Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered

You Smelt It But I Didn’t Dealt It

, , , , | Related | November 10, 2021

My family is on a tour in Switzerland. We pass by some horse-drawn carriages.

Mum: “Yuck, [My Name], you need to use more deodorant.”

Me: “Mum, those are horses you’re smelling.”

Endive Dive Dive!

, , , , , , | Right | November 9, 2021

Customer: “Hey, do y’all have that… What’s the lettuce that sounds like a submarine?”

Employee #1: “Like a submarine? Uh… oh! There’s Bibb lettuce right here.”

Customer: “No, no, sorry… It’s not lettuce. It’s a kind of leafy green, but I just can’t get the name. It sounds like a submarine.”

Employee #2: “Right here. Arugula.”

Customer: “That’s what it’s called, thanks!”

Employee #1: *After the customer leaves* “Wow, I would never have gotten that. He said submarine and I was like…” *making a face like a fish and pretending to blow bubbles* “…bibb, bibb, bibb!”

Employee #2: “No, it’s…” *imitating a klaxon* “…ah-ROOOO-gula.”

This Defeat Is Humiliating But Adorable

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 9, 2021

This was in the early 2000s when arcade games were still popular. I was touring in Japan and decided to stop into a large arcade. With this arcade, you had the option of paying money up front and having the credits added to a card as opposed to the old-fashioned method of stacking coins on the machine as you played. With each play, you simply swiped the card over a reader and it would add another credit for you to play.

I came upon the wildly popular Street Fighter game and noticed there were two of the same arcade cabinets positioned back to back, facing away from each other. A Japanese girl who looked to be between six and eight years old was kneeling on a chair and playing away at one of them. I took the game opposite from her, swiped my card, cracked my knuckles, and got ready to throw down.

I got practically MASSACRED to a point where it was nearly humiliating, considering the fact that I was usually untouchable at this game. I wondered out loud:

Me: “Do the Japanese put the difficulty level at nightmare level for their games? God Almighty!”

Ego got the better of me, and I swiped that card for game after game, determined that I wasn’t walking away until I could beat that thing. And game after game, I got absolutely demolished. My sister who was touring with me strolled past.

Sister: “Why do you look so pissed?”

Me: “The AI in this game is insane! Nothing like the version in America! It’s like it’s practically predicting my every move and has a counterattack for it. I can’t touch it!”

Finally, I ended up running out of money on my card, and I slammed my fist on the game cabinet, yelled a string of profanity, and began the loser’s walk of shame to the exit. As I was walking away, the little Japanese girl I mentioned stuck her tongue out at me. A small group of children who had since congregated around her began laughing.

That was when it occurred to me: all this time, I wasn’t playing against the arcade CPU. IT WAS HER! It was the first time in my life I’d ever had the urge to smack a kid!

I went back about two other times, and each time, when I was playing some other game, I would feel someone tap me on the waist and I would turn to see that little girl smiling sweetly at me, waggling her little fingers, and then pulling up a chair and swiping her card over the credit reader, ready to completely decimate me at whatever I was playing. And that she did without fail, while always gesturing for me to swipe my card so she could murder me again. And again. And again…

If You Fall Asleep, You’ll Have A Cow

, , , , | Learning | November 9, 2021

My sixth-grade English teacher was one of my most favorite teachers that I’ve ever had. I’ve always loved reading, so I always looked forward to quiet reading time in class, especially since she let us bring our own books. One of her quirks was that she threw cows at people. That is not a turn of phrase; she had a basket of little plush cows on her desk, and if you were sleeping or goofing off in class, you could expect to be bonked with one. It was hilarious and probably not something she could get away with today.

When I read at my desk, I liked to sit forward with my head tilted down and my chin resting in my hand. My eyes are heavy-lidded, so it can look like they’re closed when my head’s tilted down or forward.

One day, during quiet reading time, I was sitting this way and I noticed [Teacher] looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I ignored it until I saw her frown, shake her head, and reach for a cow. I realized she thought I was asleep a split second before the cow was launched — and her aim was DEADLY.

Without thinking, I took my chin from my hand, caught the bovine projectile one-handed, put it on my desk next to me, and resumed my reading position without lifting my eyes from my book.

Teacher: *Clearly startled* “Oh! I thought… Well then, my apologies. Cow withdrawn!”

I laughed and kept reading. Seriously, I loved Mrs. H so much!

I Take No S***, So Here You’ll Sit

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: MrTooOldToCare | November 8, 2021

My wife and I are “senior citizens”; in other words, we are OLD. My dear wife is a strong, independent, take-no-s***-from-anyone type of woman. I adore her for it! She keeps me in line, pushes me to be a better man, and is the reason behind my (modest) success in life. She is sarcastic, is wicked smart, can cuss like a sailor, and as she gets older, her filter is practically non-existent!

A few months ago, we decided to treat ourselves. We made reservations and went to a rather high-end restaurant. They had a maître de, sommeliers, highly trained waitstaff, etc. My wife, even though she is in her seventies, has very little grey hair and can pass for fifty-five. She was wearing a very pretty white, lacy blouse, very flattering black pants, and black flats. She looked GOOD!

When we arrived, there was no line surprisingly, and the maître de had apparently stepped away from the podium where he stands. We waited there; my wife was right next to the podium, and I had sat down at one of the benches provided by the entrance. Another couple came in. Without missing a beat, the man walked up to the podium and addressed my wife.

Man: “[Man’s Last Name] — we have reservations for two.”

Wife: “I’m sure someone will be with you shortly.”

The woman huffed a little.

Man: “Please seat us now!

Wife: “I don’t work here; I’m waiting to be seated.”

Man: “Seat us now!

Wife: “Right away. Walk this way.”

They followed my wife as she walked around the partition separating the entrance to the dining area, circled around to the other end, and led them back to the entrance. She pointed to the bench.

Wife: “SIT DOWN!”

The man looked like he was going to blow a gasket.

Wife: “I don’t work here, you moron. You wanted me to seat you, so sit the eff down!”

As the couple were sputtering, and before it could escalate future, the maître de arrived, we gave our name, and he led us away.

There was no yelling and no threats of police. We had a wonderful meal. The other couple was several tables away from us. We didn’t interact again with them, but they did shoot us dirty looks now and then.