Most of the time any of us text something to the sibling chain, it is with the assumption that Steph will either not read it or not understand it. She’s pretty much only included as a courtesy.
This is why.
Tag Archives: misunderstandings
Cuntonomics
Survival Tactics
Me and a friend (a new friend who doesn’t know me or my family that well), discussing the idea of large families:
Friend: “I can’t BELIEVE your mom had four children. That is so many!”
Me: “I completely agree. I mean, it’s great now that we are all adults. But as young kids? Four is too many. My mom had to live in her car for like 15 years.”
Friend: “Wait, what?! She LIVED in the car? Why? Where did the rest of you live?”
Me (laughing): “No no, I’m sorry. I meant that she had to spend all of her time in the car. Driving us to all our activities and carpooling.”
Friend: “Oh my god. I thought you meant like because of having so many kids, there wasn’t enough room in the house, or enough money or something, so she had to live alone in her car.”
No. But to be honest, she probably would have preferred that arrangement.
Depression Is a Real Illness
Well-meaning friend, after reading about my current struggle with Depression :
“You’re depressed? But you have Eric now!”
Yeah, and you know what’s weird? Eric has me now, yet he STILL struggles with Diabetes!
Depression is a real illness.
And as with any real illness, love and support is undeniably helpful, but it is not a cure.
I think as soon as we stop thinking of Depression as something that can be fixed with a loving relationship, a fun night on the town, or a day in the sunshine, the sooner people will feel comfortable coming forward with their struggle and getting the actual help– the medical help– they need.
Let’s change the conversation.
And if you’re not sure how, start here.
The Relation
Eric’s Super (just now, as I let myself into Eric’s building with my copied key): “You are make the relation with Eric, yes?”
Me: “Yes.”
Super: <Grins widely. Let’s me enter.>
I don’t know what I just said yes to.
Fat
It had been a while since I’d seen my therapist, so I had a lot to catch her up on. I told her about my upcoming family vacation in the Outer Banks, and that I was excited because I had invited Eric to come along. I also told her about my weekend in the North Fork babysitting my nephew, and how funny it was to see him next to slightly older babies who were crawling and walking, as he has yet to do anything but sit and occasionally roll over (one way only). I said it would be interesting to see if he was able to do anything new by the time we go to the Outer Banks mid-August. She smiled politely through all my babbling, and then chimed in….
Therapist: “Well that’ll be really nice to have him at the beach. He should be mobile by then.”
Me: (skeptical) “Eh…I doubt it. He’s pretty fat.”
Therapist: “Oh, um. Oh…I didn’t know…”
Me: “No, you know what I mean. Not in like a bad way. He’s just a total chunkster. I call him my little porkpie.”
Therapist: “Oh…that’s…oh.”
Me: “No, like, endearingly. He’s just a tub-a-lub. I just can’t imagine him walking any time soon. Like how is he supposed to get those lumpy doughboy thighs off the ground?”
Therapist: “Oh…but…is he able to do his physical therapy?”
It was at this point that I realized she was referring to Eric, who recently had ACL surgery. NOT my chubby 8-month-old nephew.
Me: “Oh my god…wait…you think I’m sitting here telling you Eric is a fat chunk who won’t walk any time soon?!”
Therapist: “Oh! You’re talking about the baby!”
Me: “Yes! Eric is not too fat to walk!”
Therapist: “Yeah you never mentioned him being fat…I thought maybe he gained some weight after surgery…”
Me: “I do not call Eric ‘my little porkpie!'”
Therapist (laughing): “Ok, good…”
It was at this point that I realized my therapist, who is responsible for my mental sanity, thinks I’m a terrible, twisted human being.
Eh. I’m ok with that.
Literal Larry
Me: “Make sure the cover of your test booklet says ‘2015 Common Core English Language Arts Test’ followed by ‘Grade 4, Form A.’ Raise your hand if your book does NOT say this.”
Kid (raising hand): “My book doesn’t say ‘followed by.'”
This is going to go well.
Sometimes I Forget That Kids Don’t Know Anything
Kid: “What does bio-diversity mean?”
Me: “Well, do you know what diversity means?”
Kid: “Of course.”
Me: “Ok, so that’s a clue as to what bio-diversity means.”
Kid: “So…like, a a place where living divers live?”
Me: “Ummm. Perhaps I should have asked what you think diversity means…”
Kid: “A city of divers. Divers-city.”
Me: “Ok. Take a seat. Let’s start from square 1.”
Your ONE Job
As a cab driver, your ONE job is to take me to the place I ask to go. You pick me up, I request a location, and then you get me to that place. Literally, that is your ENTIRE job description.
So, sir, the next time you pick me up in the middle of a snowstorm and ask me “Where to?” and I once again answer, “A place where winter doesn’t exist,” don’t just sit there like you’re confused.
Actually DO IT.
He TOTALLY Gets Me
That moment on a first date when you think you’re totally connecting with him…
Him: “I can’t get any work or writing done in my apartment.”
Me: “Same here! Totally. I can’t concentrate at all in my apartment.”
Him: “Exactly. It’s impossible.”
Me (certain we are on the exact same wavelength): “Right? Because I’ll just look up and see something and be like ‘Oh, I need to clean that.’ Or ‘Yikes, I should mail that bill’ Or ‘Why do I have nothing in my fridge?'”
Him: “Oh. I don’t do THAT. I just get distracted by more fun or interesting things to do.”
Me: “Oh.”
Him: “That’s some serious masochistic behavior.”
Me: “Is it?”
Him: “Yeah. You’re really beating yourself up.”
Me: “Alright, it’s not that bad.”
Him: “It sounds like you have an anxiety disorder.”
He hasn’t called.
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