Clearly Your Husband’s Not A Catholic

, , , , , | Romantic | September 12, 2020

I’m the author of Clearly Your Husband’s Not A Scorpio and thought I’d offer another gem my darling husband has come up with. To begin with, my husband is definitely very intelligent. He’s just in that category of “very intelligent with book-smarts but common sense has gone out the window.”

Early on in dating, making us in our late teens or early twenties, we are walking around our mall when we pass a Catholic priest. My future husband does a double-take.

Me: “What’s up?”

Husband: “Was that a Catholic Priest?”

Me: “Yeah?”

Husband: “I thought Hollywood made those up, like nuns!”

Me: “Nuns are a thing, too!”

Husband: “What?!”

He then looks at the priest’s briefcase.

Husband: “Do you think that’s his exorcism kit?”

Me: “What? No. No, it’s not. First of all, they don’t just carry stuff like that with them. I’m pretty sure they gotta get approval from the Vatican before they do an exorcism, anyway, and that can take time.”

Husband: “I’m gonna go ask.”

Me: “Leave the priest alone!”

My wonderful future husband had already let go of my hand and started following this poor priest down the walkway in the mall. He later returned to my side and informed me that the priest opened his briefcase to show that it was just paperwork he had with him.

Related:
Clearly Your Husband’s Not A Scorpio

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Killer Pizza From Planet Jerk

, , , , , , | Working | September 8, 2020

I’m the author of the story “Definition Of Love: Sacrificing Pizza For Your Child“. Not too long ago, my mom came to visit for the day and we stopped at a pizza place in the mall food court I’d NEVER had problems with before. Of course, this is the one time things go wrong.

Me: “Can I get two slices of cheese pizza and a drink, please? And could you use a clean spatula? I have an unusual allergy and don’t want any chance of cross-contamination.”

To my horror, and embarrassment considering how I’ve just been praising them to my mother, I watch the man use one of the pizza spatulas to pick up some pepperoni that starts to slide off a pizza, put it back on the pizza, and then use that same spatula to start getting my slices.

Me: “No, no! A clean spatula! Can we replace that slice and use a clean spatula? I’m allergic to pepperoni.”

Pizza Man: “It’s the vegetarian spatula, no meat!”

Me: *With an increasing level of panic* “I just watched you. Please just swap out the slice and use a clean spatula!”

The pizza man speaks more pointedly, rolling his eyes slightly and talking as if I were a child.

Pizza Man: “It’s the vegetarian spatula; we don’t use it with meat.”

A man in line after us chimes in that he watched, too, and is in the process of telling him to just replace it when my mother speaks up in her “You just screwed up BIG TIME” voice, causing a few people at a nearby table to look.

Mom: “Get the manager, NOW.”

A manager was fetched from the back, and once we told him what had happened, my food was replaced, and he handled it himself with a fresh spatula with a lot of apologies and a discount. I now keep a photo on my phone from when I had my childhood reaction, just in case I need to show pizza place staff that, YES, I do, in fact, have an allergy. I also did the survey on the receipt and told the story there. Apparently, that and the complaint to the manager helped, since the rude man wasn’t there the next time I stopped by.

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Sounds Like A Good Dothraki Wedding To Us

, , , , , , | Friendly | August 31, 2020

My husband and I are both volunteer firefighters at a volunteer fire company in Delaware while he is stationed at Dover Air Force Base. The fire company has a banquet hall that it rents out for events and also provides catering and bar service.

My husband and I have volunteered to assist the catering manager for a wedding. The groom is an Airman originally from West Virginia but stationed at Dover Air Force Base and the bride is his high school sweetheart. The wedding is a total disaster or a laugh-out-loud redneck fest, depending upon how you looked at it.

Here are some highlights:

After the wedding ceremony concluded and cocktail hour had started, my husband caught a bunch of rednecks drinking moonshine — illegal bootleg corn whiskey —  in the fire hall parking lot. This is illegal and could have cost the fire company its liquor license. My husband kindly asked the gentlemen to stop drinking in the parking lot. When they refused, he radioed on his duty radio for the town police to come. Said rednecks were angry about the police coming so they decided to storm into the fire hall to confront my husband. They ended up being chased out of the hall by our fire chief at the time, a very large Native American man who happens to be able to bench press over 300 pounds. The offending rednecks were then ordered off of the fire company property by the town police.

During the dinner, my husband and I were serving the requested meal of roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, etc. I was serving the gravy to the guests by ladling the requested number of scoops onto the guests’ plates after my husband put the plates down before the guests. I was walking back to the kitchen when a little girl tugged the sleeve of my shirt and said, “Paw Paw wants more gravy!” I had already served “Paw Paw,” an elderly man, three scoops of gravy. I took a fresh pitcher of gravy over to Paw Paw, and apparently, he wanted a grand total of ten scoops of gravy, literally flooding his plate! It was really lucky that we were in a fire station, just in case Paw Paw had a stroke from consuming that much salt!

The evening concluded with the bride getting into a knock-down, drag-out drunken argument with her mother because there wasn’t enough money on the bar to cover an open bar for an entire night. The bride then puked all over her gown and the handicap stall in the women’s restroom. She started screaming at me and stating that I should be fired because I was quite obviously trying not to laugh at the disaster that I had been watching unfold all night long. I informed her that both my husband and I were volunteers so we couldn’t be fired. The bride then tried to scream at me again but ended up puking all over my shoes.

One of her more sober friends drug her out of the fire hall and stuffed her into a pickup truck, separate from the groom. The groom, who wasn’t nearly as drunk, ended up apologizing to us for everything. 

It’s been five years since this happened and my husband and I often wonder if the bride and groom are still married.

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Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 23

, , , , , , | Right | August 21, 2020

I’m in a bookstore looking at some fantasy books when I see a woman in her early twenties walk up to a table full of “Harry Potter” books and merchandise. She strikes up a friendly conversation with a little boy around seven to nine years old.

Boy: “But, why’s he so mean?”

Woman: “When his mom got together with his dad and he was conceived, his dad was under the effects of a love potion. Magic made it so he could never actually feel love.”

Boy: “How come that makes him mean?”

Woman: “When people don’t feel love, and people can’t make them feel loved and important, they do all sorts of things to feel like they’re important — even if that means they’re only important because they’re scary.”

The boy nods for a moment in understanding and then voices a new question.

Boy: “What’s ‘conceive’ mean?”

The woman’s eyes grow wide, and for a moment she struggles to figure out the right wording before just giving up.

Woman: “That’s a question more for your mom, kiddo.”

She ran all the way to the escalator!

Related:
Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 22
Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 21
Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 20
Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 19
Cause For Pregnant Pause, Part 18

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Unfiltered Story #205721

, , | Unfiltered | August 19, 2020

(I’m running register when a family comes through with a plastic figurine of a chimera. Three heads, snake for a tail, wings, whole nine yards of mythological monster. Upon realizing it doesn’t have its tag, they insist that they don’t want to put us through the hassle of looking for its barcode number and decide not to buy it. It’s a pretty cool figurine, so I keep it at my register on the counter and a while later a mother and daughter come by. The daughter’s eyes are immediately glued to the figurine.)

Daughter: “Mom, Mom, look they /do/ have one!”

Mother: “Oh cool! We were looking for one of these.” *realizes it doesn’t have its tag* “It’s missing its tag though honey.”

Me: “I can ask someone to get the information for this guy it you’d like.”

Mother: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Absolutely, it’d be no problem!”

(I call out to a coworker to find the information, but we weren’t able to find the exact item. A manager approves us using the barcode of another figure in the line, which I explain to the mother, and it rings up a fair amount more than I’d expected. The entire time this process is going on, the daughter has been intently studying the figurine.)

Me: “It’s coming in at [price], it is showing regular-price so you could use a coupon if you wanted to.”

Mom: “That’s actually what we figured it was from the others on the shelf, you still want it [daughter’s name]?”

Daughter: “Oh, yes, please! I love him.”

Mom: “Okay, we’ll take him.”

(The mother pays, full price, and the entire time the daughter is bouncing on the balls of her feet. After handing them their receipt…)

Me: “You guys have a nice night, thanks for stopping by!”

Daughter: “I’m so happy I could faint!”