When I was younger, my little brother was very into a first-person shooter video game, and he was really good at it. He and his team enjoyed their games against other players.

One day, he had me come in to sit with him as he played. Then, he got an evil look in his eyes and handed me his microphone headset.

Brother: “Talk as if you were playing.”

Now, while I am older, I am of the same evil genetic stock as my brother, and I pitched my voice to sound even younger.

It. Was. Glorious. My brother cleaned house.

The amount of salt, rage, tears, and frustrated screaming produced by a bunch of sexist teenage boys on the opposite side was wondrous to behold. My brother was decimating his opponents, and they thought they were getting the crap kicked out of them by a little girl. Screamed sexism, new swear words, and creative (anatomically impossible) curses were learned that day.

His team was howling with laughter, and I found out that this evil plan was concocted by the lot of them. Some group had bothered my brother’s team for a long time with trash talk, verbal and in-game harassment, sexist comments calling into question gender identity and sexuality — the whole nine yards.

The plan was initially to turn my brother loose to destroy them with the team as backup. Then, the fact that my brother had a sister came into play, and I became part of the diabolical plan without even needing an explanation.

My brother’s team congratulated my brother and me on destroying the very souls of the opposing team. Apparently, the harassment stopped shortly after I made my diabolical debut.

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 23
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 22
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 21
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 20
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 19

My sister, her kid, my brother, and I all live together. We recently moved to a place where there are lots of tornadoes. The siren goes off one night and my sister goes mad.

Sister: “Oh, my God, run for shelter!”

Our house doesn’t have a basement, so we run into the bathroom. [Sister] grabs her kid and runs into our bathroom.

Me: “Go to your bathroom! There’s not enough room!”

Sister: “I don’t feel safe in there.”

Me: “So, [Brother] and I are just going to get sucked up?!”

Sister: “Obviously! Women and children first!”

She wouldn’t move, so we just ran into a closet. Seven tornadoes hit our town, but luckily, we didn’t get sucked up.

This story is about an ex of mine and her one-day career working for a catalogue shop in the UK, but it starts with her brother. He had taken on a job at the local branch of [Chain] and quickly proved to be an unreliable and flakey worker who was routinely late and, even according to himself, not the most diligent when he was there. To no great surprise, he got canned after a few months.

To my somewhat surprise, my ex applied for a job at the same shop and was successful! However, she was working a one-month notice period, and a few days before she was due for her first shift, she got offered a job she liked better and decided to take it. To my greater surprise, she decided to work that shift. 

Me: “Why do you think that’s a good idea?”

Ex: “Well, I don’t want to let them down with short notice.”

Me: “The first day will usually be Human Resources stuff and training anyway. I don’t think coming in for exactly one day when you’ve already told them you aren’t taking the job is going to be that helpful for anyone. To be honest, I’m shocked they’re giving you the option.”

Ex: “Well, as I said, they must be desperate!”

Me: “Just remember, then, that you’re only there for one day. If anybody gives you any nonsense, then just walk out.”

She did indeed go in for her one shift. I asked her about how it went afterward.

Ex: “Meh, it was mostly fine until the end of it, although I didn’t really get to do anything.”

Me: “What happened at the end?”

Ex: “The shift the manager called me into his office and said, ‘So, you’re leaving us after one day? I knew I should never have given you a chance; you’re even more of a time-waster than your brother.’ I did what you said, though, and just walked out. Can you believe he said that to me?”

I think she was honestly the only person that didn’t see the snark coming.

I’m the author of this unbelievable story from my time living in Virginia, about forty minutes south of Washington DC.

At the time of this story, my mother is engaged to a man who is high-ranking in the Secret Service. (He is now retired.) [Mom’s Fiancé] is on Presidential Protection; He escorts the President personally and is paid to potentially take a bullet for him.

[Mom’s Fiancé]’s job has had some fun perks for my sister and me while we live with them, like getting invited to certain events. White House employees are always invited to the Christmas party and a few other major holiday celebrations.

It’s the second of July, 2010, and Barack Obama is in office. My mom calls and asks if I am interested in going to the White House’s Fourth of July party. She quickly confirms that, no, we won’t be meeting Obama, as he’s in Hawaii visiting family. (We previously got to meet George W. Bush at the aforementioned Christmas party, so this wasn’t a totally insane expectation.)

The invite is so late because [Mom’s Fiancé] was supposed to go to Hawaii with Mr. President but has to stay in DC for reasons he isn’t allowed to talk about. (That happens a lot.) I am bummed we didn’t get a meet-and-greet with the first black president, but I still want to go.

I scramble to get my shifts covered, and I am ultimately able to attend the party. I am aware that there will be a USO show of some kind, but my mom can’t remember who will be performing, and I don’t take the time to look up anything else about it.

The party is on the absolutely massive lawn behind the White House. We settle in a little bit further uphill from the stage, where Cedric The Entertainer is doing stand-up comedy. After his routine, he greets people from behind a waist-high metal fence that leads to a cordoned-off area backstage. He’s extremely friendly and a celebrity I recognize, so it is fun to say hi really quickly.

Another fun fact: I am seven and a half months pregnant with my first child. I am normally fairly slim, so my baby bulge is very noticeable. It’s hot and humid, so I stretch out on our blanket, sip my (nonalcoholic) beverage, and settle in, fully intending to not move for the rest of the party. My little sister is sitting with me and we’re chatting away. Meanwhile, a sound check is going on, so I’m dimly aware that a band will be up next.

We hear applause welcoming the band, but it is not introduced by name. My sister and I are facing away from the stage, deep in conversation, and not really paying attention, when we hear some music blaring out of the speaker. It’s quite distinctive and I immediately recognize it.

My sister and I go silent and lock eyes in mutual shock. Without a single word to each other or the rest of our family, we get up and run toward the stage, me with my third-trimester belly and everything.

We manage to squeeze in pretty close. I would’ve gotten even closer if I wasn’t so pregnant! Still, we are less than ten feet from the stage, shocked and ecstatic that one of our favorite bands is right there and we are watching them! It is an amazing set and we have a blast!

Looking back, I think this was my favorite concert experience because it was a complete surprise. The shock of recognition and our sprint to the stage made it all the more exciting. It’s one of those moments I’ll always remember very vividly.

The band? The Killers. That first song? Human. Best Independence Day ever!

Related:
Creepy, Cut-Off, and Caught!

In 2016, my paternal great-grandfather passed in his sleep. Out of my siblings, only my youngest sister and I went to the viewing where the casket is left open for people to pay respects. My sister was only five at the time and, as it is with many small children, she had no filter whatsoever.

As we were walking toward the casket to pay our respects, my sister saw my great-grandfather’s head from her viewpoint and just had to share this little gem of a comment.

Sister: “Why is there a head in that box?”

She said it extremely loudly. Cue the family that already hates my siblings and me glaring daggers at us.