Just Keep It Away From The Bifrost

, , , , , | Romantic | June 9, 2018

(My girlfriend and I have not been intimate yet, but we can get a little frisky over the phone. At one point, I mention the necessity for her to come up with a name for my member.)

Me: “By the way, you should, like, probably think up a name to refer to… him.”

Girlfriend: *laughing* “Thor’s hammer!” *more laughter*

Me: “But his hammer was destroyed! By Hela’s grip nonetheless… his sister! Wow, I never put that together until just now. That’s kind of disturbing.”

Girlfriend: “But it’s an amazing name.”

Me: “You’re right. But are you worthy?”

Girlfriend: *arrogantly* “Well, I was able to lift it, so…”

Me: “Touché.”

Donuts Aren’t A Reason, They’re THE Reason

, , , , , , | Related | June 9, 2018

(Growing up, my dad religiously attended an antique show that set up one weekend a month, every month. As a teenager, though I wasn’t the antique-er he was, I had become obsessed with the mini donuts that were sold in one of the booths. They were made on an old machine that punched the dough, dropped the rings into a river of oil, and floated them down two at a time, to be gracefully flipped over by a comb so that the other side could cook. After the flip, another comb would scoop them up and flip them off the machine into the tray below. It was hypnotizing to watch, and after being sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, they were absolutely delicious. Unfortunately, when I moved out of my parents’ house, I was unable to go with my dad anymore. However, my mother started getting into the habit of going with him. One weekend, I’m visiting, and I’m telling her about a local festival that I recently attended.)

Me: “We were walking around the concession area, and they had a [Same Brand as the antique show’s] donut maker! I was so excited! We managed to get some right before they closed for the day. [My Boyfriend] finally got to see what I’ve been telling him about!”

Mom: “Cool! Dad and I went to [Antique Show] last weekend, and I got some.” *makes a face* “He ate most of them, though; I had to get more. Hey, when was the last time you went to [Antique Show]?”

Me: “It’s probably been about two or three years.” *quietly, kind of embarrassed* “You know, those donuts were probably about 50% of the reason I went with Dad. Not that I don’t like spending time with him, but…” *shrug*

Mom: *scoffs* “They’re pretty much the only reason I go with him. Antiques are boring. I’m not afraid to say it.”

Can’t Get A Pan Handle On The Situation

, , , , , , , | Working | June 8, 2018

(Our store allows for product exchanges on the condition that the item hasn’t been used and is still in good condition. We sell a lot of pots and pans, and the best way to tell if they’ve been used is by smelling them for the scent of any food. A lady comes up to the register with an expensive frying pan that has been removed from the packaging. This brand is exclusive to our store and is known to have quite bulky packaging.)

Customer #1: “I just want to exchange this for a different size, if that’s okay.”

Me: “Yup, that shouldn’t be a problem! Just making sure, has it been used?”

Customer #1: “No, I just took it out of the packaging to see if it would fit in my cupboard.”

(I let her go to find a smaller pan, and examine the one she left. It seems to be in perfect condition, but I give it a sniff and swear I can smell just a hint of spices, indicating that it may have been used. One of my coworkers is working the register with me.)

Me: “Hey, [Coworker #1]! Can you take a look at this pan? I think it’s got a smell on it.”

([Coworker #1] comes and stands on my left and takes a whiff.)

Coworker #1: “Um… I’m not too sure. It seems to be fine, though.”

Me: “I don’t know.” *takes the pan back and smells it again* “I swear I can smell chili, or pepper, or something.”

(A second coworker comes to my right side.)

Coworker #2: “What’s going on?”

Coworker #1: “[My Name] thinks this pan’s been used; what do you think?”

([Coworker #2] gives it a good sniff, putting her face up close to it, then shakes her head.)

Coworker #2: “Nah, it’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Me: *takes another sniff* “Are you sure?”

Coworker #1: *takes a sniff up close* “Yeah, I think she’s right.”

Me: *takes it back and sniffs again* “Okay, maybe I’m just imagining it, then.”

Coworker #2: *double-checking, smells the pan again* “Yeah, it’s fine, hasn’t been used.”

Customer #2: “Um… Excuse me?”

(All three of us look up and see a man waiting to be served, standing there with an odd expression on his face. It’s at that moment we realise he has been watching the three of us standing at the counter in a huddle, passing around a pan and taking turns to sniff it all while talking in hushed voices. Immediately, [Coworker #1] and [Coworker #2] scatter off in opposite directions and I quickly place the pan to the side and plaster on a big smile.)

Me: “Next waiting!”

Nothing Says Christmas Like Tropical Fruit

, , , , , , , | Related | June 7, 2018

With my mother, it’s a tradition that there is an orange at the bottom of our Christmas stockings to let us know we’ve reached the end. I’m just starting to get old enough to suspect Santa isn’t real. Thinking how clever I am, I tell my mother that I want a pineapple instead of an orange. When I come down the stairs on Christmas, it’s obvious that there’s not a pineapple in my stocking.

Feeling smug, I pull out all the little gifts inside, but when I get to where the orange should have been, I feel something cold and metallic. Confused, I pull the item out, and find myself holding a can of pineapple chunks.

I outgrew Santa not long after that, anyway, but it’s still one of my favorite Christmas stories.

Well, He Did Say “Just One”

, , , , | Related | June 7, 2018

(I have an uncle on my father’s side of the family who is fairly self-important, demanding, and bashful. I tend to just ignore it, but my mother has some trouble dealing with him and can get annoyed by his persona. We are sitting in the living room, the phone rings, and my mother picks up.)

Mom: “Hi, this is [Mother].”

Uncle: “Hi, [Mother]. Listen, I have just one question.”

Mom: “Okay, what is it?”

Uncle: “Is [Dad] there?”

Mom: “Yep.”

(And with that, my mother hangs up on him. We later heard that he was furious about it, but his wife, my aunt, was rolling on the floor laughing about it!)

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