Don’t Get Sandwiched Between Her Opinions

, , , , , , | Related | January 4, 2018

(My parents and my paternal grandmother lived together for a couple of years before I was born. One day, my mother comes home, looks in the refrigerator, and asks my grandmother:)

Mother: “What happened to the sandwich I made for [Dad]?”

Grandmother: “Oh, that was a sandwich? I saw two dried-up pieces of bread with something odd between them, and threw it out.”

(Some years later, my grandmother goes on a hunger strike because she doesn’t get her way. My aunt — my father’s sister — is worried about her and keeps begging her to eat. My parents, by now living out of town, come by for a visit.)

Mother: “So, [Grandmother], you’ve lost some weight. You look good!”

(My grandmother started eating shortly thereafter.)

Not Even Christmas Lights Can Penetrate Those Skulls

, , , , , , , , | Related | December 31, 2017

(My father, sisters, and I are visiting our grandparents for New Year’s. We’re all piled into their SUV, as it’s easier to take one vehicle, and getting ready to go out to dinner. My grandmother, sisters, and I are in the back two rows while my dad and grandpa are up front. As we’re pulling out of the drive way, we notice that the lights in Dad’s vehicle are on. It turns out I hadn’t shut the door all the way when I got something out of there earlier.)

Grandma: “Yup, men have good eyes, they do. Not much gets past them.”

Sister: *in the furthest back row* “Yeah, not much gets through to them, either.”

(We’re all trying hard not to laugh too loud, because neither of them noticed, being in the far front and in conversation.)

You Won’t Sleep Well Tonight

, , , , , , , | Related | December 29, 2017

(Previously, my sister and I got into a fight. It was really bad, and she left shortly after to return to her boarding school, so we never reconciled. Now it is Christmas Day. By the way, I am around thirteen.)

Me: *eagerly opening a gift* “Ooh! This one’s from Grandma!”

Me: *begins tearing the wrapping to reveal* “…a singing sleepy-time Minion?”

(The Minion was one of those toys that sings a lullaby and comes with a nightlight to make kids less scared of the dark. Also, I despise Minions. Both of my sisters burst out laughing, especially the sister I fought with. Apparently, my grandma asked that sister what I would like for Christmas. Since she was still mad at me, she answered, “Minion stuff.” My grandma thought that I, a thirteen-year-old, needed a Minion lullaby machine. Needless to say, that wasn’t my favorite gift.)

Been A While Since She Climbed The Family Tree

, , , , , , , , | Related | December 27, 2017

(At my family’s Christmas dinner, my uncle is talking to my cousin. His mom — my grandma — hears them, and asks this gem.)

Grandma: “Oh, you know [Cousin]?”

Uncle: “Yes, Mom. He’s my son.”

Me: *snorts into potatoes from a table away*

(In her defence, she’s 80 years old with eight kids. Not exactly easy to keep track.)

Christmas, A Time For Giving (Your Opinion)

, , , , , , , , , , | Related | December 21, 2017

(It is Christmas Day and I am cooking dinner for the first time, as my aunt has lost her leg and can no longer do it. She is making it very clear how she feels about it, as she has been doing it 30 years. I hear this conversation taking place.)

Aunt: “If I was cooking, we’d be eating by now. She’s taking ages.”

Mum: “Then go and ask her when it’ll be ready.”

Aunt: *annoyed* “Why should I? It should be done by now; she should hurry up. I don’t know why we couldn’t have it at your house, [Mum]; her house is awful. You can’t even go in the kitchen, because the door’s locked.”

Granddad: *annoyed* “Do you want it cooked properly or not?”

(More complaining ensues. We are now having dinner.)

Brother: “These potatoes are amazing. Are they homemade?”

Me: “Yes. I got the recipe online.”

Aunt: *annoyed* “I could have made these without a recipe on the Internet. You kids are so lazy these days. You could have asked me for a recipe. I don’t see why we should have to do this differently from last year. I could have made dinner, and it would have tasted a lot better than this, and—”

Granddad: *angry* “Would you shut up? You couldn’t cook dinner because you can barely walk. You can’t fit all seven of us into [Mum]’s small bungalow, and there is nothing wrong with [My Name]’s house. This dinner is delicious, and if you don’t like it, don’t f****** eat it.”

(My aunt shut up, finished her dinner, and went into the living room where she sulked for the remainder of the time she was here. It has been three weeks and she is still avoiding me.)

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