Xavier: “I don’t remember this movie being so rapey.”
Liam: “Um, yeah…there are consent issues all over this thing.”
Xavier: “It’s like they think setting sexual assault to song makes it allowable.”
Liam: “Seriously, this is just a bunch of hillbillies kidnapping women they can’t have, only instead of a cargo van, they have a horses and a wagon.”
Me: “Well…so much for family movie night.”
***Seriously though…glad the consent conversations seem to be paying off.***
Unfortunately, there are very few readily available books on Erwin Rommel, my son’s assigned topic for 8th grade History. The “book” I ordered on Amazon came today, and it was a whopping 30 pages in large font, claiming to give his full history from birth to death. Bullshit. It’s being returned.
Me: “Will you look at this!? How are they selling this as a ‘book’!?”
Xavier: “What is it?”
Me: “It’s what I bought for Liam to do his report!”
Xavier: “That’s way too small to be a book.”
Me: “It’s a pamphlet!”
Xavier: “It’s like a children’s book…but with Nazis.”
Less than 24 hours after returning from a quick romantic weekend, my dearest darling, Ryan, was felled by an intestinal flu, so he’s been concerned that he might have given it to me.
Ryan: How are you feeling? Still okay?
Me: Are you texting to check on the state of my bowels?
Ryan: Yeah, I guess I am.
Me: In the immortal words of Ashford and Simpson…still Solid As a Rock.
Ryan: I’m thinking more fiber for you.
My sons’ Spanish teacher has apparently given up, and the curriculum now solely consists of them watching Spanish soap operas.
Xavier: “None of us understand enough Spanish, so it’s just a bunch of gibberish, and then a dog runs away, and someone has an affair.”
Liam: “Don’t forget about the ghosts.”
Xavier: “Oh, yeah…and there are ghosts.”
Tracy: “Are you going to Kim’s baby shower tomorrow?”
Me: “Ugh…you know how much I hate those things. I’ll just send her a gift.”
Tracy: “What possible excuse are you going to have to skip this?”
Me: “I just had a colonoscopy. I’m pulling the colonoscopy card.”
Tracy: “I don’t think that’s a card.”
Me: “I had a camera shoved up my ass…how does that NOT earn me a card?”
Tracy: “Fine, but you have to tell her, because I’m not walking into a baby shower with tales about your asshole.”
Me: “A real friend would.”
Tracy: “A real friend doesn’t text pictures of their large intestine to a group chat.”
Me: “Touche.”
(Whilst watching a cable news channel…)
Me: “Jesus, every other ad is for erection drugs.”
Xavier: “Let’s please not.”
Me: “I’m going to start calling this ‘the boner channel’.”
Xavier: “Please don’t do that either.
Me: “Boner.”
Xavier: “You’re the worst.”
Yes, yes, I know…two posts in a row about fucking novelty bedding. It also should be noted that my sweet, brilliant, rational boyfriend goes completely ape-shit nerd when discussing some sort of controversy regarding whether Han Solo or Greedo shot first in the original movies. It has come up roughly three million times.
Me: Liam is spending his first night in his new Star Wars sheets.
Ryan: Do they make those for a queen-sized bed? I’m asking for a friend.
Me: Yes, but would you really be comfortable getting off in front of Han?
Ryan: It’ll be the first time he didn’t shoot first.
Me: Fine, but if you start making ‘pew pew’ noises during climax, I’m going to be super put off.
Ryan: ..
Me: You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?
Ryan: Maaaaaaybe?
Me: “Did Grandma order you your new sheets?”
Liam: “Yes, I got Star Wars ones!”
Me: “Okay…well…I guess that’s okay. It’s probably the last time you can get something like that, so you might as well enjoy it.”
Liam: “What do you mean the last time?”
Me: “Honey, you’re 14, you’re probably never going to have this opportunity to get fun sheets again.”
Liam: “Mother, I think you’re grossly underestimating the kind of adult I plan on becoming.”
Student: “Are you wearing green because it’s St. Patrick’s Day?”
Me: “Yup.”
Student: “What does the green stand for?”
Me: “Avarice, envy, and gangrene.”
Student: “Huh?”
Me: “The beautiful, rolling green hills of Ireland.”
Student: “Oh.”
YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER!!!
Caolinn: “I love Neil deGrasse Tyson. If I could choose anyone to be my father…it would totally be Neil deGrasse Tyson.”
Me: (murmuring) “If I could choose anyone to be your father, I’d pick Neil deGrasse Tyson, too.”
Caolinn: “Ummm, you COULD HAVE chosen anyone…and we know how THAT turned out.”
Fisticuffs and Shenanigans 