Failure to Communicate #1

I just worked 40 hours in two days.  While this isn't unusual, it leads to conversations like this.

Boyfriend: 'I unplugged the toilet.'

O.o ????

The toilet has no electrics.  We live in a rental, why did you remove the toilet from the wall?! I'm having visions of grey water all over our second floor apartment, and he's sitting watching anime perfectly calmly.  I start having a babbling, confused fit.

He watches, face ever so carefully neutral, eyes shining. 'The toilet was clogged.  I unplugged it.'

OH. RIGHT.  When overtired, I forget that many words have more than one meaning.

I go to make use of our pristine, functioning bathroom, gales of laughter following in my wake.

'My girl is special.'

Yup.  That's me.  'Special' is a great word.  So many inferences.

I'm just glad the toilet works.

The only funny story mentioning Auschwitz that I know

A friend of mine's grandmother is a survivor.  She's an amazing, tough little lady.

Who is not very fond of her son in law.  He complains, often, about anything you could imagine.

When he complains, she often compares the minor troubles of making a life in the US to the hardships she went through, indicating that he should probably man up and deal.

One day, he had the following outburst.

"Auschwitz, Auschwitz, Auschwitz!  I get it already!  Just because it's not as bad, doesn't mean our problems aren't real.  I'm sick of hearing about the damned camp!"

She drew herself up to her entire four foot nine frame, wagged a bony finger in his face and said: 'I survived Auschwitz.  I survived torture.  I survived starvation."

"But I ain't gonna survive YOU!"

Best argument ender EVER.

More 'stranger than fiction' - true stories from my otherwise boring life

Since people seemed to enjoy my Jack Sparrow fistfight story so much, I figured I'd start sharing a few more 'gems'.


This is an oldie.

When I was a kid, my parents (specifically my mom) were travelling artisans. Mostly renaissance festivals, to be specific.

We trekked down to Florida one year to participate in a show at Vizcaya in Dade county. If you ever get a chance to visit, go. The show was a bust, but the scenery is breathtaking, and it was worth the trip just for that.

Anyway, you're here for a story, not a travelogue.

Another artisan that we knew, let's call him Fred for the sake of protecting the innocent, was also there. Fred was a super fun guy, as long as you took his pathological lying with a large grain of salt. He always had entertaining stories and a gift for telling them.

One morning, Fred runs into our booth. He points toward the ocean, which we were set up next to.

"You wouldn't believe what I just saw!" Generally, no.

"An 80 year old Elvis impersonator playing The Cars on a Mandolin!"

Say what?

As we're trying to parse that statement into something that makes sense, the gentleman in question walks up the marble stairs from the water into our view. All activity ceased for a moment, as we stared in shock and admiration. That little old man wearing a spangled jumpsuit and playing for all he was worth will be embedded in my mind forever.

You go, mandolin Elvis.