Tipping The Scales In The Afterlife

, , , , , , , | Related | May 7, 2018

(From the time we were kids until she passed, my grandmother insisted on taking my cousins, uncle, and me out to eat the first Sunday of every month at a local diner. She always insisted on paying, and would always tip a single dollar. We are at her funeral dinner, and I turn to my cousin with a confession.)

Me: “I don’t think Nana ever got that a dollar tip was kind of an insult. I started leaving an extra tip hidden under my plate for the waitress.”

Cousin: “Wait, what? I was doing the same thing!”

(Laughing for the first time since Nana passed, we run over to [Cousin #2], who shockingly says that for the past few years he has been lingering behind to drop an extra tip on the table. By this point, we are all doubled over with laughter. Our uncle comes over and we tell him what’s up.)

Uncle: “So, I should tell you something. I’ve been handing a tip off to the waitress before we get seated since you guys were kids, to make up for Nana’s tipping.”

(It turns out everyone except my two youngest cousins, who are still in highschool and don’t have jobs, has been leaving between 10% and 20% tip! We all went from feeling guilty about Nana’s tipping habits to realizing that they must have thought we were the best tipping family, in an over-complicated sort of way.)

Rental Made You Mental

, , , , , , | Working | May 7, 2018

My first job was at a movie rental store that just recently had the very last location close down in the US.

The way our account numbers worked was that there was a series of numbers to denote our location, and the last five digits were the customer. Our store was 291299, and my account was *****, so my entire number was 291299*****. But there were a few combinations that would never get used, so some employees at some point made fake accounts with joke info.

11111 was Homer Simpson with his address in Springfield.

66666 was Lucifer in Hell, and the phone number was, of course, all sixes.

22222 was Bruce Wayne in Gotham, and he had Dick Grayson marked as able to rent on his account.

Time To Get Some Sexperience Points

, , , , , , , | Romantic | May 7, 2018

(At home, my significant other is playing a medieval-style video game. I’ve just gotten out of the shower and am walking back to our bedroom to finish getting dressed when he updates me on what’s happening in his game.)

Significant Other: “Hey, baby, I just f***** the princess!”

Me: *laughing* “That’s awesome, hun. Want to do it again?”

Significant Other: “Nah, I don’t think I can get back to that part of the game again, because it’s story-based.”

Me: “Uh… Babe…”

Significant Other: “What?”

Me: *raises eyebrow, looks down at towel covering me, looks back at oblivious fool*

Significant Other: “Oh. Well, then…” *races me to the bedroom*

Queen Of The Dead

, , , , , , | Romantic | May 6, 2018

(My anatomy and physiology class has started cadaver dissections, and although the professor is on hand to help or answer questions, he tries to let us do as much of it as possible. When a student accidentally nicks his palm with the scalpel, the professor ducks out of the lab to help him disinfect and bandage it, and since I have to change my gloves anyway, I take the opportunity to text my boyfriend.)

Me: “Warning: unsupervised undergrads with scalpels.”

Boyfriend: “It’s important to stab someone first to establish superiority.”

Me: “Nah, [Classmate] managed to stab himself with no help from me, which is why we’re currently unsupervised. My superiority is already established by my ability to properly wield the tools of dissection. I rule as Queen.”

Boyfriend: “Enjoy your reign of the land of corpses, and for any potential mutineers, threaten that they shall share the fate of the unwilling subjects of evisceration!”

Me: “The dissection cadavers donated their bodies to science, though; they’re not unwilling.”

Boyfriend: “Oh. Well, enjoy your stint as the queen of the dead things, then! Stir-fry tonight?”

(This counts as normal for us. He may be The One.)

This Joke Is The Camel’s Nose That Leads To Future Embarrassment

, , , , | Related | May 6, 2018

(I am about four. Usually Mum gets the groceries with my grandparents and me. For whatever reason, my dad decides to join us one day, possibly to distract me, as my brother is only a few months old. Dad has an odd sense of humour.)

Me: *pointing at a kiwi fruit* “Daddy! What’s that?”

Dad: “It’s a camel’s egg.”

Me: “Okay.”

(Nothing more is said. The next time I’m shopping with mum, I run to produce and point out the kiwi fruit.)

Me: “Mummy! Look! It’s a camel’s egg!”

(Everyone stopped and stared, and Mum was so embarrassed that she grabbed me and took off. Dad thought it was hilarious. It’s over 20 years on, and I STILL call them camel’s eggs, much to the displeasure of my partner. Mum can now see why Dad thought it was so funny, though.)

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