May's Theme Of The Month: Movie Mayhem!

The Fruit Of My Loins

| The Netherlands | Parents & Guardians, Siblings

(The grandma of my half sister is in the hospital, dying. We are preparing to visit her for the last time. My half sister is 11 and just had sex education at school.)

Mom: “Everyone ready to go?”

Half Sister: “Mom, did you know a uterus is the size of a large strawberry at my age?”

Mom: “…”

Makes You Want To Flea

| Dudley, England, UK | Parents & Guardians, Pets & Animals

(This story takes place when I am about 5 and have gone with my parents to take our dog to the vet.)

Me: *whispering* “I think that dog has fleas.”

(At this point, I look over at a German Shepherd and point to the bald patch on its neck. I had read online that square bald patches on a dog meant fleas.)

Mom: “That’s a bit rude.”

Me: “Okay.” *walks over to owner and talks loudly* “Does your dog have fleas?”

(Needless to say, Mom and Dad never took me to the vet’s with them again.)

Don’t Have Beef If You Like Beef

| Germany | Boyfriends & Girlfriends, Parents & Guardians, Siblings

(My mother’s boyfriend has a really unnerving habit of jumping on bandwagons despite not actually having anything to do with the trend in question, something that has begun to annoy my sister. His latest hobby is bashing fast food.)

Mom’s Boyfriend: “Well, if people want to eat fast food, I don’t care. They can eat that garbage, but I will not! It’s just gross what they put inside of it! It’s unhealthy!” *continues to rave*

Sister: “…Says the guy who smokes his own weight in tobacco every day, thinks that eating anything else than steak is ‘unmanly,’ and spends his days lying on our couch.”

(He shut up for good after that.)

Stalling The Falling

| USA | Parents & Guardians

(I’m very clumsy, and after falling and twisting my ankle painfully, I decide to look at the ground while walking to avoid tripping.)

Mom: “Stop slouching!”

Me: “I’m trying not to trip and fall on stuff on the street!”

Mom: “You look like an old lady with a hump.”

Me: “I’d rather look like that than twist my ankle again!”

Mom: “Pick up your head!”

Me: “Are you gonna pay for my medical bills when I fall?”

(She became silent but gave me looks of disapproval.)

Of My Relations And Infestations

| Monument, CO, USA | Boyfriends & Girlfriends, Parents & Guardians

(I make metal jewelry as a hobby, which requires flammable gasses in controlled amounts. One day, I come upstairs to hear my twin sister’s boyfriend asking Mom about flamethrowers.)

Me: *wondering if I heard correctly* “What’s this about flamethrowers?”

Mom: “[Boyfriend] found a wasps’ nest in the barn, and he wanted to know if we had anything like that.”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, I was thinking that I could—”

Me: *speaking rapidly because I park my car in the barn* “I have an acetylene tank!”

(His eyes widen, and he grins appreciatively in an ‘I get to play with fire!’ expression.)

Boyfriend: “Ooo-hoo-hoo.”

(The wasps were doomed, and there hasn’t been another infestation since.)

Coloring In His Ignorance Gaps

| IA, USA | Parents & Guardians

(My dad tends to say casually racist and sexist things because he was raised on a farm in Idaho in the 1960s. I have taken to pointing this out by asking him what he means when he says something offensive and usually he realizes he is wrong. This happens after he, my mother, and I have voted in the midterm elections and are walking to the car.)

Dad: “So, who’d you vote for?”

Me: “Well, the obvious ones for major seats but I didn’t know any of the judges so I just voted for the women and one guy because his name was Casey Jones.”

Dad & Me: *start singing Casey Jones by the Grateful Dead*

Dad: “You know the funny thing is, he’s a colored man.”

Mom: *starts walking really fast, anticipating what’s coming*

Me: “Really? How is that funny?”

Dad: “Well, you know, because that isn’t a name that really sounds black.”

Me: “Really? What’s a ‘black’ name sound like?”

Dad: “Well… ya know, most Jones’s are white guys.”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Dad: “From his name you wouldn’t know he was colored.”

Me: “I don’t understand why his skin color matters. Please explain.”

(My dad just stands there looking confused.)

Mom: “[Dad], drop it. Please? And don’t try to figure out anyone’s skin color by their name.”

Dad: “I just don’t understand.”

(The next day he apologized to me because my mother explained to him that what he said was racist and he had ‘no idea that could be offensive.’)

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