Tag Archives: conversations

Overheard: At Home

Background: My mother buys cookies and other snacks for my brother which he is instructed to keep in his room locked in a safe so she can’t get to them. No, I’m not kidding. She went grocery shopping today and brought home Chips Ahoy! for my brother.

Mom: You already locked up the cookies, you ass wipe!

Brother: Yes, I did.

Mom: I wanted one! You’re such a jerk!

Brother: They’re my cookies.

Mom: Go get me a cookie!

Brother: You look like a cookie! You can’t have any.

Mom: Ass wipe.

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Conversations with The Family

Butterfly Sweaters

Scene: Friday night dinner at my grandparent’s

Players: Mom, Grammy, Grampy, Aunt, Uncle, Myself, Boyfriend

Background: My family all talks at once, usually we’re pretty good at keeping up with multiple conversations, but not always.

. . . .

Grammy: “I was watching the news the other day, and they were saying how it got so cold in Florida that one of the zoos had to take all the butterflies in the butterfly exhibit and move them inside to a warm place. The butterflies would have frozen!”

Me: “Wow, someone went out there and plucked each individual butterfly?”

Mom: “What if they missed one?”

Group in General: “Yeah, what if they missed one?” “Who wants to see butterflies at a zoo?” “Can butterflies freeze? And get frozen solid?” etc., etc.

Grammy: continuing “…and then they showed a chimpanzee putting on a sweater! He was putting on the sweater all by himself, just pulled the sweater right on!”

[silent pause]

Aunt: “A butterfly put on a sweater?!”

Boyfriend: “What does a butterfly sweater look like?!”

Myself, Uncle, Mother (who heard Grammy move on to the chimpanzee story): hysterical laughter, choking on beverages, etc.

Grammy: ‘No! The monkey! The monkey! Of course a butterfly didn’t put on a sweater!”

Aunt: “I was gonna say! Those delicate wings!”

Boyfriend: “No, really, what would a butterfly sweater even look like?”

Aunt: “It would need wing holes! Wing sleeves!”

Me: “Oh my God, why is this my life? Butterfly sweaters?! Seriously people.”

Grammy: “No one ever listens to me.”

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Conversations with Mom II

Scene: Tonight, in the car, talking about what a horrid wretch my brother is. Grammy and Grampy are her parents, my grandparents.

Mom: When I was younger, I would never flip out the way he does! I would never have dreamed of using that type of language with Grammy and Grampy! Except for that one time.

Me: [laughing] Oh except for that one time? What was it about, do you remember?

Mom: Well, I was on the phone in my room with one of my girlfriends, and Grampy comes out of the bathroom like a raving loon. He wanted to know why there were so many tissues in the trash.

Me: Tissues in the trash?!

Mom: Yes, like I said, he was being a raving loon. Anyway, I was very emotional back then, so I immediately took the phone, while still talking to my girlfriend, and whipped it at his head. So he came at me, and I got up swinging and swearing and calling him every name in the book and some that I made up. Then he kicked me out. Well, fine then. Grammy was over her friend Beverly’s, so I walked myself on over to Beverly’s and told her that Grampy kicked me out. She must have had a few drinks, because she just started laughing hysterically. Then I told her what happened and she marched me right back home. And I didn’t talk to Grampy for months.

Me: Over tissues.

Mom: Yes. Then I felt really bad that we weren’t speaking, so Grammy made Grampy feel bad and said to him “What if something happened to her and you weren’t speaking!” So one night he came up to me and said “Do you have the time?” and things went back to normal after that.

Fast forward to later tonight, while we were taking out the trash.

Me: Why do we have so much trash?! Look at everyone else on the street, and look at us. Why are we like this?

Mom: I don’t know! That’s what Grampy was always yelling about, the trash! That’s why the tissues sent him over the edge.

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Conversations With Mom

The Scene: This weekend, while watching Say Yes to the Dress: Beverly Hills. One of the brides was “the only Indian signed with Vivid” (she was in adult entertainment).

Me:  “She doesn’t even look Indian.”

Mom: “She must mean she’s from India.”

Me: “…Yeah, that’s what Indians are, people from India.”

Mom: shakes her head at me like I’m an idiot – “And the other Indians. The ones who live here.”

Me: “Mom, the only INDIANS that live here are people from India, you’re thinking of Native Americans.”

Mom: “Well they USED to be Indians.”

Me: “They were never Indians, that was incorrect. They’ve always been Native Americans and Indians are people from India.”

Mom: “Stop trying to be all high and mighty and politically correct! They were Indians! Like cowboys and Indians?! a-woo-woo-woo-woo! You know!” (she started making “Indian” noises here, like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan.)

Me: “Okay, just stop. Stop it. You’re wrong and I’m right end of story.”

Fast-forward to yesterday in the car with my mom. She was describing the Sunday Drives they would go on when she was a kid.

Mom: “We would drive all the way up the highway and then turn around, and there used to be this place called the Deerskin Trading Post, and that was always a popular stop for us. They had a lot of Western stuff, moccasins, jewelry. I suppose YOU would call it ‘Native American’.”

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