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.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
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.
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