I was eating lunch in the kitchen when Amy walked into the kitchen, grabbed an orange, and sat down at the table. After peeling it, she takes a slice and puts it in her mouth. About 30 seconds later, I hear a splat. I look up from my plate and ask, "what was that?"
Amy: What was what?
Me: I thought I heard something hit the floor. Something did! Look! Echo (the dog) is eating something! Are you feeding her? Don't do that!
Amy: I'm not!
I go back to eating and a minute later I see Amy whip her head sideways and make a grotesque spitting sound; a chewed up piece of orange flies from her mouth and lands with a splat on the kitchen floor.
Me: Did you just spit out a piece of orange?!
Amy: No....BWAAHAHAHAHAHA YEAHH!!
Me: Why? Don't do that! Just eat it normally!
Amy: That is how I eat it normally!
Me: You chew it up and spit it out for Echo to eat?
Amy: Yeah.
Me: Why?!
Amy: 'Cause I only like the juicy part. I chew it up until there's no more juice flavour left, then I spit it out. Echo likes to eat the gross part.
Me: Echo likes to eat anything, but that doesn't matter! You're wasting so much of the orange!
Amy: I'm only wasting the gross part.
Me:Wait...have you always eaten oranges like this? For your whole life?
Amy: Yeah, it's how I normally eat them. Except when I'm at other peoples' houses, or when people are looking at me. Then I have to chew it extra much and just force it down because otherwise they'll see.
Me: So you know it's weird, then, right? Chewing up oranges, then spitting them onto the floor and having the dog eat your chewed up food?
Amy: Only for other people.
Friday, December 31, 2010
What's weirder: Marrying a dog? Or singing about it?
I was eating at the kitchen table. The family dog, Echo, was hovering around, hoping that some food might come her way, accidentally or intentionally. Amy walks into the kitchen and immediately goes to Echo and starts singing and half-dancing, pointing at the dog.
Amy (singing): Echooooo! Won't you be my bride! Let's get married! Oh, EchoooOOOooo, be my briiiiiiiide!
Me: *staring in confusion*
Amy (looks at me): What? I'm just pretending to be in a musical!
She continues singing about eloping with our dog. Pretending to be in a musical is one thing, but making that musical about marrying a dog is beyond ridiculous.
Amy (singing): Echooooo! Won't you be my bride! Let's get married! Oh, EchoooOOOooo, be my briiiiiiiide!
Me: *staring in confusion*
Amy (looks at me): What? I'm just pretending to be in a musical!
She continues singing about eloping with our dog. Pretending to be in a musical is one thing, but making that musical about marrying a dog is beyond ridiculous.
Train of Thought
Amy was rambling on and on and something or another when she got distracted (not an uncommon thing).
Amy: And then.....uhhh....Then I.....um. I just lost my thought of train. No, wait. That's not right. I...lost my...thought....of train....my train thought...I can't remember the saying. You know, the one Mom always says when she forgets what she was saying. Oh! I lost my thought of train! No, wait...is that what I said before? I think it is...Whatever, I don't even know what I was saying anyways.
Me: It had something to do with trains.
Amy: Yeah! No, I meant before.
Me: I know.
Amy: And then.....uhhh....Then I.....um. I just lost my thought of train. No, wait. That's not right. I...lost my...thought....of train....my train thought...I can't remember the saying. You know, the one Mom always says when she forgets what she was saying. Oh! I lost my thought of train! No, wait...is that what I said before? I think it is...Whatever, I don't even know what I was saying anyways.
Me: It had something to do with trains.
Amy: Yeah! No, I meant before.
Me: I know.
Text-to-Speech
Amy walks up to me and holds her phone out. From the phone, a monotone voice greets me by name and states that I'm a "loser brother" or something. Amy bursts out laughing.
Amy: Isn't that cool?
Me: That your phone has text-to-speech?
Amy: No, that I can type something, and it will say it out loud.
Me: Yeah, text-to-speech.
Amy: I don't know what that is.
Me: It's not a fancy term or anything. I don't think there could be a clearer name.
Amy: Whatever.
Amy: Isn't that cool?
Me: That your phone has text-to-speech?
Amy: No, that I can type something, and it will say it out loud.
Me: Yeah, text-to-speech.
Amy: I don't know what that is.
Me: It's not a fancy term or anything. I don't think there could be a clearer name.
Amy: Whatever.
She DOES Belong in a Circus...
Amy comes up to me with two oranges and states: "Did you know you can juggle better when you're singing the circus music? Watch."
She then attempts to juggle the two oranges with one hand while "singing" the Entrance of the Gladiators. The oranges remain aloft for short time before plopping on to the ground.
Amy: No! really! It works!
And so she continues to fail at juggling for some time longer, the whole time doing a horrible imitation of the song over and over.
She then attempts to juggle the two oranges with one hand while "singing" the Entrance of the Gladiators. The oranges remain aloft for short time before plopping on to the ground.
Amy: No! really! It works!
And so she continues to fail at juggling for some time longer, the whole time doing a horrible imitation of the song over and over.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Humble Beginnings?
Amy and I were browsing old music videos from when I was in elementary and junior high. We came across an Nsync video, and after watching a minute or so, Amy exclaims "HEY! IT'S JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE!"
Me: Yeah?
Amy: Hey...do you think that's how he got famous? 'Cause this is old and he doesn't do this anymore, but you don't see the other guys nowadays, right?
Me: Are you serious? This is going on the blog right now.
Amy: No, but really: I bet this is how he got famous before people knew of him.
Me: Yeah?
Amy: Hey...do you think that's how he got famous? 'Cause this is old and he doesn't do this anymore, but you don't see the other guys nowadays, right?
Me: Are you serious? This is going on the blog right now.
Amy: No, but really: I bet this is how he got famous before people knew of him.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
"No, Amy. He was making fun of you"
On the same ride as thew previous post, a couple minutes after we started driving, Amy starts talking. (It was the middle of winter, and it was cold out that night).
Amy: Ummm...Dad? Or Mom. I don't really want to say this, but I think you guys should know the truth. Ummm...well, you see...there's no hot air back here, so....?
Dad: We just got in the van. There's no hot air up here either. Quit being stupid. You know it takes a while to heat up.
Amy: Well, yeah, but I'm just saying! There's no hot air back here. Just so you guys know. You know, so you can get hot air. 'Cause it's cold and stuff.
Dad: What do you want me to do about that?
Amy: I don't know. I'm just saying! It's cold because there's no hot air back here.
Dad (muttering under his breath): I think there's plenty of hot air in the back seat.
Amy: No! Are you even listening?! I said there's no hot air!
Amy: Ummm...Dad? Or Mom. I don't really want to say this, but I think you guys should know the truth. Ummm...well, you see...there's no hot air back here, so....?
Dad: We just got in the van. There's no hot air up here either. Quit being stupid. You know it takes a while to heat up.
Amy: Well, yeah, but I'm just saying! There's no hot air back here. Just so you guys know. You know, so you can get hot air. 'Cause it's cold and stuff.
Dad: What do you want me to do about that?
Amy: I don't know. I'm just saying! It's cold because there's no hot air back here.
Dad (muttering under his breath): I think there's plenty of hot air in the back seat.
Amy: No! Are you even listening?! I said there's no hot air!
Seatbelt Safety
Coming home from our Christmas dinner, my whole family piled into my parents' van. Mom and Dad in the front seats. My brother and I in the middle bucket seats, and Amy in the back bench seat. After buckling in, I see Amy's head poking between my brother and me. I see that she's sitting in the middle of the back bench seat, but only on the edge of the seat. She's leaning forward.
Me: Go sit back properly and put your seatbelt on.
Amy: No.
Me: You want to go through the windshield when we crash? That's if you're lucky enough not to go right into the dash, of course.
Amy: Yeah, that'd be fun.
Me: Seriously. For your safety and my sanity, quit breathing near my ear and put your seatbelt on.
Amy: No.
Me: Why not?
Amy (looks at me with a serious face): Because...this is what I've always wanted.
Me: ...to sit on the edge of your seat in the back of the van with no seatbelt?
Amy: Yes.
Me: ...
Me: Go sit back properly and put your seatbelt on.
Amy: No.
Me: You want to go through the windshield when we crash? That's if you're lucky enough not to go right into the dash, of course.
Amy: Yeah, that'd be fun.
Me: Seriously. For your safety and my sanity, quit breathing near my ear and put your seatbelt on.
Amy: No.
Me: Why not?
Amy (looks at me with a serious face): Because...this is what I've always wanted.
Me: ...to sit on the edge of your seat in the back of the van with no seatbelt?
Amy: Yes.
Me: ...
She Who Laughs Last...
A joke was told. Everyone was laughing. This included Amy, although I knew she didn't understand the joke, so I called her out on it.
Me: Why are you laughing?
Amy: Because it's a joke. Jokes are funny, don't you know?
Me: Yeah, I know jokes are funny. Can you tell me why that one was funny?
Amy: Because I got the joke.
Me: Nope. And now you're the joke.
Me: Why are you laughing?
Amy: Because it's a joke. Jokes are funny, don't you know?
Me: Yeah, I know jokes are funny. Can you tell me why that one was funny?
Amy: Because I got the joke.
Me: Nope. And now you're the joke.
Cubicles
I was at my family Christmas dinner, and my cousin and brother were talking about their school. I mentioned that my brother was always at the same cubicle doing homework when he wasn't in class. Amy piped up:
Amy: What's a cubicle?
Me: You don't know what a cubicle is? Even after we've basically been describing it?
Amy: Well, I mean, I'm pretty sure I know what it is, but I want to make sure.
Me: All right, you tell me what you think it is, and I'll tell you if you're right.
Amy: Isn't it a place it hang out?
Me: Yep.
My uncle who was listening in joined the conversation. Uncle: No, he's lying, Amy. A cubicle is a venereal disease.
Me: You're going to need to help her out. She doesn't know what that word means.
Uncle: Venereal?
Amy: Yeah, what's that?
Uncle: It's the same thing as a sexually transmitted disease.
Amy: Ohhhh...ok. No, you're lying. I know a cubicle is like a local hangout spot.
Uncle: Ok, fine. You win. Yeah, it's a bar. The "ol' Cubicle Pub downtown".
Amy: Oh?! It's a bar?! Maybe I'll go to The Cubicle for my 18th birthday!
Amy: What's a cubicle?
Me: You don't know what a cubicle is? Even after we've basically been describing it?
Amy: Well, I mean, I'm pretty sure I know what it is, but I want to make sure.
Me: All right, you tell me what you think it is, and I'll tell you if you're right.
Amy: Isn't it a place it hang out?
Me: Yep.
My uncle who was listening in joined the conversation. Uncle: No, he's lying, Amy. A cubicle is a venereal disease.
Me: You're going to need to help her out. She doesn't know what that word means.
Uncle: Venereal?
Amy: Yeah, what's that?
Uncle: It's the same thing as a sexually transmitted disease.
Amy: Ohhhh...ok. No, you're lying. I know a cubicle is like a local hangout spot.
Uncle: Ok, fine. You win. Yeah, it's a bar. The "ol' Cubicle Pub downtown".
Amy: Oh?! It's a bar?! Maybe I'll go to The Cubicle for my 18th birthday!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Streets Just Got Less Safe
They gave her her beginner's drivers license. She struggled to pass her written test, however. It took her three tries. And she'd been studying hard for it. Of course, for Amy, any studying is considered "studying hard" unless she's studying Justin Bieber lyrics or inane text messages from nigh-on-equally dense friends. After failing the written test twice, she finally got her beginner's license.
Due to some mild congenital palsy in her right hand, she has some restrictions (she isn't allowed to drive manual transmission, for example), and they suggested a brodie knob that attaches to the steering wheel to aid in steering. To this Amy responded: "I'm not using that! I'll look like a loser!"
The real kicker is that Amy doesn't really card about driving because "boys are supposed to drive me places". She simply wants a photo ID so she can get into the clubs since her 18th birthday is coming up. She's upset that because she postponed getting her license so long that the photo ID won't arrive for 4 weeks and she's stuck with a temporary license until then. Her birthday is in 2 weeks. She's been hounding me to help her figure out a way to get into clubs for her birthday. "What if I show them this temporary license and my high school ID picture. They both have my name on it. The student ID has my picture, and the license has my birthday. That should work, right? Right?!"
I just laughed and walked away.
Due to some mild congenital palsy in her right hand, she has some restrictions (she isn't allowed to drive manual transmission, for example), and they suggested a brodie knob that attaches to the steering wheel to aid in steering. To this Amy responded: "I'm not using that! I'll look like a loser!"
The real kicker is that Amy doesn't really card about driving because "boys are supposed to drive me places". She simply wants a photo ID so she can get into the clubs since her 18th birthday is coming up. She's upset that because she postponed getting her license so long that the photo ID won't arrive for 4 weeks and she's stuck with a temporary license until then. Her birthday is in 2 weeks. She's been hounding me to help her figure out a way to get into clubs for her birthday. "What if I show them this temporary license and my high school ID picture. They both have my name on it. The student ID has my picture, and the license has my birthday. That should work, right? Right?!"
I just laughed and walked away.
Irritable Sister Syndrome
The topic was surgery; the anatomy, the bowel.
Amy: haha, "bowel".
Me: Do you even know what the bowel is?
Amy: Yeah.
Dad: I don't think she can even spell it, let alone tell you what it is.
Amy: I can spell it. B-O-W-L.
Me: Alright. So how do you spell "bowl" then?
Amy: B-O-...L.
Me: Right. I thought so.
Amy: haha, "bowel".
Me: Do you even know what the bowel is?
Amy: Yeah.
Dad: I don't think she can even spell it, let alone tell you what it is.
Amy: I can spell it. B-O-W-L.
Me: Alright. So how do you spell "bowl" then?
Amy: B-O-...L.
Me: Right. I thought so.
Christmas Graittude
My family just finished opening our Christmas gifts. There wasn't a whole lot this year, but due to circumstances, that was expected. Amy has a history of being horribly ungrateful. A couple weeks before Christmas I caught my dad preemptively scolding her for not being thankful for what she does have and what she will get. I thought this might work. It didn't.
Right off the bat, let me state that Amy always gets the most presents. This year was no exception. My parents spend more money on her gifts. It may be because she is the youngest or a girl, I don't know. I'm not complaining about the unfairness, however; it's her complete lack of gratitude--especially when she receives more than others--that gets to me.
Gift #1: Wallet (and it wasn't a dollar-store wallet, either. It was of good quality)
Amy's Reaction (whiny and matter-of-fact): "Oh....A wallet. It's horrible." She tosses it aside. After my dad gets upset at her reaction, she takes a second look at it and says, "well...I can't use it. My friends will see it, and it's not a teenager wallet."
My dad responds with: "Amy, you'll be 18 in 2 weeks. An adult. Try acting like one."
Amy (under her breath): "18 is still a teenager" and she tosses the wallet aside again.
Gift#2: Some make-up (I didn't really get a close look at what kind because I didn't really care)
Amy's Reaction (sarcastically): "Thanks..." and she tosses it over her shoulder.
Gift #3: A new bathrobe
Amy's Reaction: *puts it on* "This is ok".
Gift #4: A pair of Red Canada Mitts
Amy's Reaction: "Mitts?" She eventually put them on and had to go to a mirror to see how they looked on her. I thought that since they were mitts, looking down at your hands would suffice, but then I saw her posing and making duckfaces in the mirror. And she wasn't doing so to be funny--that's what she does all the time.
Gift #5: A special gift card for a whole bunch of tanning minutes
Amy's Reaction: "Oh. Finally something I want and can use. Mom, take me tanning later."
In constrast, here's what I received:
Gift #1: A pack of boxers/socks and a shirt
My Reaction: "Sweet! Boxers and socks! And a new shirt! Thanks!"
Right off the bat, let me state that Amy always gets the most presents. This year was no exception. My parents spend more money on her gifts. It may be because she is the youngest or a girl, I don't know. I'm not complaining about the unfairness, however; it's her complete lack of gratitude--especially when she receives more than others--that gets to me.
Gift #1: Wallet (and it wasn't a dollar-store wallet, either. It was of good quality)
Amy's Reaction (whiny and matter-of-fact): "Oh....A wallet. It's horrible." She tosses it aside. After my dad gets upset at her reaction, she takes a second look at it and says, "well...I can't use it. My friends will see it, and it's not a teenager wallet."
My dad responds with: "Amy, you'll be 18 in 2 weeks. An adult. Try acting like one."
Amy (under her breath): "18 is still a teenager" and she tosses the wallet aside again.
Gift#2: Some make-up (I didn't really get a close look at what kind because I didn't really care)
Amy's Reaction (sarcastically): "Thanks..." and she tosses it over her shoulder.
Gift #3: A new bathrobe
Amy's Reaction: *puts it on* "This is ok".
Gift #4: A pair of Red Canada Mitts
Amy's Reaction: "Mitts?" She eventually put them on and had to go to a mirror to see how they looked on her. I thought that since they were mitts, looking down at your hands would suffice, but then I saw her posing and making duckfaces in the mirror. And she wasn't doing so to be funny--that's what she does all the time.
Gift #5: A special gift card for a whole bunch of tanning minutes
Amy's Reaction: "Oh. Finally something I want and can use. Mom, take me tanning later."
In constrast, here's what I received:
Gift #1: A pack of boxers/socks and a shirt
My Reaction: "Sweet! Boxers and socks! And a new shirt! Thanks!"
Africa
My future profession involves working in a hospital, so to enter the program at college, I had to go get a whole bunch of vaccines and tests done. I was discussing the regiment I had to go through to my parents when Amy overheard and came into the room.
Amy: Why do you have to get so many medicines?
Me (jokingly): So I don't get sick when I go work in Africa.
Amy: You're going to Africa?
Me: Uhhhh, yeah.
Amy: What?! Really?!
Me (lying through my teeth): Yeah, that's where I'm doing my clinical placement. How do you not know this?
Amy (turns to my dad, who is also in the room): Is that true?
Dad (playing along): Yeah. Seriously, Amy, do you never clean your ears? Or do you just never pay attention?
Amy: Well, I didn't know!
Me: Did you not notice when I was gone for 2 weeks last month?
Amy: You were gone?
Me: Yeah, I went to Africa for an introduction to clinical work.
Amy: Did you really?
Me (now I'm feeling bad, so I'm trying to sound a bit sarcastic, but she doesn't pick up on it): Oh, yeah. It was great!
Amy: So....so, you were with dirty poor people?
Me: Sure, a lot of them weren't as well off as we are.
Amy: Gross. How can you even do that? You'd better not have brought diseases back!
Me: I only brought two diseases back, but I scrubbed them off of me using your bedsheets.
Amy: What?! No, you didn't!
Me: Obviously not. Why would I even want to be near your bed? I'd probably get bedbugs.
Amy: I don't have bedbugs? Do I, Mom?
Mom: *shrugs* meh.
Amy: Ok, Mom! I know you're joking! (she turns to me) So how can you even do that? Help dirty poor people?
Me: Because they need help.
Amy: But they're dirty and poor.
Me: So they can definitely use the help, don't you agree?
Amy: I guess, but I ain't going near no dirty people!
Amy: Why do you have to get so many medicines?
Me (jokingly): So I don't get sick when I go work in Africa.
Amy: You're going to Africa?
Me: Uhhhh, yeah.
Amy: What?! Really?!
Me (lying through my teeth): Yeah, that's where I'm doing my clinical placement. How do you not know this?
Amy (turns to my dad, who is also in the room): Is that true?
Dad (playing along): Yeah. Seriously, Amy, do you never clean your ears? Or do you just never pay attention?
Amy: Well, I didn't know!
Me: Did you not notice when I was gone for 2 weeks last month?
Amy: You were gone?
Me: Yeah, I went to Africa for an introduction to clinical work.
Amy: Did you really?
Me (now I'm feeling bad, so I'm trying to sound a bit sarcastic, but she doesn't pick up on it): Oh, yeah. It was great!
Amy: So....so, you were with dirty poor people?
Me: Sure, a lot of them weren't as well off as we are.
Amy: Gross. How can you even do that? You'd better not have brought diseases back!
Me: I only brought two diseases back, but I scrubbed them off of me using your bedsheets.
Amy: What?! No, you didn't!
Me: Obviously not. Why would I even want to be near your bed? I'd probably get bedbugs.
Amy: I don't have bedbugs? Do I, Mom?
Mom: *shrugs* meh.
Amy: Ok, Mom! I know you're joking! (she turns to me) So how can you even do that? Help dirty poor people?
Me: Because they need help.
Amy: But they're dirty and poor.
Me: So they can definitely use the help, don't you agree?
Amy: I guess, but I ain't going near no dirty people!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Guess who doesn't appreciate the value of money? (hint: it's Amy)
Amy walks in the front door one day, and my mom says, "Amy, you have mail."
Amy: I have mail?!?! Who sent me mail? Why didn't they just text me?!
Mom: It's from the bank.
Amy: Why did they mail me?
Mom: It's just your bank statement. You get one every month. Why do you not know this?
Amy: Oh, what's that?
Mom: Just open it. It shows how much money you have.
Amy: I have money?!?!
Mom: I don't know. Open it.
Amy opens the envelope and scans the paper with confused eyes for a bit before they light up.
Amy: I have 2,000 dollars??!?! Mom!! I have 2,000 dollars! That's what it says here. "Dollar sign two zero zero zero and zero zero cents."
Mom: Yes and no. That's, umm...how do I put this so you'll understand? Umm..that's Dad's and my money. It's attached to your account, but you can't use it right now.
Amy: Why not? It says it's mine. See? It's right here.
Mom: No, you can't touch it yet. It's building interest right now.
Amy: Well, how much money can I use? Where does it say? Is this what I can use?
Mom: Yeah, that's your savings.
Amy: TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!? I HAVE TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS THAT'S ALL MINE!?!?!
Mom: Yeah.
Amy: I can buy SO much stuff now! How come I didn't know I had $200?
Me: Hey, Amy! Maybe you should use that money to pay Mom back for all the stuff she buys you on a regular basis.
Mom: Hey, I like that idea! Why don't you pay me back for all your phone bills that I'm paying for?
Amy: Nah, you already paid them.
Me: No, you're supposed to pay her back.
Amy: No, I'm going to spend it all on tanning minutes. That's all I care about in my life.
I just walked away at this point. I didn't think there was anything more to be said. She sufficiently summed up all the relevant character flaws shown in this conversation.
Amy: I have mail?!?! Who sent me mail? Why didn't they just text me?!
Mom: It's from the bank.
Amy: Why did they mail me?
Mom: It's just your bank statement. You get one every month. Why do you not know this?
Amy: Oh, what's that?
Mom: Just open it. It shows how much money you have.
Amy: I have money?!?!
Mom: I don't know. Open it.
Amy opens the envelope and scans the paper with confused eyes for a bit before they light up.
Amy: I have 2,000 dollars??!?! Mom!! I have 2,000 dollars! That's what it says here. "Dollar sign two zero zero zero and zero zero cents."
Mom: Yes and no. That's, umm...how do I put this so you'll understand? Umm..that's Dad's and my money. It's attached to your account, but you can't use it right now.
Amy: Why not? It says it's mine. See? It's right here.
Mom: No, you can't touch it yet. It's building interest right now.
Amy: Well, how much money can I use? Where does it say? Is this what I can use?
Mom: Yeah, that's your savings.
Amy: TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!? I HAVE TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS THAT'S ALL MINE!?!?!
Mom: Yeah.
Amy: I can buy SO much stuff now! How come I didn't know I had $200?
Me: Hey, Amy! Maybe you should use that money to pay Mom back for all the stuff she buys you on a regular basis.
Mom: Hey, I like that idea! Why don't you pay me back for all your phone bills that I'm paying for?
Amy: Nah, you already paid them.
Me: No, you're supposed to pay her back.
Amy: No, I'm going to spend it all on tanning minutes. That's all I care about in my life.
I just walked away at this point. I didn't think there was anything more to be said. She sufficiently summed up all the relevant character flaws shown in this conversation.
How to Prepare Garlic Fingers
I pulled a box of garlic fingers out of the freezer, opened it up, put the frozen mass on a plate, and put it in the microwave for three minutes. Like I'm supposed to based on the instructions on the side of the box. Amy saw this, and demonstrated her amazing grasp of the English language.
Amy: You heat that up?
Me: Yeah. Did you think I would eat it when it's rock-hard frozen? Please tell me that's not how you make them.
Amy: No, I thought you oven them.
*I had to pause and think for a second before responding*
Me: Amy, while "heat" and "microwave" can be used synonymously, "heating" is not restricted to "microwaving". Also, "oven" is not a verb.
Amy: You heat that up?
Me: Yeah. Did you think I would eat it when it's rock-hard frozen? Please tell me that's not how you make them.
Amy: No, I thought you oven them.
*I had to pause and think for a second before responding*
Me: Amy, while "heat" and "microwave" can be used synonymously, "heating" is not restricted to "microwaving". Also, "oven" is not a verb.
Wise Sayings at Breakfast
I walk into the kitchen this morning to have some breakfast. I see Amy eating the last of my cereal.
Me: Hey, pal. What do you think you're doing? That's my cereal.
Amy: Yeah?
Me: Yeah, so now I have to find something else to eat.
Amy: Well, sometimes you have to share the willing.
Me: What?"
Amy: Sometimes you have to share the willing.
Me: Share the what?
Amy: Share the willing.
Me: The willing?
Amy: Yeah.
Me: Ok...so I did hear you correctly. I still don't get it. Share the willing?
Amy: Yeah, sometimes you have to share the willing.
Me: No, I know what you're saying; I just don't understand it. What are you talking about.
Amy: It works like this: I'm willing to share, so you have to be willing to share.
Me: ...
Amy: See? It makes sense.
Me: No. Not at all. First of all, I obviously wasn't willing to share since I came up here and was upset that you are eating the last of my cereal. But the first clause of your saying states that you are willing to share, and I see nothing that you are offering.
Amy: I'm willing to share your cereal with you. That's why I ate some. You have to be willing to share your cereal with me, so I can eat some.
Me: You're an idiot.
Me: Hey, pal. What do you think you're doing? That's my cereal.
Amy: Yeah?
Me: Yeah, so now I have to find something else to eat.
Amy: Well, sometimes you have to share the willing.
Me: What?"
Amy: Sometimes you have to share the willing.
Me: Share the what?
Amy: Share the willing.
Me: The willing?
Amy: Yeah.
Me: Ok...so I did hear you correctly. I still don't get it. Share the willing?
Amy: Yeah, sometimes you have to share the willing.
Me: No, I know what you're saying; I just don't understand it. What are you talking about.
Amy: It works like this: I'm willing to share, so you have to be willing to share.
Me: ...
Amy: See? It makes sense.
Me: No. Not at all. First of all, I obviously wasn't willing to share since I came up here and was upset that you are eating the last of my cereal. But the first clause of your saying states that you are willing to share, and I see nothing that you are offering.
Amy: I'm willing to share your cereal with you. That's why I ate some. You have to be willing to share your cereal with me, so I can eat some.
Me: You're an idiot.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Young Love....As A Rule
Amy hadn't watched The Notebook, and since I knew she can't fully grasp--and therefore enjoy--anything more than a chick flick, I said she should watch it. For a "girly" movie, I enjoyed it, and I'm always so sick of hearing Amy talk about what are generally accepted to be bad movies in a positive light. And her complete avoidance of any "classics" or any movie that involves using just a portion of brainpower boggles my mind. The Notebook is one of those chick-flicks worth watching. So she watched it and after it was over, I asked her what she thought of it. Her response:
Amy: Well, I thought it was pretty good even though it took place in olden days. But then the ending ruined it all.
Me: Was it because you saw it coming? I guessed right at the beginning, so the film lost of bit of its magic.
Amy: Guessed what?
Me: That the present day people were the ones in the story.
Amy: No, I didn't get that.
Me: But you got it at the end, right?
Amy: I guess...?
Me: Wait, why didn't you like the ending? Because you didn't get it?
Amy: No! The ending just sucked!
Me: Why?
Amy: It got all gross!
Me: What?!
Amy: There was OLD PEOPLE LOVE! UGH! The whole movie was good, but then they ruined it right at the end with OLD PEOPLE LOVE! So gross....
Me: ...I think it was supposed to be adorable, at the least.
Amy: Old people love is NOT adorable. It's just gross. Why do old people even care? They're old! They shouldn't be allowed since it's gross.
Also, without any provocation on my part, Amy will make comments when watching movies or TV about "old people love". And I've found that her definition of "old people love" is pretty wide. The other day there was a middle-aged couple (50 years at most) getting married, and when they kissed, Amy looked at me and asked, "Don't you think it's super awkward when old people kiss?"
"They're getting married. It's traditional," I explained.
Amy scrunches up her face in disgust and said, "still...so awkward".
Amy: Well, I thought it was pretty good even though it took place in olden days. But then the ending ruined it all.
Me: Was it because you saw it coming? I guessed right at the beginning, so the film lost of bit of its magic.
Amy: Guessed what?
Me: That the present day people were the ones in the story.
Amy: No, I didn't get that.
Me: But you got it at the end, right?
Amy: I guess...?
Me: Wait, why didn't you like the ending? Because you didn't get it?
Amy: No! The ending just sucked!
Me: Why?
Amy: It got all gross!
Me: What?!
Amy: There was OLD PEOPLE LOVE! UGH! The whole movie was good, but then they ruined it right at the end with OLD PEOPLE LOVE! So gross....
Me: ...I think it was supposed to be adorable, at the least.
Amy: Old people love is NOT adorable. It's just gross. Why do old people even care? They're old! They shouldn't be allowed since it's gross.
Also, without any provocation on my part, Amy will make comments when watching movies or TV about "old people love". And I've found that her definition of "old people love" is pretty wide. The other day there was a middle-aged couple (50 years at most) getting married, and when they kissed, Amy looked at me and asked, "Don't you think it's super awkward when old people kiss?"
"They're getting married. It's traditional," I explained.
Amy scrunches up her face in disgust and said, "still...so awkward".
Monday, November 8, 2010
Make your own clever joke about irony for this one...
My mom came rushing downstairs with Amy hot on her heels. The two of them are laughing so hard that they are having trouble speaking. My mom is laughing so hard that she is crying. I don't know what she's laughing about, but I discovered that Amy is laughing at my mom laughing, not because she understands what my mom is laughing at. This makes it all the funnier.
Confused? So was I. I sat patiently while the two of them tried to clam down enough to speak. Eventually, this transpired:
Mom: Tell Cory what you just said!
Amy: What? What's so funny?
Mom: Just tell him! Oh, hahaha! He has to hear this! Tell him what just happened.
Me: Did it have something to do with the phone call just now? I went to pick it up, but I saw it was the school calling, and I assumed it was just another "A student in your household by the name of *AMY* missed the following periods: *ALL OF THEM*" recordings.
As an aside, I'll add that for the previous month or so, Amy's school has been calling nonstop. I've picked it up a lot, and I imagine they've called a lot more when I haven't been home. Each time is a recording stating that my sister is missing (read: skipping) most of her classes. My mom is aware of this and does nothing. I'm not sure what I find more disappointing, but that's besides the point. What is important is that Amy skips a lot of her classes and we get a lot of recorded phone calls stating this fact.
Mom: Yeah! Se,, that's what I thought it was, so I just immediately put it on speaker phone, so Amy would hear the recording in her room. But then, after a pause, I hear a voice say "Hello?" So I quickly take speaker phone off, and say "Hello." It's not a recording! It's a real person. And they're asking for Amy. So I go give the phone to Amy.
My mom bursts into laughter again at this point and says to Amy: "Tell him! Just tell him!"
Amy: What? I don't know what's funny. You just keep laughing and it makes me laugh.
My mom settles down again and continues her story: So I can only hear Amy's end and it's a lot of "Yeah....mm-hmm....oh......ok......yeah.....I guess......so?......so?.....So what am I supposed to do?....oh, ok....here, just talk to my mom." and she hands me the phone.
Me: Ok, so what was it about? Who was it?
Mom: So I have a slightly confused-sounding woman re-telling me everything she told Amy. She wanted to let Amy know that...
My Mom and sister glance at each other, and Amy bursts out laughing and my mom loses it again, too.
Me: Ok! Just tell me. It better be as funny as you're making it out to be.
Mom (through laughter): AMY GOT A SCHOLARSHIP!
My mom and sister both continue laughing uncontrollably.
Me: No, she didn't.
Mom: She did! Really!
Me: If you guys are trying to trick me, I'll give you a hint: next time at least try not to laugh.
Mom (calming down): No, I'm serious! It was Amy's teacher letting her know she got a scholarship. But Amy gave me the phone to talk to her...
Amy: ..BECAUSE I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A SCHOLARSHIP IS!
Amy bursts into laughter, not quite understanding why it's extra funny. She thought it was just funny that she didn't know what a scholarship was. She completely missed the irony. This is what my mom (and now I) were laughing at.
It turns out Amy's school was given a handful of Dramatic Arts scholarships for students in the drama classes. Drama is one of the classes Amy enjoys (or at least attends somewhat), and her teacher decided to give one of these scholarships to my sister. My understanding is that half the class got these scholarships, so it really isn't anything special, but Amy will need to take advantage of it, surely. I don't know how much the scholarship is for, or to where, but if it's important, I'll certain it'll lead to more content for this blog.
Also, my mom and I did explain what a scholarship was to my sister. Eventually.
Confused? So was I. I sat patiently while the two of them tried to clam down enough to speak. Eventually, this transpired:
Mom: Tell Cory what you just said!
Amy: What? What's so funny?
Mom: Just tell him! Oh, hahaha! He has to hear this! Tell him what just happened.
Me: Did it have something to do with the phone call just now? I went to pick it up, but I saw it was the school calling, and I assumed it was just another "A student in your household by the name of *AMY* missed the following periods: *ALL OF THEM*" recordings.
As an aside, I'll add that for the previous month or so, Amy's school has been calling nonstop. I've picked it up a lot, and I imagine they've called a lot more when I haven't been home. Each time is a recording stating that my sister is missing (read: skipping) most of her classes. My mom is aware of this and does nothing. I'm not sure what I find more disappointing, but that's besides the point. What is important is that Amy skips a lot of her classes and we get a lot of recorded phone calls stating this fact.
Mom: Yeah! Se,, that's what I thought it was, so I just immediately put it on speaker phone, so Amy would hear the recording in her room. But then, after a pause, I hear a voice say "Hello?" So I quickly take speaker phone off, and say "Hello." It's not a recording! It's a real person. And they're asking for Amy. So I go give the phone to Amy.
My mom bursts into laughter again at this point and says to Amy: "Tell him! Just tell him!"
Amy: What? I don't know what's funny. You just keep laughing and it makes me laugh.
My mom settles down again and continues her story: So I can only hear Amy's end and it's a lot of "Yeah....mm-hmm....oh......ok......yeah.....I guess......so?......so?.....So what am I supposed to do?....oh, ok....here, just talk to my mom." and she hands me the phone.
Me: Ok, so what was it about? Who was it?
Mom: So I have a slightly confused-sounding woman re-telling me everything she told Amy. She wanted to let Amy know that...
My Mom and sister glance at each other, and Amy bursts out laughing and my mom loses it again, too.
Me: Ok! Just tell me. It better be as funny as you're making it out to be.
Mom (through laughter): AMY GOT A SCHOLARSHIP!
My mom and sister both continue laughing uncontrollably.
Me: No, she didn't.
Mom: She did! Really!
Me: If you guys are trying to trick me, I'll give you a hint: next time at least try not to laugh.
Mom (calming down): No, I'm serious! It was Amy's teacher letting her know she got a scholarship. But Amy gave me the phone to talk to her...
Amy: ..BECAUSE I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT A SCHOLARSHIP IS!
Amy bursts into laughter, not quite understanding why it's extra funny. She thought it was just funny that she didn't know what a scholarship was. She completely missed the irony. This is what my mom (and now I) were laughing at.
It turns out Amy's school was given a handful of Dramatic Arts scholarships for students in the drama classes. Drama is one of the classes Amy enjoys (or at least attends somewhat), and her teacher decided to give one of these scholarships to my sister. My understanding is that half the class got these scholarships, so it really isn't anything special, but Amy will need to take advantage of it, surely. I don't know how much the scholarship is for, or to where, but if it's important, I'll certain it'll lead to more content for this blog.
Also, my mom and I did explain what a scholarship was to my sister. Eventually.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Amy's Laugh
I should clarify how my sister laughs. She almost always bursts out laughing after trying to hold it in. It doesn't have to be anything very funny, as long as it tickles her own funny bone (she thinks she's hilarious, while most people end up laughing at her laugh).
You see, when her laughter bursts out, it's loud and annoying. The closest I can get to putting it into words on a page, would be this:
It starts with her trying to hold it in with some throat sounds and nasally noises, and then--when she can no longer contain it--it bursts forth wth:
D'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Usually super high pitched and extending for at least a few seconds until she needs to take a breath in. At that point it falls apart into "regular" laughter with a more familiar "ha-ha-ha" sound to it.
So whenever I state that my sister "burst out laughing", picture her trying to hold back a laugh with all her ight, then screaming, "D'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" at the top of her lungs.
You see, when her laughter bursts out, it's loud and annoying. The closest I can get to putting it into words on a page, would be this:
It starts with her trying to hold it in with some throat sounds and nasally noises, and then--when she can no longer contain it--it bursts forth wth:
D'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Usually super high pitched and extending for at least a few seconds until she needs to take a breath in. At that point it falls apart into "regular" laughter with a more familiar "ha-ha-ha" sound to it.
So whenever I state that my sister "burst out laughing", picture her trying to hold back a laugh with all her ight, then screaming, "D'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" at the top of her lungs.
Table Manners
My mom and I are at the kitchen table eating supper and talking when my sister rounds the corner and enters the kitchen. She walks in an odd, waddling manner. She's dressed in her bathrobe (thankfully closed, because leaving it open is something she is wont to do no matter how much my family complains about it), and she's holding something in her hand. I couldn't quite see what it was because the chairbacks on the other side of the table obscured my line of sight.
She has this goofy smirk on her face, as though she thinks what's she's doing is funny or clever in some way.My mom and I stop talking and look at her. My mom, on the side of the table nearer to Amy, sees what's she's holding and says, "Oh, geez! What are you doing?!"
Still unable to see, I crane my neck a bit. Amy sees this and decides to lift her hand so I can see the object she's holding: a pair on panties gripped cautiously between 2 fingers and held away from her body.
"I diarrhea'd in my pants," she states simply, holding her soiled underwear like a victory trophy.
"What?!" I exclaim. "Why are you showing us this?! That's nothing to brag about! We're trying to eat! Why would you think it's acceptable to show that to us?!"
Amy bursts out laughing at this point. Not because it was all a big joke, but because she thinks bringing her poopy underwear into the kitchen while I'm eating is hilarious.
"Get out of here, Amy!" my mom shouts.
"But what do I do?!" Amy shouts back, half-laughing.
"Go wash them!" My mom says.
"But it's fresh!"
"I know! That's why you should wash them now! Now get that out of here!"
"I don't want to touch it, though," Amy complains. "It's gross. I'm going to drop them here."
"No! You're not!" Mom orders.
Amy: "Well, do we have gloves at least?"
Mom: "No, just go wash them! Just get your underwear out of here!"
Amy: "Well, I need gloves! I'm not going--oh, wait. I know."
Amy then drops her underwear on the kitchen floor, open a drawer and pulls out some Saran wrap. She tears off a huge piece, then wraps it around her hand and proceeds to pick up her soiled underwear.
"Like my gloves, Mom?" She asks, still laughing. "I just made them."
"What is wrong with you?" My mom asks. Luckily, my family and I don't lose our appetites easily, and my mom and I finished eating.
Ten minutes later, I'm downstairs doing homework when I hear my sister shouting upstairs. I only catch a portion of it. To the tune of The Diarrhea Song, she sings:
"When you're driving in your car,
And you're heading to work.
Diarrhea, diarrhea!"
And she bursts out laughing. I go back to my homework, but a minute later, Amy comes running downstairs (still in her robe) and says:
"Did you hear that? I was singing. It went: 'when you're driving in your car, and you're heading to work'! HAHAHAHAHA! I MADE THAT UP JUST RIGHT NOW!"
"I know you did," I replied, "because it's not even closer to rhyming. Now get out of here."
She has this goofy smirk on her face, as though she thinks what's she's doing is funny or clever in some way.My mom and I stop talking and look at her. My mom, on the side of the table nearer to Amy, sees what's she's holding and says, "Oh, geez! What are you doing?!"
Still unable to see, I crane my neck a bit. Amy sees this and decides to lift her hand so I can see the object she's holding: a pair on panties gripped cautiously between 2 fingers and held away from her body.
"I diarrhea'd in my pants," she states simply, holding her soiled underwear like a victory trophy.
"What?!" I exclaim. "Why are you showing us this?! That's nothing to brag about! We're trying to eat! Why would you think it's acceptable to show that to us?!"
Amy bursts out laughing at this point. Not because it was all a big joke, but because she thinks bringing her poopy underwear into the kitchen while I'm eating is hilarious.
"Get out of here, Amy!" my mom shouts.
"But what do I do?!" Amy shouts back, half-laughing.
"Go wash them!" My mom says.
"But it's fresh!"
"I know! That's why you should wash them now! Now get that out of here!"
"I don't want to touch it, though," Amy complains. "It's gross. I'm going to drop them here."
"No! You're not!" Mom orders.
Amy: "Well, do we have gloves at least?"
Mom: "No, just go wash them! Just get your underwear out of here!"
Amy: "Well, I need gloves! I'm not going--oh, wait. I know."
Amy then drops her underwear on the kitchen floor, open a drawer and pulls out some Saran wrap. She tears off a huge piece, then wraps it around her hand and proceeds to pick up her soiled underwear.
"Like my gloves, Mom?" She asks, still laughing. "I just made them."
"What is wrong with you?" My mom asks. Luckily, my family and I don't lose our appetites easily, and my mom and I finished eating.
Ten minutes later, I'm downstairs doing homework when I hear my sister shouting upstairs. I only catch a portion of it. To the tune of The Diarrhea Song, she sings:
"When you're driving in your car,
And you're heading to work.
Diarrhea, diarrhea!"
And she bursts out laughing. I go back to my homework, but a minute later, Amy comes running downstairs (still in her robe) and says:
"Did you hear that? I was singing. It went: 'when you're driving in your car, and you're heading to work'! HAHAHAHAHA! I MADE THAT UP JUST RIGHT NOW!"
"I know you did," I replied, "because it's not even closer to rhyming. Now get out of here."
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Parasitaphobia
A bed bug scare at my sister's school has made her paranoid and given her a crippling fear that bed bugs are in her room. She claims her bed is infested with bed bugs and other gross bugs and forced my mom to wash her sheets, vacuum her room, and inspect her mattress thoroughly for any signs of these bugs.
There was nothing.
The funniest part is to get my mom to do all this, she threatened to sleep in the bathtub. And she was serious. Until I told her about how spiders like to fall in there and can't get out. She said she didn't believe me, but still added, "well, I'll find somewhere else to sleep then!"
Halloween just passed, and one of my friends left a fake moustache at my house. I decided to leave it on Amy's pillow for her to find before she went to bed that night. To me, it looked like a furry caterpillar.
I found it later that Amy thought the same thing. She told me she thought it was a worm and stared at it for a few minutes, but didn't see it move. Still not sure, she went up close and blew on it, but still nothing. Carefully, she poked it quickly and it flipped over to reveal the sticky padded backside.
Realizing that it wasn't a worm, she decided to be clever and try to scare my mom with it. (I had told my mom prior to this about my plan to ensure my mom wasn't grossed out in case Amy complained to her). Amy threw the moustache on my mom and said something like, "Mom! There's a worm!"
My mom saw it, recognized it, and quickly said, "Oh, ok," then proceeded to put the moustache on. Amy, however, thought she was going to eat it and stood there dumbfounded until she realized she had gotten tricked twice.
There was nothing.
The funniest part is to get my mom to do all this, she threatened to sleep in the bathtub. And she was serious. Until I told her about how spiders like to fall in there and can't get out. She said she didn't believe me, but still added, "well, I'll find somewhere else to sleep then!"
Halloween just passed, and one of my friends left a fake moustache at my house. I decided to leave it on Amy's pillow for her to find before she went to bed that night. To me, it looked like a furry caterpillar.
I found it later that Amy thought the same thing. She told me she thought it was a worm and stared at it for a few minutes, but didn't see it move. Still not sure, she went up close and blew on it, but still nothing. Carefully, she poked it quickly and it flipped over to reveal the sticky padded backside.
Realizing that it wasn't a worm, she decided to be clever and try to scare my mom with it. (I had told my mom prior to this about my plan to ensure my mom wasn't grossed out in case Amy complained to her). Amy threw the moustache on my mom and said something like, "Mom! There's a worm!"
My mom saw it, recognized it, and quickly said, "Oh, ok," then proceeded to put the moustache on. Amy, however, thought she was going to eat it and stood there dumbfounded until she realized she had gotten tricked twice.
Crime and Mispronoununishments
My sister found out that the profession I'll be going into involves giving people enemas. She instantly knew what that meant, but then proceeded to bury that triumph with some dumb conversation.
Amy: You can't just do that, can you? Don't you have to get a police check to make sure you're not a bad guy?
Me: Yeah, I already did. That was a requirement before even starting the schooling.
Amy: No, you didn't.
Me: What do you mean "No [I] didn't?". I did. I had to.
Amy: How come I never heard about it?
Me: For one, a criminal background check is a confidential legal paper. Secondly, I never told you.
Amy: So how many crimes did you have on it.
Me: How many do you think I had?
Amy: Two.
Me: Name them.
Amy: I don't know. I was just guessing.
Me: I know because I don't have a criminal record.
Amy: How do they know that you aren't just saying you aren't a crimical?
Me: A what?
Amy: A crimical.
Me: A crimical?
Amy: Ok! I just can't say that word! You know what I mean.
Me: Criminal?
Amy: Yeah.
Me: That's not a hard word. You have no excuse for saying it wrong.
Amy: ...Crimical. Cri-MIC-al. Ok! It doesn't even matter!
Me: How do people not openly mock you when you speak to them?
Amy: Hey, what if you got arrested for a second?
Me: What?
Amy: Like, what do they put on your crimical record if you get arrested for just one second?
Me: You can't get arrested for a second. What would the point of that be?
Amy: Well, some of my friends got arrested so a second.
Me: No, they didn't. It must have been longer than a second. Don't exaggerate.
Amy: Well, it was a really short time. But they had handcuffs on! They got caught going somewhere they weren't allowed to...path...tressing.
Me: Trespassing?
Amy: Yeah, trespassing. The police came and arrested them and them let them go right after. Do they have crimical records?
Me: Criminal. And I don't know. Probably not. It sounds like they just got a warning.
Amy: But they were in handcuffs.
Me: I'm not a cop. I don't know.
Amy: Well, supposably, theyy--
Me: Supposably?
Amy: I mean "supposabably".
Me: Nope. That's it. I draw lines. "Supposabably" is one of them. I'm done with this conversation.
Amy: You can't just do that, can you? Don't you have to get a police check to make sure you're not a bad guy?
Me: Yeah, I already did. That was a requirement before even starting the schooling.
Amy: No, you didn't.
Me: What do you mean "No [I] didn't?". I did. I had to.
Amy: How come I never heard about it?
Me: For one, a criminal background check is a confidential legal paper. Secondly, I never told you.
Amy: So how many crimes did you have on it.
Me: How many do you think I had?
Amy: Two.
Me: Name them.
Amy: I don't know. I was just guessing.
Me: I know because I don't have a criminal record.
Amy: How do they know that you aren't just saying you aren't a crimical?
Me: A what?
Amy: A crimical.
Me: A crimical?
Amy: Ok! I just can't say that word! You know what I mean.
Me: Criminal?
Amy: Yeah.
Me: That's not a hard word. You have no excuse for saying it wrong.
Amy: ...Crimical. Cri-MIC-al. Ok! It doesn't even matter!
Me: How do people not openly mock you when you speak to them?
Amy: Hey, what if you got arrested for a second?
Me: What?
Amy: Like, what do they put on your crimical record if you get arrested for just one second?
Me: You can't get arrested for a second. What would the point of that be?
Amy: Well, some of my friends got arrested so a second.
Me: No, they didn't. It must have been longer than a second. Don't exaggerate.
Amy: Well, it was a really short time. But they had handcuffs on! They got caught going somewhere they weren't allowed to...path...tressing.
Me: Trespassing?
Amy: Yeah, trespassing. The police came and arrested them and them let them go right after. Do they have crimical records?
Me: Criminal. And I don't know. Probably not. It sounds like they just got a warning.
Amy: But they were in handcuffs.
Me: I'm not a cop. I don't know.
Amy: Well, supposably, theyy--
Me: Supposably?
Amy: I mean "supposabably".
Me: Nope. That's it. I draw lines. "Supposabably" is one of them. I'm done with this conversation.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Bunnies and the Bees
I caught this back and forth between my mom and my sister when I was making myself food in the kitchen.
Amy: Echo (our dog) likes dicks, did you know that?
Mom: Why do you even say things? Like, do you even think before you open your mouth?
Amy: I'm just saying! She's a girl, so she likes dicks. That's how it works.
Then after thinking for a moment, Amy says this (and I'm using her EXACT words):
Amy: Does bunnies has penises?
Mom: Why?! Here, I'll just say this: all mammals have penises.
Amy: So bees have penises?!
Mom: I said mammals. Not animals.
Amy: Yeah, I know.
Mom: Oh, ok. I was hoping you had heard me wrong. That's too bad.
Amy: Echo (our dog) likes dicks, did you know that?
Mom: Why do you even say things? Like, do you even think before you open your mouth?
Amy: I'm just saying! She's a girl, so she likes dicks. That's how it works.
Then after thinking for a moment, Amy says this (and I'm using her EXACT words):
Amy: Does bunnies has penises?
Mom: Why?! Here, I'll just say this: all mammals have penises.
Amy: So bees have penises?!
Mom: I said mammals. Not animals.
Amy: Yeah, I know.
Mom: Oh, ok. I was hoping you had heard me wrong. That's too bad.
Sociology Terms
Amy's talking about how great she is at sociology: "Finally! A class I don't suck at!" To her credit, she is averaging around 70% in the class, which is the equivalent of an A+ for her. She came home from school and decided to quiz me on the sociology terms she learned today.
Amy: Do you know what high culture is?
Cory: I would say that would be above "regular" culture when it comes to classiness. Refined, sophisticated, some might even say pretentious.
Amy: Nope, wrong. It's like upper class. Rich people stuff.
Cory: That's what I said.
Amy: No! No you didn't! I caught you! You thought you knew it, and then you were wrong! You said a bunch of wrong stuff.
Cory: I'm just going to understand that you don't know most of the terms I used, then.
Amy: Yeah, but you still didn't say "upper class", so you're wrong!
Cory: Alright, sure. Whatever you say.
Amy: Don't try to act like you don't care! You're upset that you didn't know.
Cory (sarcastically): Devastated.
Amy: I know. I can tell. Do you know the difference between real culture and ideal culture?
Cory: If that's as straightforward as it sounds, then real culture is the actual culture, compared to ideal culture which would be...what real culture should aspire to. Ideal culture. Like perfection. It's hard to explain when the term itself is so fitting.
Amy: You don't know!
Cory: Ok, how about this: Real culture has flaws. Ideal culture doesn't. We should strive for an ideal culture.
Amy: I don't even know what you're saying. Just stop, it's too funny when you're wrong.
Cory: Ok, explain it to me then.
Amy: Real culture is what we do everyday all the time and ideal culture is what we should do.
Cory: Yeah.
Amy: Yeah, so you were wrong.
Cory: I have no idea how you come to that conclusion. I think you're not even listening to what I say.
Amy: Ok, do you know what cultural diversity is?
Cory: Yes, but why don't you just tell me to save time since you're going to say my answer is wrong somehow.
Amy: Cultural diversity is...wait, I forgot...no, hang on....just let me think...cultural diversity is...cultural diversity is skinheads.
Cory: Skinheads?
Amy: Yeah.
Cory: "Cultural diversity is skinheads"?
Amy: Something like that.
Cory: Do you know what a skinhead is?
Amy: Nope.
Cory: Ok, I have better things to do. I'm leaving.
Amy: Do you know what high culture is?
Cory: I would say that would be above "regular" culture when it comes to classiness. Refined, sophisticated, some might even say pretentious.
Amy: Nope, wrong. It's like upper class. Rich people stuff.
Cory: That's what I said.
Amy: No! No you didn't! I caught you! You thought you knew it, and then you were wrong! You said a bunch of wrong stuff.
Cory: I'm just going to understand that you don't know most of the terms I used, then.
Amy: Yeah, but you still didn't say "upper class", so you're wrong!
Cory: Alright, sure. Whatever you say.
Amy: Don't try to act like you don't care! You're upset that you didn't know.
Cory (sarcastically): Devastated.
Amy: I know. I can tell. Do you know the difference between real culture and ideal culture?
Cory: If that's as straightforward as it sounds, then real culture is the actual culture, compared to ideal culture which would be...what real culture should aspire to. Ideal culture. Like perfection. It's hard to explain when the term itself is so fitting.
Amy: You don't know!
Cory: Ok, how about this: Real culture has flaws. Ideal culture doesn't. We should strive for an ideal culture.
Amy: I don't even know what you're saying. Just stop, it's too funny when you're wrong.
Cory: Ok, explain it to me then.
Amy: Real culture is what we do everyday all the time and ideal culture is what we should do.
Cory: Yeah.
Amy: Yeah, so you were wrong.
Cory: I have no idea how you come to that conclusion. I think you're not even listening to what I say.
Amy: Ok, do you know what cultural diversity is?
Cory: Yes, but why don't you just tell me to save time since you're going to say my answer is wrong somehow.
Amy: Cultural diversity is...wait, I forgot...no, hang on....just let me think...cultural diversity is...cultural diversity is skinheads.
Cory: Skinheads?
Amy: Yeah.
Cory: "Cultural diversity is skinheads"?
Amy: Something like that.
Cory: Do you know what a skinhead is?
Amy: Nope.
Cory: Ok, I have better things to do. I'm leaving.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Ketchup
My mom made chicken burgers today. I was quite pleased to have supper made for me, so I came upstairs to eat. My brother and my mom were already eating. I sit down and start eating as well.
Amy walks into the kitchen, grabs some food and puts her plate in her spot next to my mom. Then she gets up, and retrieves the ketchup from the fridge. She places it at the end of the table, on the other side of my mom. She then sits down and asks, "Can you pass the ketchup?"
My mom passes it to her and says, "why did put the ketchup over there? Why didn't you just take it to your spot? You're just making more work for everyone. There's no reason for you to do that."
My sister takes the ketchup from my mom, looks her dead in the face and replies, "Do I LOOK like I'm smart?!"
My mom retorts, "Oh, right. What was I thinking?"
Amy walks into the kitchen, grabs some food and puts her plate in her spot next to my mom. Then she gets up, and retrieves the ketchup from the fridge. She places it at the end of the table, on the other side of my mom. She then sits down and asks, "Can you pass the ketchup?"
My mom passes it to her and says, "why did put the ketchup over there? Why didn't you just take it to your spot? You're just making more work for everyone. There's no reason for you to do that."
My sister takes the ketchup from my mom, looks her dead in the face and replies, "Do I LOOK like I'm smart?!"
My mom retorts, "Oh, right. What was I thinking?"
She can't even "interrupt" correctly.
I don't remember what I was doing, but my sister rudely started talking over me and distracting me. I immediately give her a look of "Can't you see I'm busy?!"
Amy: Oh, sorry, I just like to inter..view.
Cory: ...?
Amy: Inter....inter..venous....no....inter...vention? Intervention. Yeah, intervention! I like to just intervention! Or, I mean, 'excuse me while I intervent you.'
Cory: I didn't think you'd figure it, but you proved me wrong. You found the right word in the end. Now stop "interventioning" and leave me alone.
Amy: Oh, sorry, I just like to inter..view.
Cory: ...?
Amy: Inter....inter..venous....no....inter...vention? Intervention. Yeah, intervention! I like to just intervention! Or, I mean, 'excuse me while I intervent you.'
Cory: I didn't think you'd figure it, but you proved me wrong. You found the right word in the end. Now stop "interventioning" and leave me alone.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Diseases
Amy: Mom! I want candy. Buy me candy! Buy it while I'm tanning today.
Mom: No, I'm not buying you candy.
Amy: But you can buy it right next to the tanning place while you wait for me. Just buy me some tanning while I'm candying. Wait! Did you hear what I said? I said tanning while I'm candying. I mixed up my words....You know, sometimes I do that. It's because I have an STD.
Mom: An STD?
Amy: No, not an STD. An STI. Did you know that, Mom? There are no STD's. It's STI. Sexually Transmitted Infection. There's no more diseases. STD's don't exist anymore. Diseases are exincludable.
Mom: Exincludable?
Amy: Yeah, it means you can't catch them anymore.
Mom: No, I'm not buying you candy.
Amy: But you can buy it right next to the tanning place while you wait for me. Just buy me some tanning while I'm candying. Wait! Did you hear what I said? I said tanning while I'm candying. I mixed up my words....You know, sometimes I do that. It's because I have an STD.
Mom: An STD?
Amy: No, not an STD. An STI. Did you know that, Mom? There are no STD's. It's STI. Sexually Transmitted Infection. There's no more diseases. STD's don't exist anymore. Diseases are exincludable.
Mom: Exincludable?
Amy: Yeah, it means you can't catch them anymore.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
From train sounds to dancers
I was walking around my house with a button-up shirt open. My sister saw me and tried to be clever.
Amy: What are you? A cho-cho?
Cory: What? Choo-choo?
Amy: No, like, a cho-cho. You know? A chipmunk!
Cory: Can you describe the relationship between "cho-cho" and "chipmunk"?
Amy: That's what you call it. You know: stripper guys.
Cory: Oh! Chippendale dancers?
Amy: Is that what they're called? I thought it was chipmunk or cho-cho-something.
Cory: I'll bet you did.
Amy: What are you? A cho-cho?
Cory: What? Choo-choo?
Amy: No, like, a cho-cho. You know? A chipmunk!
Cory: Can you describe the relationship between "cho-cho" and "chipmunk"?
Amy: That's what you call it. You know: stripper guys.
Cory: Oh! Chippendale dancers?
Amy: Is that what they're called? I thought it was chipmunk or cho-cho-something.
Cory: I'll bet you did.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Life as a musical
My sister enjoys singing. She also enjoys herself singing. This involves recording herself and playing it back to listen to herself. Her narcissism (which includes ample vanity proven by her attraction to and distraction by reflective surfaces) is mere backstory for this post, and I'm certain you'll see more of it in future posts.
The trouble is that she sings at inappropriate times. Mostly at inappropriate times, it seems to me. If life were truly a musical, perhaps it wouldn't appear so random and socially awkward. Of course, she'd also have to sing songs relevant to the action or dialogue prior. Amy, instead, sings whatever comes to mind.
Her love of her voice also results in her singing unnaturally loud, to the point of it being little more than shouted rhymes.
This story begins at the supper table. My family doesn't often eat together, but this was one of those rare times (a lot of my stories involve my sister and another family member because I don't hang out with her any more than I have to). I was explaining something to my mom, and she was confused and asked what I meant. Then, whether or not she understood, Amy decided to mock my mother's confusion by saying:
Amy: "What are you, retarded? GOD BLESS THE USA!"
The amazing part was how quickly she lost track of what she was doing. The first 4 words came out with disgust and mockery, then without so much as a moment's pause she shouted (yes, shouted...it was barely sung) the last 4 words. I put a question mark to differentiate between the clauses and so that the inflection she put on the first portion sounded like a question, although there was no punctuation in reality. It came out as one sentence, just with a 180-degree turn in her tone (and content).
Even more hilarious is that she decided to question my mom's mental capacity, and ended up provinh how little her own was.
There was no comeback or anything in this case. Our silence and flabbergasted looks were enough for her to know she did something stupid. She reflected for a moment, then burst out laughing.
The trouble is that she sings at inappropriate times. Mostly at inappropriate times, it seems to me. If life were truly a musical, perhaps it wouldn't appear so random and socially awkward. Of course, she'd also have to sing songs relevant to the action or dialogue prior. Amy, instead, sings whatever comes to mind.
Her love of her voice also results in her singing unnaturally loud, to the point of it being little more than shouted rhymes.
This story begins at the supper table. My family doesn't often eat together, but this was one of those rare times (a lot of my stories involve my sister and another family member because I don't hang out with her any more than I have to). I was explaining something to my mom, and she was confused and asked what I meant. Then, whether or not she understood, Amy decided to mock my mother's confusion by saying:
Amy: "What are you, retarded? GOD BLESS THE USA!"
The amazing part was how quickly she lost track of what she was doing. The first 4 words came out with disgust and mockery, then without so much as a moment's pause she shouted (yes, shouted...it was barely sung) the last 4 words. I put a question mark to differentiate between the clauses and so that the inflection she put on the first portion sounded like a question, although there was no punctuation in reality. It came out as one sentence, just with a 180-degree turn in her tone (and content).
Even more hilarious is that she decided to question my mom's mental capacity, and ended up provinh how little her own was.
There was no comeback or anything in this case. Our silence and flabbergasted looks were enough for her to know she did something stupid. She reflected for a moment, then burst out laughing.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Insulting oneself? More difficult than it seems.
I was having a conversation with my mom the other day, when my sister thinks of something irrelevant and stupid, but which she deems valuable input to our conversation and interrupts. I was speaking about my courses at school, when she begins:
Amy: Hey! Guess what?
Mom: Amy, I'm talking to Cory right now. You just wait, ok?
Amy: No, but I have something you need to know.
Mom: Well, tell me later. I'm busy right now.
Amy: I have a stomach behaviour.
I'm interested enough at this alone that I feel it's worth letting her interrupt so I can hear more about whatever nonsense she's thought up.
Me: What?
Amy: No! I mean I DON'T have a stomach behaviour!
Mom: Ok, that's lovely. Is that all?
Cory: So you decided to interrupt me to say that your stomach feels fine? Was it upset earlier or something?
Amy: No, not my stomach. I have a--I DON'T have a stomach behaviour.
Mom: What are you talking about?
Amy: A stomach behaviour. I don't have one.
Cory: What is a stomach behaviour? I have honestly never heard that term before, and I believe that is because you just made it up.
Amy: No, I learned it in school.
Cory: In what class?
Amy: Sociology (pronounce by her as "SO-so-logy"
Cory: You learned about "stomach behaviours" in Sociology?
Amy: Yeah.
Mom: We have no idea what you're talking about. Describe it.
Amy: Ok....it's when...like, when you do stuff and don't want stuff in return.
Cory: You mean "being nice"?
Amy: Yeah, but it's called a stomach behaviour.
Cory: So where do the stomachs come in?
Amy: There's no stomachs. It has nothing to do with stomachs. That's just what it's called. You know!
Cory: No, I do not know.
My mom and I then spent a few minutes trying to think of terms that sounded like "stomach behaviour" that fit Amy's definition. The whole time, Amy continued to elaborate (very poorly) on her definition.
Cory: So, this "stomach behaviour" means you're nice and do things for others?
Amy: Yeah, like, you do stuff and don't expect anything back.
Cory (after a few prior guesses): I sure hope you're not trying to say "altruistic"...
Amy: Wait, what? That might be it!
Cory: Altruistic behaviour?
Amy: Yeah, altrustic.
Cory: Altruistic.
Amy: Alstrustic.
Cory: Stomach behvaiour.
Amy: Yeah, it sounds better, right?
Cory: No. Hang on, didn't you say you didn't have a stomach behvaiour?
Amy: Yeah.
Cory: So you're saying you're non-altruistic?
Amy: Yeah, why would I want to be nice and help people for no reason?
Cory: ...Let me get this straight...you butted into our conversation to announce that you're a dick?
Amy: Yeah, pretty much.
Then she burst out into raucous laughter and walked away.
Amy: Hey! Guess what?
Mom: Amy, I'm talking to Cory right now. You just wait, ok?
Amy: No, but I have something you need to know.
Mom: Well, tell me later. I'm busy right now.
Amy: I have a stomach behaviour.
I'm interested enough at this alone that I feel it's worth letting her interrupt so I can hear more about whatever nonsense she's thought up.
Me: What?
Amy: No! I mean I DON'T have a stomach behaviour!
Mom: Ok, that's lovely. Is that all?
Cory: So you decided to interrupt me to say that your stomach feels fine? Was it upset earlier or something?
Amy: No, not my stomach. I have a--I DON'T have a stomach behaviour.
Mom: What are you talking about?
Amy: A stomach behaviour. I don't have one.
Cory: What is a stomach behaviour? I have honestly never heard that term before, and I believe that is because you just made it up.
Amy: No, I learned it in school.
Cory: In what class?
Amy: Sociology (pronounce by her as "SO-so-logy"
Cory: You learned about "stomach behaviours" in Sociology?
Amy: Yeah.
Mom: We have no idea what you're talking about. Describe it.
Amy: Ok....it's when...like, when you do stuff and don't want stuff in return.
Cory: You mean "being nice"?
Amy: Yeah, but it's called a stomach behaviour.
Cory: So where do the stomachs come in?
Amy: There's no stomachs. It has nothing to do with stomachs. That's just what it's called. You know!
Cory: No, I do not know.
My mom and I then spent a few minutes trying to think of terms that sounded like "stomach behaviour" that fit Amy's definition. The whole time, Amy continued to elaborate (very poorly) on her definition.
Cory: So, this "stomach behaviour" means you're nice and do things for others?
Amy: Yeah, like, you do stuff and don't expect anything back.
Cory (after a few prior guesses): I sure hope you're not trying to say "altruistic"...
Amy: Wait, what? That might be it!
Cory: Altruistic behaviour?
Amy: Yeah, altrustic.
Cory: Altruistic.
Amy: Alstrustic.
Cory: Stomach behvaiour.
Amy: Yeah, it sounds better, right?
Cory: No. Hang on, didn't you say you didn't have a stomach behvaiour?
Amy: Yeah.
Cory: So you're saying you're non-altruistic?
Amy: Yeah, why would I want to be nice and help people for no reason?
Cory: ...Let me get this straight...you butted into our conversation to announce that you're a dick?
Amy: Yeah, pretty much.
Then she burst out into raucous laughter and walked away.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Dementia
I told my sister a ridiculous story about a song she'd never heard before, telling her that it used to be her favourite song when she was younger and how she would always sing it as a child. Her response:
Amy: Oh, really? I don't remember. I guess I have all-timers.
Amy: Oh, really? I don't remember. I guess I have all-timers.
Not-as-willing volunteer has eyes like a cow
I've taken to carrying a pen and paper with me whenever I'm in the vicinity of my sister to quickly jot down the things she says and does to post later on. When I started this blog, I asked for her permission, and she said, "Yeah, but if it gets super popular I want to be famouser than you." I told her she'd definitely get more attention than I provided she continues to say the things she says.
Amy has begun to notice not the stupid things she says, but that I think they're stupid because I pull out my pad of paper after certain back-and-forths. Understanding that she may have said something unwise, she tries to cover it up as I start making notes by saying things like "No, don't write that down. It wasn't funny" or "I was trying to be stupid there for your blog" which is obviously not the case. If she tried to sound stupider, the effort alone of attempting to think before she speaks would still make her sound smarter. But she still says I can post the things she says and does.
I was writing notes earlier, and she was trying to sneak a peek at the paper to see what part of her last statement was so "funny" and she commented on my handwriting:
Amy: Look at your writing! When you write notes fast, I can tell it's your writing.
Me: You can also see me physically writing it, so that's not too impressive.
Amy: But look at your writing! It's so noticeable. I can spot it like a cow.
Me: ...Spot it like a cow? As though you think of cows when you imagine keen vision? But then, again, cows have spots. So I don't know what you mean. It could be just really stupid, or really clever for you because it might have been a legitimate pun.
Amy: Really?
Me: I guess not.
*jots down "spot it like a cow"*
Amy has begun to notice not the stupid things she says, but that I think they're stupid because I pull out my pad of paper after certain back-and-forths. Understanding that she may have said something unwise, she tries to cover it up as I start making notes by saying things like "No, don't write that down. It wasn't funny" or "I was trying to be stupid there for your blog" which is obviously not the case. If she tried to sound stupider, the effort alone of attempting to think before she speaks would still make her sound smarter. But she still says I can post the things she says and does.
I was writing notes earlier, and she was trying to sneak a peek at the paper to see what part of her last statement was so "funny" and she commented on my handwriting:
Amy: Look at your writing! When you write notes fast, I can tell it's your writing.
Me: You can also see me physically writing it, so that's not too impressive.
Amy: But look at your writing! It's so noticeable. I can spot it like a cow.
Me: ...Spot it like a cow? As though you think of cows when you imagine keen vision? But then, again, cows have spots. So I don't know what you mean. It could be just really stupid, or really clever for you because it might have been a legitimate pun.
Amy: Really?
Me: I guess not.
*jots down "spot it like a cow"*
Our home and Native land
Amy had just heard about (and, of course, not fully understood) certain tax breaks for Aboriginals in Canada. Thinking this isn't fair, she tries to beat the system with her world-renowned sound logic.
Amy: So they don't pay tax because this is their home and native land?
Me: I suppose that's it in its simplest form.
Amy: That's not fair.
Cory: That's not our call.
Amy: Let's go to German.
Cory: ...German?
Amy: Yeah, we should all go to German.
Cory: ...
Amy: What?
Cory: You mean Germany?
Amy: I don't know. Is that where Germans come from? That makes sense, though. We should go to German...y.
Cory: Why?
Amy: So we don't have to pay taxes.
Cory: What are you talking about?!
Amy: Because that's our home and native land.
It took me a second to grasp what she was saying. Our ethnic background is half-German, so I believe she thought that if we lived in Germany, we could get the same tax breaks as Aboriginals in Canada. I debated a response to correct her, but I ended up just laughing at her instead.
Amy: So they don't pay tax because this is their home and native land?
Me: I suppose that's it in its simplest form.
Amy: That's not fair.
Cory: That's not our call.
Amy: Let's go to German.
Cory: ...German?
Amy: Yeah, we should all go to German.
Cory: ...
Amy: What?
Cory: You mean Germany?
Amy: I don't know. Is that where Germans come from? That makes sense, though. We should go to German...y.
Cory: Why?
Amy: So we don't have to pay taxes.
Cory: What are you talking about?!
Amy: Because that's our home and native land.
It took me a second to grasp what she was saying. Our ethnic background is half-German, so I believe she thought that if we lived in Germany, we could get the same tax breaks as Aboriginals in Canada. I debated a response to correct her, but I ended up just laughing at her instead.
Some are good, some are bad, some are hilarious
At the breakfast table, for no reason Amy strikes up this conversation:
Amy: Did people smoke lots of weed when you were in school?
Me: Some people did, yeah.
Amy: Oh....because people smoke weed at school still.
Me: I'd be surprised if they didn't.
Amy: It's just weird, you know?
Me: What is? Smoking weed?
Amy: No, that people smoked weed when you were in school, too. That means it was around when you were in school.
*NOTE* My sister and I are 4 years apart in age.
Me: ...you thought it just appeared in the last year or so?
Amy: Well, no, but I mean it wasn't around back when mom was alive.
Simultaneously, my mom (who is alive and was listening in from the other room) and I burst out laughing.
Amy: What? WHAT?! What's so funny? I don't get it! Why are you laughing?!
Me (through laughter): Why do you think we're laughing?
Amy: Because weed is older than mom or something? I don't know....OHH! Weed was around when mom was in school? Then if weed was around back then, that means mom was a hardcore druggie, right?
Amy: Did people smoke lots of weed when you were in school?
Me: Some people did, yeah.
Amy: Oh....because people smoke weed at school still.
Me: I'd be surprised if they didn't.
Amy: It's just weird, you know?
Me: What is? Smoking weed?
Amy: No, that people smoked weed when you were in school, too. That means it was around when you were in school.
*NOTE* My sister and I are 4 years apart in age.
Me: ...you thought it just appeared in the last year or so?
Amy: Well, no, but I mean it wasn't around back when mom was alive.
Simultaneously, my mom (who is alive and was listening in from the other room) and I burst out laughing.
Amy: What? WHAT?! What's so funny? I don't get it! Why are you laughing?!
Me (through laughter): Why do you think we're laughing?
Amy: Because weed is older than mom or something? I don't know....OHH! Weed was around when mom was in school? Then if weed was around back then, that means mom was a hardcore druggie, right?
My sister: the best friend
I walk upstairs to see my sister sitting at the dining room table on the computer. I have a little chat with her (and by little, I mean the size of the words I can use so she'll understand me) when I suddenly hear someone laugh at a joke from the adjacent living room. I look around the corner to see her friend sitting on the couch by herself in the other room. She'd been silent for the last 5 minutes. Curious about what's going, I ask my sister what the two of them are doing in separate rooms being quiet until I show up.
Me: Amy, what are you doing on the computer?
Amy: Stuff.
Me: Right. So why is your friend sitting in the other room by herself?
Amy: Oh, she's taking pictures of me.
Me: No, she's not. She's just sitting there looking bored.
Amy: Well, she was. I'm making her take a lots of pictures of me, then I look at them on the computer. Then I make her take more pictures of me.
Me: That's horrible (then only half-sarcastically): And now, you're probably heavily photoshopping them, then you're going to upload the whole mass of them to Facebook, I'll bet.
Amy (not sarcastic at all): Yeah.
Me: ...
Me: Amy, what are you doing on the computer?
Amy: Stuff.
Me: Right. So why is your friend sitting in the other room by herself?
Amy: Oh, she's taking pictures of me.
Me: No, she's not. She's just sitting there looking bored.
Amy: Well, she was. I'm making her take a lots of pictures of me, then I look at them on the computer. Then I make her take more pictures of me.
Me: That's horrible (then only half-sarcastically): And now, you're probably heavily photoshopping them, then you're going to upload the whole mass of them to Facebook, I'll bet.
Amy (not sarcastic at all): Yeah.
Me: ...
Monday, October 4, 2010
My Sarcasm: The Genius
My sister Amy has an incredible talent of saying and doing the stupidest things. Sometimes she just doesn't think before she speaks, sometimes she doesn't even bother thinking after she speaks, and in both cases, I feel it's my duty to try and teach her by pointing out her mistakes--in the most mockingly way possible. She's now 17 years old (not sarcasm or exaggeration, though you may feel like you'll have to think so to make these stories believable), and after years and years of amazingly confusing and dumb lines she has spewed, I decided I should start to catalog them, and so THIS BLOG IS BORN!
I intend to post every new ridiculous thing she says and does, as well as post nostalgic stories from the even-dumber-days of her chronological childhood (I specify because she remains a child intellectually, as you'll come to see). I will do my best to re-state her words as closely as possible with ideally no paraphrasing, exaggeration, or omissions.
This post being more of a welcome to test the blog-waters, the first story will be in my next post. It shouldn't be long, though; she's a stupid gold mine.
I intend to post every new ridiculous thing she says and does, as well as post nostalgic stories from the even-dumber-days of her chronological childhood (I specify because she remains a child intellectually, as you'll come to see). I will do my best to re-state her words as closely as possible with ideally no paraphrasing, exaggeration, or omissions.
This post being more of a welcome to test the blog-waters, the first story will be in my next post. It shouldn't be long, though; she's a stupid gold mine.
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