Category Archives: Conversing

Conversing: Communists at the Dinner Table

May 25, 2009

Ah, Memorial Day with the family:

(Kyle, sixteen, and Jacob, thirteen, are my cousins)

Jacob: You guys want to hear a funny quote from [some computer game]?

Everyone: Sure!

Jacob: [Imitating a character from the game] “When I gave him some food, he called me a saint. When I asked him why he didn’t have food of his own, he called me a communist!” [Giggling] Get it?

[Long pause, as we try to make sense of this]

Kyle: Huh. I don’t get it.

[The rest of us concur with Kyle]

Jacob: [Dejectedly] Yeah, I didn’t get it either.

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Conversing: Surname Silliness

May 17, 2009

(From a Twitter conversation with the ever-delightful @wendiegoneferal)

Her: I knew the avacado was a fruit, but I didn’t know it was also a berry!

Me: You know, if I were gay, I’d be a fruit and a Barry, too!

One of these days I’ll have to tell you guys the story of when I lived with the bears…

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Conversing: Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off

May 6, 2009

Me: We should get married.

Him: Bad idea.

Me: Why? You LOVE me!

Him: True, but you’d only be marrying me for my money.

Me: So? You could have affairs on the side, I don’t care. God knows, I’ll have affairs! How am I supposed to have affairs if I don’t have a husband? Otherwise, that’s just dating. Boring.

Him: Right, but it would be just my luck that your boyfriend would turn out to be some psychopath who would hunt me down and kill me.

Me: I would NEVER date a psycho… wait… uh, never mind. Point taken.

My ex the Rapist: doucheface, criminal, and now home-wrecker. Damn him.

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Conversing: A Conversation With My Father

March 20, 2009

Him: Have you spoken with [a certain horrible ex of mine] recently?

Me: No, Father, [Doucheface McDouchleton] is a horrible, Satan-spawn, scum of a human being.

(This last bit was actually spoken with significant pauses where I searched for words that WERE NOT obscenities and thus my utterance sounded something more like: “No, Father, (fuckface? Fucktard? Vile motherfucker? Assface?) [his actual name] is a (motherfucking piece of slimy shit?), uh, horrible…” etc.)

Him: Oh, no, he can’t be all bad, he’s just A FUGITIVE FROM THE LAW (emphasis mine, to show just how absurd my father’s actual comment was).

Me: He’s a rapist.

Him: Oh.

(Here I let him ponder the significance of this statement, before launching into a graphic description of how Doucheface McDouchleton should be, uh, disposed of. So much for keeping things PG around my father.)

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Dear God, What Were You Thinking?

March 17, 2009

ACT I, SCENE I

HEAVEN

Scene opens with GOD, chin resting on hands, pondering the latest conundrum presented to Him.

GOD: Hmm, so I have an order for a baby from a conservative Christian family who desire to populate the world with more conservative Christians… boy or girl, boy or girl…

HOLY GHOST enters, singing.

HOLY GHOST: I got the Power!

GOD looks annoyed, but continues pontificating to Himself.

GOD: Well, they already have two boys, so it seems that a girl would be in order.

HOLY GHOST: Amen, brotha. Praise be!

GOD casts the HOLY GHOST an annoyed look

GOD: Will you knock it off, already? Go sing somewhere else.

HOLY GHOST: Dude, chill out. Man, Heaven sucks. Can’t wait ’til Sunday when I can go hang out with the Pentecostals. They’re totally hoppin’, dude.

GOD [mumbles]: Glad someone’s willing to put up with you… Anyway, back to the problem at hand: a little girl it shall be, but what sort of personality? I suppose I could go with my usual sugar and spice… I mean, why ruin a good thing?

JESUS CHRIST enters carrying a brown paper bag that is twitching violently of its own accord

JESUS CHRIST: Hey, Dad, what do you want me to do with all this Crazy? It’s leftover from Mother Theresa. She wasn’t using it, so she sent it back. It’s still in top shape though!

GOD [smiling]: I know just where it can go.

[End Scene]

And that, m’dears, is how Megan came into being, much to the chagrin of my peace-and-quiet-loving, Bible-wielding, conservative Christian family. Blame Mother Theresa.

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