You Still Wood Not Understand

, , , , , | Related | August 3, 2020

I’m the author of this story, among other submitted shenanigans between my father and me, just to give some context to our relationship. I’ve recently purchased a house; my father and I are in the great room working on remodeling while my roommate is in the back bedroom painting.

Dad and I are passionately discussing various topics and, since we are not in public, the volume controls are off. We’re not yelling at each other, but we are definitely yelling to each other, despite standing side-by-side. I hear my roommate enter and, when he doesn’t move or speak for a few moments, turn to address him.

Me: “Hey, what’s up? Need help?”

Roommate: “No. It sounded like you two were fighting, so I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I can’t tell whether you guys are ever actually angry at each other or not.”

Me: “Nope! No fighting! I appreciate your concern, though.”

Roommate: “Well, that’s good.”

Matter resolved, I turn back to what I was doing, and my dad and I immediately pick back up as if there had been no pause. However, I realize after a minute that my roommate is still standing there, so I turn again.

Me: “Everything okay? We can quiet down a bit if we’re being too distracting?”

Roommate: “Oh, no! Now that I know you’re not arguing, I was just enjoying the entertainment. I’ll get back to it, then!”

Dad: *Laughing* “We’re way cheaper than television!”

Related:
You Wood Not Understand

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Not Open To Being A Good Roommate

, , , , , | Friendly | August 2, 2020

I moved in with a high school friend after college and rented a room. I was soon informed that “renting a room” meant that anything I wanted to have out in the main living areas — living room, kitchen, shared bathroom — basically had to be okayed by her and if not, there would be issues. The rule was not something we both had to follow and it included books, kitchen utensils, etc.

One day, when I got home from work, my friend excitedly informed me that she had locked herself out of the house earlier in the day and had figured out how to boost herself up to the kitchen window and easily pop out the screen and get inside. She somehow didn’t see this as a major red flag.  

After that, I tried to insist that the windows should be closed and locked at night when we went to bed since we weren’t in the best neighborhood. We even had those things on the window that would only allow them to be opened to about two inches and I was cool with that. Nope, she wanted a cross breeze at night, so that particular window had to be open. When I tried to convince her that it was a bad idea, she informed me that it was her house so she overrode me. 

I made sure my bedroom door was always locked after that.

When winter came and the sidewalks had to be shoveled on a near-daily basis she threw a fit and complained that I would never help her with upkeep of the house. I reminded her it was her house and I just rented a room. I moved out shortly after and we no longer speak.

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Not Throwing Away Her Shot (For Some Candy)

, , , , , , | Romantic | July 31, 2020

My mom has been putting off some shots of medication she needs due to the current health crisis because they can affect her immune system, but she finally decides to take them. My dad is helping administer them when he starts joking with her.

Dad: “Are you ready to get these shots like a big girl?”

Mom: “Depends. Do I get any candy afterward?”

Dad: “Yes, you can have one piece of candy.”

Mom: “But it’s two shots!”

Dad: “But it’s one dose.

Mom: “But it’s two shots!

Dad: “But it’s one dose!

This goes back and forth for several minutes, and I’m sitting nearby in the room snickering to myself. Eventually, they agree to disagree and he gives her the first shot.

She handles it, but the second one hits a nerve or something and is very painful. He holds her hand through it and then goes to get her a piece of candy from the bowl on the coffee table.

He gets up to dispose of the needles, and my mom sneaks over to take a second piece of candy. He walks back in as she’s sitting back down. He jokingly glares at her and says:

Dad: “It was one dose!

Mom: “But it was two shots!

My mom then unwrapped both candies and put both in her mouth at the same time. My dad walked out muttering to himself while I absolutely lost it laughing.

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Everyone’s Got Baggage, Not Just Orphans

, , , , | Related | July 31, 2020

I’m at a friend’s house. Her aunt is currently visiting. My friend is a lesbian, and this aunt has been giving my friend a hard time about her homosexuality. While she is not totally homophobic, she just doesn’t understand what it means. I’m a witness to the following exchange.

Aunt: “I still can’t understand why you wouldn’t even try to find a husband. I’m sure if you found the right person—”

Friend: “[Aunt], I’m lesbian; you know that. I’m not attracted to men. Like, at all.”

Aunt: “But you are a woman. It is your God-given duty to marry a man and have children!”

Friend: “At this day and age, that’s just nonsense.”

Aunt: “Don’t you want to start a family and have children?” 

Friend: “At some point, I might.”

Aunt: *Triumphantly* “Well, how can you have children if you don’t have a husband? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about going to a sperm bank. That’s gross and unnatural.”

Friend: “If I decide to have children, I’ll adopt.”

Aunt: “Adopt? Why?”

Friend: “There are enough children out there who don’t have parents. I don’t need to make more. Besides, if I adopt an older child, I don’t need to bother with not being able to sleep at night and having to change diapers all the time.”

Aunt: “But adopted children often have… issues.”

My friend takes a moment to understand what she means and process the statement.

Friend: “[Aunt], I have ADD and PTSD, I was born with diabetes, and I’m allergic to half of the things on the planet! I’d say I have more issues than most orphans, and I’m home-grown.”

Her aunt didn’t say anything after that. But from what I’m told, that wasn’t the first or last time she brought that up.

To clarify, my friend’s PTSD comes from her home burning down when she was little. She never fully got over it and is still very afraid of fire.

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Nightmares Eat Pillows

, , , , | Related | July 30, 2020

My four-year-old daughter turns to me with a question.

Daughter: “Papa, what do butterflies eat?”

Me: “Nectar.”

Daughter: “How about grasshoppers?”

Me: “Plants.”

Daughter: “How about…” *pause* “…nightmares?”

Me: “…”

That escalated quickly.

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