His Gift-Giving Skills Are Getting Sharper

, , , , , , , | Related | January 1, 2018

(My dad is a bit of an odd duck. When going through the Christmas present my parents have sent for my boyfriend and me, I pull two small rectangular boxes out of a package, each with one of our names on them.)

Me: “Oh, I almost missed these; they’re so small. Wow, they’re pretty heavy, too… Wait…”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “They’re small, heavy, there’s one for each us, and they’re from my dad.”

Boyfriend: “Knives?”

Me: “Knives.”

(They were, indeed, two very nice pocket knives. I still know my dad’s tastes.)

What A Ship Dit

, , , , , | Friendly | December 25, 2017

(Recently, a number of things have thrown me into ill health. Caring for a dog for a few days exacerbates my allergy problems. I chat routinely with a really nice guy from Tehran. I tell him of a planned doctor visit for my problems.)

Friend: “You are having a fitting cough?”

(I think, “No, dip s***, it’s not ‘fitting’ for anyone. I would only wish this on my worst enemies.” At that moment, I try to cough up a lung. I am in enough agony that I think about saying something I might regret to a nice friend. Then it dawns on me:)

Me: “You mean a coughing fit?”

Friend: “Yes, that’s it.”

(Isn’t language fun?)

Making A Blanket Statement About The Rest Of Your Lives

, , , , , , , | Romantic | December 18, 2017

(My boyfriend is a born and raised Hawaiian. Being part of the military, his posts have put him in deserts. As you can imagine, therefore, it doesn’t take much to get him cold. He hasn’t been in Oklahoma for very long, either, so winter nights are always fun. I, on the other hand, get hot way too easily. To keep the bill low, he has elected to keep the AC and heater off and rely on blankets and fans. One night, I wake up shivering, which rarely happens. That’s when I notice all the blankets are bundled at his feet. I’m still groggy, so I pull at the blankets to no avail.)

Me: “Babe. Babe, share.”

Boyfriend: *mumbles something*

Me: “I can’t understand you, and I’m cold. Share the blankets.”

Boyfriend: “They’re for my toes.”

Me: *rolls eyes* “So, we’ll tuck them in again.”

Boyfriend: *turns and looks me in the eye, then speaks in a very stern voice* “This is just the way it has to be now.”

(He then turned back around and went back to snoring. I finally managed to wrangle the blankets from him, doing my best to not laugh too loudly. He doesn’t remember ever saying that, and I don’t intend to let him live it down any time soon.)

Ringside “Seat” To The Uprising

, , , , , | Learning | December 15, 2017

(The first day of kindergarten, we get to choose anywhere we want to sit. Unknown to us, these seats are put on the seating chart. The next time, I want to sit somewhere different.)

Teacher: “Welcome, class. Now, let’s take role with your seating chart.”

(At this point, many of us become scared and confused because we aren’t sitting in our original seats.)

Teacher: “Now that everyone is settled and in their seats from last week, I’ll go down the rows and double-check.”

(She gets out a stamp and starts with the first few kids; they are all sitting in their original seats and get “good job” stamps on their hands. All the kids sigh, realizing we probably won’t be punished. Then she gets to the next kid.)

Teacher: “There is always one kid…”

Kid #1: “One kid who does what?”

Teacher: “One kid like you who sits wherever they want.”

(Then the teacher takes out a stamp and stamps the kid’s forehead. It reads, “Fail.” All of our eyes go wide.)

Kid #2: “My mom will kill me if I have a mark on my forehead!”

Me: “THIS IS PROBABLY AGAINST THE CONSTITUTION!”

All The Kids: “YEAH!”

(All the kids who sat in the right places stay quiet while the rest of us chant. At that moment, the teacher stamps my forehead three times with the “fail” stamp. I am very sensitive and begin to cry.)

Me: “But… but… I was just… just… telling the truth!”

Teacher: “Now, listen: there will be no uprisings in my class this year!”

Photo-Perfect Finish

, , , , , | Romantic | December 13, 2017

(My boyfriend has recently won a fairly prestigious contest for a short story he wrote. As a result, the organization running the contest needs a picture of him for publicity purposes. In spite of being a very lovely person, my boyfriend has what can only be described as “resting b**** face” and doesn’t smile much, to the point that he often has to reassure people who have just met him that he doesn’t dislike them, but that’s just the set of his face. He also absolutely hates pictures of himself.)

Me: “Umm… Okay, just stand by the those trees, I guess.”

Boyfriend: “Okay.”

Me: *snapping a few photos that honestly aren’t terribly good* “Erm… Here, let me try this.”

(I hold my camera way above my head, as my boyfriend is more than a foot taller than I am. This is an improvement, but the photos are still “meh” at best.)

Me: “You know, you could try to smile.”

Boyfriend: “No.” *tries to look even more serious*

Me: “Yeah, yeah, because you’ve got to look like a harda**, even when you’re accepting an award!”

(He starts to laugh, and I manage to snap a photo of it.)

Me: “HA! I did it! I got a picture of you smiling!”

Boyfriend: “D*** it.”

(That was the picture he sent off, and one of the better ones I’ve managed to take of him!)

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