stopped there and so did the date pushing.)

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The Indecent Proposal Before Christmas

, , , , | Romantic | November 22, 2019

(I’m an employee at a popular Halloween and costume store. With Halloween around the corner, it’s getting busier. Lines at the register are long; there’s even a line at our fitting rooms, which I’m helping manage. A younger guy walks up to the side of the counter and asks if I work there. While refraining from gesturing to my bright purple apron with the company’s name on it, I smile and say:)

Me: “Yes! Can I help you with anything?”

Customer: “Yeah, do you have any [Character I don’t know] costumes?”

(I don’t remember seeing that name on any packages in the store. It’s not a large store, but I have missed some things before.)

Me: “I’m not entirely sure. I don’t recognize the name.”

Customer: “Well, she’s a p*rn star.”

(Sexy nurse? Sure. Sexy priest? I can show you. Sexy ninja? Right behind you. P*rn star? Can’t help ya.)

Me: “Sorry, we don’t have any p*rn star costumes. I’m not sure how popular it is, but even so, we don’t have a lot of the classics, either.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. Do you have any sexy costumes? For women?”

Me: “Yes, of course! All of our adult costumes are on this half of the store. Women’s are mixed in, with all the sexy costumes, too.”

Customer: “Okay, great! Do you have any wigs?”

Me: “Yep, we have a whole wall of wigs in the back of the store.”

Customer: “Okay. I don’t really like how my girl looks, so I’m trying to dress her up.”

Me: *trying my best to keep my working smile on and my tone polite* “Okay, yeah, we have a ton of wigs in the back, as well as many other accessories including corsets, leggings, and gloves!”

Customer: “Okay, great! Can I have your number?”

(No leading up to it. Blunt. He literally just said he had a girl, and even bashed her looks. Of course, this is the one day I came into work dressed up.)

Me: “Um, sorry, but I’m kind of working right now. It would be unprofessional of me to give out my number.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. I feel you.”

(He walked away. I didn’t see where he walked to. I got back to working the fitting rooms and never saw him again. I had a good laugh about it later on. Everyone I told agreed that he was a pig. A pig with ramen noodles for hair.)

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It’s Better Than Pooty Pie

, , , , , | Related Romantic | November 18, 2019

(I just started dating a woman who still lives with her family. The first time I come over to her house, I notice my phone number pinned to her bedroom wall, surrounded by hearts and the words “bitsy pookums.”)

Me: “Um…”

Girlfriend: “My sister thinks she’s so funny.”

(I married her anyway. And yes, I did catch the “Calvin and Hobbes” reference.)

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