A Colorful Sale

, , , , , | | Related | May 25, 2018

It’s a tradition in my family that when a child graduates from high school, their parents get them a nice used car to replace the hand-me-down they drove once they got their license. The complication happened when my sister and I graduated high school: because we are twins and my family was going through move, my parents didn’t get us a car. My sister and I were going to the same college, so we just kept using the same old Jeep. It was a typical first car; the air conditioning sucked and it was pretty old, but it got us from point A to point B so we didn’t complain. My father, though, felt guilty that he wasn’t able to keep up the tradition with us, especially since six years earlier he’d gotten my brother his own car.

We went through college with this Jeep, and every year my father promised that “this will be the year you get your own car.” It didn’t happen, so we kind of just ignored it; the Jeep worked well enough. Still, he constantly tried to figure out the kind of cars we would want, and the color.

My sister and I went to a famous SEC school that had a huge football team in the 90s. Their school colors are orange and white, and I’m his football child. So, when he asked me what color car I wanted, I said, “Believe it or not, I really like that kind of dark orange color.” My dad laughed and said, “Trust me, I’ll never find one in that color.” I laughed, agreed, and said I’d be happy with any color or even just keeping the Jeep. I didn’t care that much.

My sister and I were in our last year of college and I was preparing to apply to masters programs. My father was determined to get us the promised cars, but we honestly didn’t believe him. He had a make and model that he thought I would like, and was looking through used car listings when he saw a picture of one and couldn’t believe it. It was the exact car he wanted to get me in the same dark orange color I’d wanted but didn’t think anyone would find.

He went straight to that dealership, determined to get that very car. He started talking to the salesman and he brought up the color, noting that it probably wasn’t a very popular color, especially in Georgia, where my father was.

The dealer agreed and kept talking about how it was possible to get it repainted, trying to make the color not that big of a deal. My dad kept saying things like, “I really like it; I just don’t know about this color. Orange? In Georgia? I don’t know.”

He wound up getting the sales guy to lower the price a bit more. My dad signed on the dotted line, got into the car, and was ready to drive off. But he couldn’t resist.

He lowered the window to talk to the salesman one last time. “By the way, the car is for my daughter. She goes to [University]. She’s going to love this color.”

He drove away laughing; the sales guy laughed, too. He knew he’d been out negotiated in the funniest way.

I still drive that orange car every day; I love it to death. Thanks, Dad!

You’re In Trouble, No Ifs Or Slapped Butts

, , , , | | Related | May 25, 2018

(I’m at a very popular local event known for its obnoxious drunk patrons. I’ve already dealt with a few uncomfortable situations, so I’ve decided to keep my phone out to record any altercations. I’m standing in line for some food and I feel someone slap my butt, and I hear some very crude remarks and laughter.)

Me: *turning around* “I’m letting you know right now that this is being recorded and… Uncle [Uncle]?”

Uncle: *going pale* “Oh, my God, [My Name]? You, uh, think you could just do me a favor and delete that video?”

Me: “No, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think my father would be very interested in this. See you at Thanksgiving.”

(I did show my family. My uncle and his wife were furious and won’t speak to me now. They didn’t show up for Thanksgiving.)

Words To Live (Long) By

, , , , | | Related | May 24, 2018

(As my grandmother hits her very, very late 90s she becomes frail, and her hearing and eyesight begin to dim. Her speech also gets so slow it almost sounds like she pauses between words. But other than that, she has no outstanding health problems, so she’s doing well. She has just had her 102nd birthday, and we, of course, make sure to visit. Thankfully, her mind is still there.)

Grandmother: *on the topic of her birthday* “People keep asking me what my secret is. I tell them to just keep eating!”

Trash-Talking Your Ex

, , , , , | | Related | May 23, 2018

My parents recently divorced and my mom moved out as a consequence. Both of my parents were pretty down about it and relatively hostile towards each other, which put a lot of strain on me and my siblings.

One day my mom was visiting us children, eating a small snack with us at the table, while my dad was sitting on the sofa a few metres away. I went to the calendar hung on the wall to check for an appointment and realised that my dad had reassigned the row showing my mom’s appointments to instead show when each kind of trash was emptied by the city; however, the top row with her name was written in non-erasable pen.

That seemed like such a typical thing that a divorced couple would do out of spite that I broke down laughing hard, because my dad absolutely didn’t intend it to be malicious; he put it there simply because my mom used to take care of the trash and there was space. Of course my mom came to look at what was so funny and broke down laughing, too.

When my dad walked over, too, she joked about how insulted she was about being used as a trash reminder and he joked back that she deserved it. Consequently, my whole family spent a quarter hour laughing and wheezing on the floor. I think that moment saved our relationship as a family; that day was the first time they had talked with each other in person, not over text or asking us to relay messages. In the following days and weeks they started handling each other with a lot less tension and apologized for putting us between them. I’m very glad for that silly little coincidence.

Just Dandy With The Candy

, , , | | Related | May 23, 2018

(A woman comes into the store with her very curious young daughter, maybe two or three years old. She’s asking what different things are.)

Daughter: “Wah dii?”

Mother: “[Candy #1].”

Daughter: “Wah dah?”

Mother: “[Candy #2]”

Daughter: “Wah dah?”

Mother: “[Candy #3]”

Daughter: “Oh! [Candy #3]! Well! I do not like [Candy #3]!” *pause* “Wah dii?”

(She must have been imitating someone, but to hear a toddler abruptly start enunciating clearly and then go back to baby talk was quite amusing.)

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