(I’m having lunch with my mom and brother, and the conversation turns to Netflix. This is right after the launch of Disney Plus, which my brother is obsessed with because Star Wars. My brother is extremely closed-minded about certain things, especially TV. In his mind, there’s almost nothing worth watching at all, especially when it comes to animated media. He believes the only good cartoon in the world is Clone Wars.)
Brother: We should get rid of Netflix.
Me: Why?
Brother: There’s nothing good on it anymore.
Me: Not true. There’s still some good shows, plus they’re getting better with their originals.
Mom: Besides, it has our British shows.
Brother: In a year, Netflix will be obsolete.
Me: They’re not going down without a fight. That’s why they’re making a live-action Avatar.
Brother: They already did that.
Me: The movie doesn’t count. And the creators of the show are taking the reigns this time, not Shyamalan, so it should actually be good.
Brother: You’ve never even seen the show!
Me: Oh yes I have!
Brother: No you haven’t.
Me: Oh yes I have! It’s an awesome show. You should watch it.
Brother: Weeb.
Me: It’s not anime, it’s just done in that style.
Brother: Weeb.
Mom: (brother), be nice.
Brother: No, I’m not going to be nice to any weeb. I hate that I’m related to one. Anime should be banned. It turns your brain to mush. Besides, nothing good ever comes from Japan.
Mom: I’ll take your Toshiba laptop back then. And leave your sister alone. If she wants to watch anime, let her watch anime.
(My mom also has negative views towards anime, though not as extreme as my brother.)
Me: First of all, I don’t’ watch anime. My friends have tried to get me into it, but they like the super gory stuff and that’s not for me. And second, Mom, Speed Racer is an anime.
(Speed Racer was one of her favorite shows when she was a kid.)
Mom: No it’s not, it’s a Japanese cartoon.
Me: That’s called an anime.
Mom: Growing up, we just called it a Japanese cartoon.
Me: It’s anime. You like an anime.
Brother: She’s right, Mom, Speed Racer is anime. But she’s still a Weeb.
(My brother ran out of the room before I can say anything else.)

I’m in my Sophomore year of high school. It was near the end of the school year, and a very warm out. Normally I wear a baggy hoodie, shorts with leggings, and knee-high lace-up boots. I’ve been told I look like a walking anime character. On this summer day, I was wearing a tank top and shorts that showed off my curves a little more than I was used to, without my leggings and boots, of course. I was leaving to go home and as I walked through the door, from behind me I heard a voice say “DAAAAAAMN!” like a cat-call. Surprised, I turned around to see one of my friends and a guy I have seen around and spoken to, but didn’t really know. When the guy saw my face he immediately got a horrified epression and said “Oh s***, it’s you!” My friend was laughing his a** off, and I know the guy meant it as a compliment, so I laughed too. After that, any time he saw me around, he would just start apologizing. I just took it as a compliment.

(My dad has always enjoyed cartoons, and fueled my love for them early in life by making sure to show me all the cartoons he loved growing up. In my case, this quickly branched out into a love for anime as well. Now as an adult, I’m repaying him by showing him various anime that suit his taste. Important note: my dad also has a HORRENDOUS memory when it comes to show and character names, and the foreign/odd ones found in anime definitely make it worse. He will usually refer to whatever we’re watching as “the show” instead of by name. Then one day:)

Dad: Are we going to watch more Assassination Classroom today?

Me: Oh my goodness! You remembered the name, I’m so proud of you!

Dad: To be honest, I only remembered because I saw it pop up on Oo-low earlier.

Me: … did you mean Hulu?

Dad: … that wasn’t intentional.

Me: *dies laughing*

(So close, yet so far. He’s doing much better remembering names now though!)

Content Warning: Domestic Abuse

One night, I hopped on Facebook Messenger and left my sister a brief pick-me-up message.

Me: “Just wanted to check in with you. Know that I love you, and any time you need someone to listen to you, I’m right here!”

I then noticed I’d hit the wrong contact who had the same first name as her and sent the message to her. I corrected myself.

Me: “Oh, snap! Wrong [Name]!”

I sent the message to the intended recipient and went on about my day.

A few days later, I casually open my Facebook to see a message from someone I didn’t recognize. The letter was in all caps and laced with copious amounts of profanity. Thinking it was some moron who didn’t like a comment I’d made on a political video, I deleted it without reading it, blocked him, and moved along.

The following day, I got a message from the person I’d mistakenly sent the message to.

Friend: “Hi, I know that message was intended for your sister after she lost her job. I need you to do me a favor, though. Tell my soon-to-be ex-husband that (as well as the nature of our relationship) so that he knows what he backhanded me onto the floor over, subsequently ending a total of eight years together with three kids, since I’m not going to stay with any man who puts his hands on me. He’s actually the guy who sent you that message.”

It was one of those “I’m going to h*** for laughing at this” moments. Unblocking him, I simply wrote:

Me: “Bro, I have no idea what’s going on, but that message you saw was a misfire. I meant to send it to my sister. I don’t know your wife personally at all; I met her on a programming forum about six months ago. If you’d taken the time to read our chat history, our topics have included coding, cats, anime, ‘Final Fantasy’, and cleaning skunk odor off my dog. This is aside from the fact that I live abroad as an independent contractor (currently in Tokyo) and haven’t even been back in the US for going on fourteen years. Good luck with your divorce, though. Maybe some anger management courses might be in your best interest?”

He didn’t answer, but true to her word, his wife took the kids and divorced him. I really hope he feels like a genius.

I sell carnivorous plants at local shows and events, including science fiction and comic conventions. It’s not a real convention unless I’ve had this conversation at comic and anime conventions, which is why I’ve mostly stopped doing either:

Rando: “Hey, I came by earlier, and the other guy here at this booth told me that I could [get a discount on this incredibly rare and expensive plant] or [take it for free] or [I could pick it up and take it now since I’ve already paid].”

Me: “The Other Guy?”

Rando: “Yeah, the other guy at your booth. I talked to him about a half-hour ago.”

Me: “I’m the only guy here, and I’ve been here all weekend.”

Rando: “Oh. So, can I still have it?”

The terrifying part? It’s watching the same man going from booth to booth, trying the same routine at each booth in the hope that it eventually works.