Boy Bothered By Bonus Brother

, , , , | Learning | October 17, 2017

(It’s “Meet the Teachers” night at the high school. Due to a large age gap with our children, we are attending for the first time in a long time. We get to the language teacher’s classroom. He was a favorite with my older children and their friends. The teacher loved these kids, and has an awesome sense of humor.)

Teacher #1: “Welcome. My name is Mr. [Teacher #1], and I teach languages. This should be the parents of the first year German students. It looks like you are all new to the school, correct?” *notices us* “Oh! No, I see some repeat offenders.”

Me: “Yes, you do. I should start by saying I’m sorry. I let my son spend his summer with his brothers and Mr. [Teacher #2]. I’m really sorry.”

Teacher #1: “You should be. He’s been telling horrible jokes and repeating terrible things.”

Me: “Yeah, I suspected as much.”

Teacher #1: “You really shouldn’t have let him spend time with them.”

Husband: “We know, but it’s hard, since he lives in the same house as his brothers.”

Teacher #1: “And Mr. [Teacher #2]? You really owe me for that.”

Husband: “Well, he is our bonus kid.”

Teacher #1: “Fine. But be aware; I take cash, checks, credit cards…”

(We laughed and he turned to look at the rest of the room. All of the new parents were staring and looking very worried. That was the day I realized my kid went to school with the children of humorless people.)

In Starch Contrast To Medical Advice

, , , , , , | Right | October 17, 2017

(I work as a receptionist at a hotel. The bar in our lobby serves food as well as drinks. I am working the night shift. It is around 3:00 am when I get this call:)

Me: “Front desk, how may I help you?”

Guest: “Hi, can you connect me through to the bar?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, the bar closes at 11:00 pm.”

Guest: “Well, my daughter is having an allergic reaction, so we’d like some French fries.”

Me: *baffled* “Your daughter is having an allergic reaction… and you want French fries?”

Guest: “Yes.”

Me: “I think you should get her an ambulance.”

Guest: “No, it’s fine. We just need some French fries.”

Me: “I really think you should get her an ambulance. Besides, there is no one at the bar at this hour. How would French fries even help?”

Guest: *somewhat condescendingly* “Well, French fries are made of starch, and starch will help fight the allergy.”

Me: “Well, the deep fryer requires special training to operate. I couldn’t get you fries even if I wanted to. Again, I implore you to call an ambulance.”

Guest: *talking to someone else in the room* “He wants us to call an ambulance.” *click*

(They didn’t call again after that. No ambulance arrived. I hope his daughter was okay. I never heard of starch helping with allergies, and I couldn’t find anything on Google to support this.)

Love Through This Family Flows Heavily

, , , , , , | Related | October 16, 2017

(I am in a group chat with my aunt who resides in Australia with her family, my mum, and my grandmother, who used to be a nurse back in the day. We are all close and have a great sense of humour. All this happens over text. My aunt has just told us her two sons are sick with Influenza B, and recounted an amusing story, during which her younger son was acting up due to his sickness, and his older brother whispered, “So much drama.” )

Grandma: “I would love to have been there to witness all that!”

Mum: “I’m bleeding to death. My period is so heavy. Do you want to witness that, too, Mum?!”

Grandma: “You think I’m crazy?!”

Mum: “Why are you playing favourites? Why is drama cute when [Aunt’s Youngest Son] does it, but not me?”

Grandma: “Because one is a kid, and one is a matured lady, I hope!”

Mum: “I’m still bleeding to death, just in case you decide to care!”

(As this is going on, I’m quickly searching up some information online and find what I need.)

Me: “You’re losing five pints of blood?”

Mum: *eye roll emoticon* “Maybe four.”

Me: “You mean 1892 ml of blood? When the average heavy flow is 65 ml?”

Mum: “Yup.”

Me: “Twenty times more than the normal ‘unusually heavy’ flow?”

Grandma: “Just drink lots of fluid to maintain the body volume.”

Mum: *sighs* “Don’t see you telling [Aunt’s Youngest Son] to drink lots of fluids!”

Me: *copying a comment from earlier in the chat* “‘Hope the boys get well soon. Make sure they drink enough.’ Actually, she did.”

Grandma: “Ignore your sister, [Aunt]. She’s just being silly.”

Mum: “Dying is not being silly!”

Grandma: “Yes, it is, when it’s merely lip service.”

Hooli-gone Crazy

, , , , | Related | October 14, 2017

(I’m talking to my brother on the phone. He lives abroad and is calling from a payphone.)

Me: “Hey, remember that time with the hooligan?”

Brother: “What hooligan?”

Me: “When you called me, and there was a hooligan breaking the phone next to yours.”

Brother: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “There was a banging noise, and when I asked you about it you said a hooligan was breaking the phone next to you. Then you asked him to be quiet and he said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t notice you,’ and gave you one of the coins that had fallen from the phone, as an apology.”

(As I relate the story, I begin to realize that it makes no sense.)

Brother: “…”

Me: “You know what, I probably just dreamed that. Never mind.”

(We laughed.)

Talking About Music Therapy Requires Therapy

, , , , | Working | October 14, 2017

(I can’t complain too much because I end up getting my license renewed in 10 minutes, but I have the weirdest conversation with the employee who processes it.)

Employee: “Wow, 21? Did you get hammered on your birthday?”

Me: *the question takes me by surprise, but I laugh a bit* “Oh, no; I just went out for a drink with some friends. I was living in New York before coming back to Colorado, which is why the license is so expired.”

Employee: “Oh. So, what were you in New York for?”

Me: “Completing my clinical hours for a degree in music therapy. I worked in hospice, on an adult and pediatric program.”

Employee: “Aw, where babies go to die?”

Me: *pause* “Unfortunately, yes, sometimes.”

Employee: “So, music therapy. You help people sleep?”

Me: “Not quite.”

(I explained a little about music therapy, grabbed my license, and shimmied on out of there. All I know is that I didn’t go through four years of school and 1,200 clinical hours to help people sleep!)