Spend €8 For A Priceless Moment

, , , , , | | Friendly | May 15, 2019

(I have a friend who loves designer handbags. Still, she would never buy such frivolous nonsense for herself, as she expects to be given expensive things by men. She once joined my husband and me on a holiday, which she mostly spent window shopping at every bag shop she encountered, wasting a lot of precious sightseeing time educating us on all her material wishes. A year after the catastrophic trip, my husband and I are abroad again. One day, he brings back a cheap, used counterfeit handbag from a flea market, proud to be the first man to ever buy my friend a bag of her favourite brand. We decide to have some fun, so I message her.)

Me: “[Husband] has bought a handbag for another woman today! Should I be worried?”

Friend: “Which handbag?”

Me: “Who cares?! Tell me your opinion; do you think it’s troublesome that he buys stuff for someone else than me?”

Friend: “Depends on the handbag.”

Me: “It is brown and quite ugly, and it smells strange. So, tell me, what is that bag saying about the state of our marriage?”

Friend: “Send a photo; I cannot judge the situation without seeing it first.”

(We pose for a selfie: my husband grinning and slapping his forehead, me with an overly dramatic, panicked expression.)

Friend: “Not of you! I need to see the handbag!”

(I send a badly-lit photo of the handbag in its plastic bag.)

Friend: “Take it out! It could be a [Brand Bag]!”

(I write a price tag, formerly 1600 Euro, now only 799, and place it on the unobscured handbag.)

Me: “Happy? Can we discuss the actual matter now?”

Friend: “It’s a [Brand Bag]! It’s the [Model]! Steal it from him!”

Me: “Really?”

Friend: “It’s sooo beautiful! He should have consulted me, though; usually it’s just 550 Euro.”

Me: “He must have thought that the woman is worth more.”

Friend: “She is really lucky! You should take it from him; then he can’t give it to her!”

Me: “What if [Husband] just buys another one? It wouldn’t solve any of my problems! Besides, it’s ugly and I don’t need a bag.”

Friend: “How can you say that?! I have always wanted this exact bag! It deserves to be loved and worshipped!”

Me: “So, do you want to know anything about the woman? I’m still waiting for your advice!”

Friend: “Sure.”

Me: “She has a strange desire for expensive things and can sometimes be incredibly slow. Who does this sound like?”

Friend: “Forget the other woman. You have to steal the bag from him immediately! And then you give it to me!”

Me: “How am I supposed to do that?”

Friend: “You wait until he is asleep, and then hide the bag. I’m going to meet you at the airport and make it disappear. What is he doing right now?”

Me: “He has been shaking his head since we started texting, and just muttered something about live reality TV and an exceptionally stupid person. Any ideas what that could mean?”

Friend: “See, he doesn’t even care about how you feel right now! Another sign that the bag should be mine!”

(The next morning:)

Me: “So, have you figured out who the materialistic woman the handbag is for could be?”

Friend: “No, but you are going to steal it for me today!”

(A couple of days later, we are back home and I meet my friend.)

Me: *handing her the wrapped bag* “Here, I stole the ugly thing for you.”

Friend: “Wow, really? I didn’t think you would actually dare to do that! Wonderful! Did [Husband] notice?”

Me: “Sure.”

Friend: “What did he say?!”

Me: “After he bought it, ‘I have got the perfect gift for [Friend]!’, and this morning, ‘How can [Friend] be so ignorant?’.”

Friend: “It was for me?! I’m so happy– Hey, wait, no! This bag is fake!”

(I’m not sure if that or the whole prank bothered her more. To this day, she has been waiting for a millionaire to magically appear and reward her with a luxurious life. My husband still refers to the incident as the best 8 Euro ever spent on entertainment. I now know who to never consult when I have relationship problems.)

The Cutest And Sweetest Littlest Volcano

, , , , | | Friendly | May 14, 2019

(I’m out with friends at a low-key bar. One of my friends has brought her twin sister, who is super shy to the point where she has trouble talking to people. My friend is super tall, very muscular, and tomboyish; her twin sister is much shorter, not muscular at all, and very feminine. I notice a guy my friend has previously had trouble with and go to mention it to her so we can move.)

Me: “[Friend], [Guy] showed up. Let’s move to the game room.”

Friend: *sighing* “Yeah, why not.”

Sister: *confused* “Who?”

Friend: “The guy I told you about? Who called me a lesbian and tried to start a fight with me because I wouldn’t give him my number?”

(To my surprise, [Sister] immediately shoves her can of soda into my hand, runs at the guy, and starts tearing into this man who has at least a foot on her. My friend walks over to stand behind her. She somehow deescalates the situation and we all go inside, even though [Sister] is still obviously fuming. I offer to buy her a drink to calm her down, and her sister follows me to the bar.)

Me: “What the h*** was that?!”

Friend: “She’s very protective.”

Me: “So protective she was ready to f****** DIE?!’

Friend: “I guess!”

Me: “She’s lucky you were standing behind her and looking menacing! I wouldn’t wanna fight you!”

Friend: *frowning* “I wasn’t looking menacing, [My Name]. I was getting ready to grab her in case she decided to beat the s*** out of him. The last thing she needs is to get arrested for assault.”

(That was the night I learned that my friend’s sister had gotten into at least one other fist fight with someone harassing my friend and has a temper like a volcano. With the way my friend described it, I have no doubt that this tiny lady could kick the s*** out of anyone if she was angry enough. She’s a total sweetheart once she gets over her shyness, so I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around this.)

Made A Boob Of Herself Via Yours

, , , , , , , | | Friendly | May 13, 2019

(Our college has a small gym and locker room with three shower stalls with curtains for privacy. In fact, the locker room has a lot of little options and ways to change privately so you don’t have to walk around naked if you don’t want to. I’m more introverted and modest, and I greatly appreciate the privacy while my friend who, although she doesn’t walk around in her birthday suit every day, is much more comfortable with her body and is very extroverted and talkative. She’s in the middle stall with me humming quietly to myself to the right of her, and a frustrated sounding woman to the left of her, indicated with some grunts and sighs. Suddenly, the woman to the left of her stops her shower, wraps herself in a towel, and marches over to my friend’s stall, yanking the curtain.)

Friend: “Hey!”

Woman: “Would you stop the—” *pause* “Whoops, sorry. Wrong one.”

(I freeze and realize that the woman was probably upset with my humming and had thought my friend was doing it. I already stopped when I heard the commotion, but she apparently still wants to give me a piece of my mind because I hear her squeaking footsteps coming towards me! The woman is just about to reach my stall before my friend manages to slide out of her shower and stop her, blocking the woman’s way by spreading her arms and legs out like a barrier.)

Friend: “NO!”

Woman: *recoiling and almost shrieking* “Gaaah! Put on a towel!”

Friend: “Well, hey! You were the one who wanted to see ’em without permission! I’m not letting you see my friend without theirs!”

Woman: “Ew, ew, EW! EwewewewEWWWW!!”

(I hear the woman squeak away and chuckles from other women who are standing in line for the shower. I poke my head out, seeing my friend still standing in the way of my stall, dripping wet and completely nude.)

Me: “I, um… thank you. I didn’t know how fast I could’ve grabbed my towel without slipping.”

Friend: *still standing there* “No problem.”

Me: “She freaked out more than I thought, though. Why was she so grossed out?”

Friend: “That… was an accident. When I slid in front of her, she had been reaching out to grab your curtain away, and well… she kiiiind of grabbed my boob, instead.”

Me: “…”

Friend: “Just a light slap, on the left one. A gentle cup. Definitely wasn’t intentional on my end and completely doubt it was intentional on hers, but it happened. She kind of scratched it when she pulled away, but it doesn’t hurt—“

Me: “[Friend]?”

Friend: “Yeah?”

Me: “Your shower’s still on.”

Friend: “OH, CRAP!”

(We finished up quickly and laughed about the experience afterward. Thankfully, there weren’t that many other people in the line that we took shower time away from, and they all forgave us anyway. We occasionally see that one woman, but she never makes eye contact with us now. I don’t hum to myself anymore, though, just to prevent the situation from ever happening again!)

The Cake Is Bittersweet

, , , , , , , | | Friendly | May 10, 2019

I work at a restaurant that offers those “singing and cake” extras for birthdays. One day, I am approached by two teenage boys who pay for the birthday special for their female friend. I’m thinking, “Aw, that’s cute!”

We make the cake and we go sing “Happy Birthday” to their table… and it quickly becomes obvious that the girl is not into it. She’s death-glaring at the boys so hard I’m surprised they don’t burst into flames. They giggle the entire time. When it’s time to blow out the candle, she puts it out between her index and thumb, then smashes the cake against the face of the boy closest to her.

Turns out, she hated this kind of stuff and they got it anyway, just to mess with her. Good times.

The Engine Of Racism

, , , , , , | | Related | May 9, 2019

(My uncle’s car of twenty years was going through a major rough patch; it required a week-long trip to a mechanic almost monthly. This raised a few alarm bells since a car that left a mechanic shouldn’t need another a month later. Before he brought it back again, I convinced him to let my mechanic — who happens to be one of my oldest friends, us having been best friends since we were four — take a look. Naturally, this involves getting his hands and a few tools inside. After reminding him the two of us know almost nothing about cars, he gives us his professional opinion.)

Friend: “To fix your car, I’d have to replace part or all of the engine. That’s already pretty pricey, but to get at certain parts of the engine, I’d have to pull apart the car’s frame. Since that complicates the job and makes more work, the cost of fixing her would be enough to buy two cars. And that’s before we add on fees for the rental car you’ll need in the months she’ll be on the lift. If you don’t fix it, it’s worth more as parts than as a car. I say you should trade her in for a new car and not spend one more penny on her.”

Uncle: “Do you mind if I talk to my mechanic first? Just to hear him out?”

Friend: “You can, but could I come along? Just to ask a few questions you guys might not know to ask?”

(After a little cajoling from me, my uncle agrees, and the three of us drive up the highway to his dealership, each in our own car due to schedules conflicting. I’m going to take this opportunity to repeat that I know almost nothing about cars, so the technical parts of the conversation sound like a trombone to me. The comprehensible parts are as follows:)

Mechanic: “Nothing too bad. It’ll be ready tomorrow afternoon. Job’s more annoying than it is hard.”

Friend: “What about his [car part]?”

Mechanic: “Used, but not worn out.”

Friend: “And how exactly did you check that?”

Mechanic: “Same way as any other. [Outlines a complicated-sounding procedure].”

Friend: “And what were the results?”

Uncle: “He said he checked it and it’s fine!”

Me: “I think [Friend] wa–“

Uncle: “It’s fine!

(This basic conversation loop a few more times, each time detailing a different part of the car. Eventually, my friend throws up his hands and walks out. Once he is gone, the mechanic continues talking with my uncle, and I completely tune them out. When I rejoin, my uncle has decided to trust his mechanic and leaves his car for another day of repairs, which turns into a week of repairs. But the story doesn’t quite end there. Since he doesn’t yet know he’ll need a rental car, I have to drive him home, which means taking the highway. And he opens his mouth.)

Uncle: “I shouldn’t have listened to you!”

Me: “What was wrong with involving [Friend]?”

Uncle: “All he did was get in the way! He wouldn’t listen one bit to my mechanic!”

Me: “He wanted to analyze the exact results himself, not just hear, ‘It’s fine.'”

Uncle: “Well, [Mechanic] told me that [Friend] poking around might have damaged something, so I might not have a car tomorrow.”

Me: “[Friend] is a more competent mechanic than that. Any problems weren’t his doing. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he saved you some money by tightening up a few things.”

Uncle: *scoffs* “And you’re trusting the [racial slur]!”

(For the record, yes, my friend is black, and we are white. I pull over the car and hit the brakes.)

Me: “Trusting the what?”

Uncle: “The… the…”

Me: “Get out!”

(He tried to backpedal some more, but I wasn’t having it. I grabbed my keys, got out myself, and physically pulled him out of my car. I got back in and drove off, leaving him to walk back along the highway. He made his way back unmolested, but not one bit wiser.)

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