Adventures Of The Lesbian Thespian

, , , , , , | Romantic | May 31, 2018

(It is the 1980s. I’m male with long hair but can’t be considered feminine by any stretch of the imagination. I try out for a part in the school play. I’m hanging out with friends afterwards, discussing various actors and actresses whose methods we like.)

Me: “You know, my parents would be so upset if they knew I wanted to be a thespian.”

(At that point, a young woman nearby jumps up from her table and storms over to where I’m at.)

Woman: “You don’t have to pitch your voice so low if you want to be a lesbian!”

(I blink and look over to where she’s hovering an inch away from me.)

Me: “Lesbian? Well, I do like women, so… but no, we’re talking about thespians. You know, actors and actresses.”

Woman: “It’s okay to be a lesbian. I’m one. Why are you trying to look all manly?”

Me: “Uh, because I am a man.”

Woman: *now screeching* “No, you’re not! Why are you trying to act all butch? Is it because of your friends?”

(She then started screaming at them for trying to get me to act male. I didn’t know what else to do, so I stood up and grabbed my crotch and yelled, “To thine own self be true!” It was then that she realize that I was indeed a man, turned bright red, and stormed off. Every since that day, I’ve been called the lesbian thespian by my friends.)

She’s Just Jelly Because She Has Jelly

, , , , , , | Working | May 29, 2018

(I work at a small science museum, and in addition to part-time staff we have volunteers. Most of our volunteers are elders and come with their fair share of quirks. One volunteer is a nuisance to eat lunch with, because she always criticizes what other people are eating. I usually bring reasonably healthy frozen store-bought meals. I cook my own breakfast, and dinner is always freshly prepared. Lunch is my only frozen meal. I always dread if I am scheduled to have a break at the same time as her, as conversations like the following will occur.)

Volunteer: “What are you eating?”

Me: “Chicken fajita rice bowl.”

Volunteer: “What’s in that?”

Me: “Chicken, beans, rice, and seasoning.”

Volunteer: “You could have made that at home, honey.”

Me: “I don’t have time.”

Volunteer: “Find time and freeze it. I freeze everything. What else do you have?”

Me: *hungry and wanting to eat and not talk* “No-junk protein bar.”

Volunteer: “Ugh. Sounds disgusting. What’s in it?”

Me: “Organic coconut, pea protein, almonds, tapioca powder…”

Volunteer: “And a million things you can’t pronounce?”

Me: “No, it’s all raw, organic ingredients.”

Volunteer: “Probably tastes awful.”

Me: “No, they’re really good.”

Volunteer: “Sure they are.”

Me: “…”

Volunteer: “You know, you kids really need to eat more healthily. I always worry about what you eat.”

(The volunteer then started eating her gelatin dessert, and I simultaneously pondered whether she was joking or if I should eat a lump of cold poison for lunch.)

Dad Is Being A Real Ganondorf

, , , , , | Right | May 29, 2018

(I decide that I will take in my XBox 360 and my PS3 Slim for trade-in towards a new PS4 or XBox One. I haven’t decided on which to get but I figure I’ll get store credit and decide later. When I take in my games and the two systems, the people behind the counter look at me a little sadly.)

Employee: “Do you have anything older, like NES, SNES, Sega, and so forth?”

Me: “Actually, yeah, I do.”

(I go home and come back with a box of NES cartridges — about 90 — instead, and the two guys are excited as they dig in and start to go through all of them. A young boy, about nine years old comes in.)

Boy: “Do you have the Gold NES Zelda?”

(This peaks my interest, because here is a kid not old enough to be ten, asking for a NES game.)

Employee: “Sorry, we don’t have any of those, just the Adventures of Link Gold Edition.”

(I go over and point to one of the stacks.)

Me: “No, you guys got a Gold NES Zelda right there.”

Employee: “Oh, I stand corrected. Here, is this what you were looking for?” *shows it to the boy*

Boy: *excited* “Yep!”

(The father comes over:)

Father: “How much?”

(The employee behind the counter looks to me.)

Me: “Well, I haven’t traded it in yet, and it’s rare that a kid this age would want an NES, so he can have it.”

(The father looks at me his eyes going narrow and his face curling in disgust like he’s looking at rotted meat.)

Father: “No, f*** you! We don’t take no freebies!”

(He storms in and stares at the employee behind the counter.)

Father: “How much will it be after he trades it in?”

Employee: “Well, they go for thirty-five, but I’ll do thirty. Or, you can do it for free right now from this gentleman.”

Father: “No! I told you we don’t do no f****** freebies!”

(He takes a hold of his kid’s arm — who is in near tears at this point, staring at the game he wants — and starts dragging the boy out.)

Father: “We’ll be back to buy it later after it’s traded in!”

(I try and stuff the game into the boy’s hoodie as he is being dragged by, but the father sees and gets up on me with his fist under my nose.)

Father: “NO! F*** YOU! WE DON’T DO FREEBIES!”

(With this, he pushed his kid out in front of him, and he stormed out.)

Butt-Hurt About The Butt-Cream

, , , , | | Healthy | May 26, 2018

(I work in a pharmacy in a large box store. On Sundays, when only one pharmacist is on duty, the pharmacy shuts down for them to take a lunch break. This story is related to me by one of the pharmacists. The gate is down, but can sort of be seen through, and the pharmacist can be glimpsed through the holes.)

Lady: *at the top of her voice* “HEY! HEY, YOU! ARE YOU OPEN?!”

Pharmacist: “Uh, no, ma’am, we reopen in ten minutes. Please come back then.”

Lady: “IT’LL ONLY TAKE A MINUTE! I NEED SOME BUTT CREAM!”

Pharmacist: “Ma’am, we’re closed! Please come back in ten minutes.”

Lady: “BUTT! CREAM! JUST GIVE ME SOME G**D*** BUTT CREAM!”

Pharmacist: “Ma’am, we’re closed! We’ll reopen in ten minutes!”

Lady: “THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I JUST NEED SOME BUTT CREAM!”

(She finally stormed off… two minutes before we reopened for business.)

About To Be Some Banana Drama

, , , , , | | Right | May 25, 2018

(Our produce department has recently started selling dragonfruit, a rare sight around here. Needless to say, they get a lot of confused looks. I’m stocking nearby when a customer calls me over to ask about them. I tell them all I can about how to eat them, what they look like inside, how they taste, etc.)

Customer: “Where do they come from?”

Me: “South and Central America and Southeast Asia, mostly, I think. These…” *reading label* “…are from Vietnam, actually.”

Customer: *tosses the fruit back in disgust* “Are you f****** kidding me? Hell no!”

Me: “Um… Okay.”

Customer: “And another thing, you got any tomatoes that did not come from Mexico? All yours say they came from Mexico. I want American tomatoes.”

Me: “I think we have some from Canada right now.”

Customer: *with disgust* “I said American. You just wait until Donald Trump fixes this; y’all ain’t gonna have none of this foreign s***!”

Me: “I take it you don’t like bananas, either?”

Customer: “Yeah, I do. Why?”

Me: “Nothing. You have a nice day.”

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