My dad listens to talk radio in the car, on our way back from the Portguese American club, where he goes on a regular basis, despite not being of Portugese descent.
Racist White Lady: I want to thank you and ICE for your service protecting our fine country from terrorists. The illegals keep killing people. And there are no reprecussions for them. They just go to to sanctuary cities, and hide, like cowards.
Me: That's not the way sanctuary cities work. If you commit a crime: murder, embezzlement, drunk driving, illegal gambling, you still go to jail, or get deported. You just don't get arrested for existing.
My Dad: I want to hear what she has to say.
RWL: All our money goes to paying for illegals to get health insurance and drivers licenses. Meanwhile, all our homeless veterans are freezing to death on the streets.
Me: This lady should start volunterring at homeless shelters. Maybe donate some money to some veterans' institutions. No one is stopping her from supporting our homeless veterans but herself.
Dad: But our money keeps going to help illegals.
Me: No. Our money keeps going to Jeff Bezos and Zuckerberg, and Trump, and all of those other people who don't pay their employees health insurance or a living wage. Who stiff the people like you and me, who actually work for a living, so that they can afford to play golf on one of the courses attached to one of the dozen hotels they own.
Dad: That's captalism.
Me: IT DOESN'T WORK. I work thirty-five hours a week for a guy that doesn't pay my health insurance, and who owes me seven and a half months of back pay. Capitalism sucks.
Dad: Why don't you work 40 hours a week?
Me: Because the people who own businesses schedule people so that they don't have to pay their health care, because they're greedy shitheads who can't actually afford to support their business while also living the lifestyle they think they've earned.
Dad: But why should my money --
Me: NO ONE WANTS YOUR MONEY. You're not wealthy. Trump has never climbed a telephone pole to restore electricity. Rush Limbaugh has never spent an hour trying to help a depressed mom find a cheap graphic novel to help her son learn to love reading. Tucker fucken Carlson has never volunteered his time for Big Brothers/ Big Sisters Of America. They SUCK. They don't care about you or your money unless it's going to them, personally. They hate you. They hate me. They even hate my boss. Why do you keep listening to a bunch of White Nationalist Assholes who want you dead?
Dad: We can agree to disagree.
Me: No. You are protecting the people who steal from you, and redirecting your anger at people that they are trying to murder. This isn't "which type of music do you like?" The people you're listening to for life lessons are actively starting a class and race war against the people who would actually help you if you were in trouble. If you're tied to a railroad track, and a train is coming, who do you think is going to help you? A person who, like your great-grandparents, came over to this counyry to escape terrorists and poverty, or a smug, shitbag in a bowtie who tells you all Mexicans are drug dealing rapists?
Dad: Why do we argue about this every time we get in the car?
Me: Because you don't listen to music anymore, you listen to wealthy white guys who've never worked a day in their lives, who try to tell you that people who work 40-60 hours a week for a non-liveable wage are somehow the enemy just because they didn't wait twenty years to get a bunch of paperwork signed by the same people exploiting them for work by not paying them enough!
Dad: Can we agree that religion is our enemy?
Me: YES. But note how all those Christians that you don't like are supporting the media and President that you support. Isn't that, like A Giant Red Flag to you that these people are full of shit?
My dad turn the radio to the oldies station.
Last Person I Was In A Relationship With: Same jobs. Same poetry routines. Is there anything new at all with you?
Me: Actually, I've been seeing someone for a few weeks now. I would invite you to hang out with us, but we're really gross. Not, like, saccharine nicknames and matching clothes gross, just constant eyefucking, and when we're not hanging all over each other, you can tell we're thinking about it.
LPIWIARW: Yuck. Love sounds awful.
Me: It's actually pretty great.
LPIWIARW: Well, I guess you deserve it, what with the whole coming back from the dead thing. Eventually you were bound to find someone you love who actually felt the same way.
Me: WE DATED FOR A YEAR.
LPIWIARW: Did we, though?
Me: You moved into my apartment. Twice!
LPIWARW: I didn't have anywhere else to go. I'm an awful person. I assumed that's why you were attracted to me.
Me: It sounds like your therapy is going well.
Last night's featured performer did a poem about former roommates who left their sex toys in their shared shower.
After the poem was over, I leaned over to Comrade. "One of my terrible ex-roommates used to leave their dildos in the shower all the time. So I used to drown their dildos in shampoo."
Comrade looks appalled. "Adam. Don't you know how much that would hurt?"
Me: "Oh, I would then aim the shower head to rinse the shampoo off. I wanted them to notice the clean smell, so that they would realize that I had noticed their dildos were in the shower, and that I thought they were filthy. I would never want them to feel shampoo burn in their sensitive area."
Comrade: "Ok. Whew."
Me: "Not when I had that whole kitchen cabinet worth of ghost peppers to rub on them."
Harvard Student 1: Look at those cute little rabbits!
Me: (looks at what are, by Cambridge standards, two adorable rats)
Harvard Student 2: I've never seen rabbits with ears that short before.
Harvard Student 1: Or such long tails.
Harvard Student 2: I'm going to look them up on Wikipedia.
Sadly, my bus was coming, and I missed what, I'm sure, was their fascinating realization.
Comrade at 1:45: "I'm tired. We should crash."
Me: "We can't crash until 2:30."
Me: "Don't ask. Let's just watch another episode of Brooklyn 99."
At 2:15, Motherfucker jumps on the bed and curls up on my leg.
Comrade: "Did your cat just sigh?"
Selina: "GUESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WHAT I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE?"
Me: "Shut up, Selina."
Selina: "HERE'S A CLUE! YOU WEAR ONE ON YOUR FEET IN THE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME."
Comrade: "Is that my sock?"
Me: "Let her have it. It used to be a ball, but Goose destroyed that. Then it was one of my socks, until I hid them all in the drawer. Then she started bringing me the paper towel roll. It will always be something."
Comrade: "Every night?"
Me: "At precisely 2:15. And if I close the door, she won't stop until I open the door. And if I try playing with her at 1:45, she'lll run away and hide. And if I pick her up at 2:00 and keep her trapped in a cuddle, she waits until I fall asleep and then announces whatever it is she can get her paws on, the moment she riggles free. "
Selina: "IT'S A SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK."
Comrade: "Has she always done this?"
Me: "No. I've had this cat for ten years. She's always been loud, but she didn't start having such a rigid play schedule until I moved into this place."
Comrade: "You should move again. And maybe leave her behind."
Selina: "I'LL ALWAYS FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND YOU LIKE I FOUND THIS SOCK!"
Comrade: "How long does she --"
Me: "She's got one more meow and then she'll go hang out in the window."
Selina: "I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE THE WINDOW. I'M GONNA GO IN THE WINDOW NOW!"
Motherfucker loudly exhales.
Me: "Ok. Now we can go to sleep."
Comrade: Anything else I should get at the grocery store?
Me: Apples, romaine lettuce, smooth peanut butter. (Some jerk accidentally bought chunky peanut butter a few weeks ago.)
Comrade: I love chunky peanut butter.
Me: Good News! There is a tubby coyote butt in the kitchen.
Me: Tub of chunky peanut butter in the kitchen. No coyote parts. My phone is in a surrealist phase.
Comrade: I can't IMAGINE where it gets that from.
Selina: YO HOMOS.
Me: Shut up, Selina.
Selina: WHAT YOU'RE DOING IS AGAINST GOD.
Me: Cat, what's your problem?
Selina: IT'S ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND COMRADE.
Me: You're the worst.
Comrade: I don't think you know what she's saying.
Selina: YOU CONSISTENTLY DATE LOSERS, YOU KNOW THAT?
Me: Wow. You are Awful tonight.
Comrade: What did she call me?
Me: Butt pirate.
Comrade: I was defending you, you little Shit Ostrich.
Selina: MRRRRRRRRREOWR MREOWWWWWWWWWWWWR. MREOWR.
Comrade: You didn't tell me she was homophobic.
Selina: MREEEEOWR MROWR MREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOWR.
Comrade: You. Are. A. Monster.
Comrade: Why is your cat so homophobic, anyway?
Me: She's an evanjellicle.
Comrade: "I know two things about sloths. And one of them is a lie. Either, their metabolism is so slow that they only poop between once a week and once a month, and when they do, its the time they are most vulnerable to predators. Or, their brains move so slowly that they sometimes mistake their arms for a tree branch."
Me: "So the fastest a sloth ever moves is when it's plunging to its death?"
Comrade: "I'm pretty sure the metabolism thing is the truth."
Me: "Yea. The tree branch one is a Douglas Adams joke."
Comrade: "Why do you know that?"
Me: "I know one thing about sloths, and it's that Douglas Adams is a jerk."
During a discussion about how being half-assed is only acceptable if it results in a zonkey:
Comrade: Mules don't cut it.
Me: Mules are the ostriches of horses.
Comrade: Or Canada Geese.
Me: Canada Geese are The Worst. If we're going to be a country of racists who build a border wall, it should be to keep out Canada Geese.
Comrade: That would have to be a very tall wall, and I doubt we could get the geese to pay for it.
Me: Tax. The. Swans
Me: I don't want to jinx us, but ever since you showed up, my cat has stopped being annoying.
Comrade: I'm sorry. Are we dating? Or am I your tawdry cat whisperer?
There are scratching sounds from my drawer.
Comrade: Which one is that?
Me: Curse word bird with a weird neck.
Comrade: Shit Ostrich?
Me: That is definitely her name from now on.
Selina: MY NAME IS NOT SHIT OSTRICH!
Me & Comrade: SHUT UP SHIT OSTRICH!
Shit Ostrich has been quiet ever since.
Me: I'm pretty exhausted. Maybe I'll put on the ship reveal scene from Star Trek The Motion Picture. That should put me to sleep.
Comrade: Aren't you worried you'll fall into another coma?