This reminds me of my early college days, back when we all worked hard to create clever statuses for AIM. A high school friend had set his to “I’d rather have a sister in a whorehouse than a brother at [his college rival school].” Good times. Good times.

I’m an academic librarian at a small campus. One day, I was in a classroom working with several students on how to format their papers. They would ask a question, I would answer, and they would almost certainly reply “are you sure?” After several iterations of this, I finally replied, “No, they pay me for my…

Whoa, that’s next level rude. My method was devised for interacting with people who aren’t necessarily aware that they’re constantly interrupting. When a person in a position of power does it on purpose with that attitude, this method clearly won’t work. Ouch.

Rather than the silence, I take another approach: I just keep going. One of two things normally happens. 1) They stop and say “What?” and I get to say “well, I was trying to say...” and they realize they interrupted. 2) They say something like “if you’d let me finish” and I get to point out that actually I was…

I know this is over and I’m in the greys but I still have to share:

On my first ever flight, age 25, my husband and I flew Spirit. The flight was incredibly cheap, less than $50 for both of us round-trip. The flight attendant came around to take our orders. I asked for Moscato in a can. I was obviously terrified and wanted a drink to calm my nerves but was more interested in the idea…

In 2009, he told Ellen that she had dedicated it to him “recently”, so that’s probably how the rumor got started. However, the song was released in 1989, and she and John Stamos didn’t date until the early 1990s. I kind of doubt it’s real.

“Not my job” is such a Western concept, or maybe specifically American. I’m in an education program, and we had a few chapters on non-Western education. For most of history and still throughout much of the world, education was everyone’s job. Teaching other people was part of the social contract inherent to living in…

I took my husband’s last name after a few years of grappling with the decision. (Ultimately, I don’t feel connected to my birth name because the man who gave it to me left my life soon after to have another family, and also now my first and last names are the same length and are alliterative.) The problem is that…

It was, but my parents managed to find a new house not even a mile a way, so there was no massive relocation, job search, or new school. I was too young to remember or understand how frantic they must have been, and fortunately they joke about it now. They own the home they currently live in; when they go on vacation…

One of my closest friends in high school was mixed. Her mom was Native American, and her father was African American. One day at the end of band camp, I said, “Wow, you look really dark!” commenting on the tan she had gotten after 8+ hours in the sun. It’s the kind of thing teenage girls say to each other after…

My mortified story comes from my early college years and involves my mother-in-law. At the time, she was just my boyfriend’s mom, though.

My parents and I once came home from a family vacation to find a “For Sale” sign in the front yard of the house my parents had been renting for years. Our landlord—who was a slightly distant relative—had decided to sell the house and thought it would be a fine time to start the process because we were out of town. We…

When I was in high school, my mom used to tell me that “Jesus is watching.” Going on a date? Jesus is watching. Having a boy over to the house? Jesus is watching. After a while, I guess my mom didn’t think that was enough, so she upped the ante to “Jesus is watching, and if you do anything you shouldn’t, he’ll tell…

I was wearing a turtleneck sweater and slacks the first time a state legislator offered an inappropriate comment about me. He said it about me, pointing, but to his fellow male legislators, who chuckled awkwardly. A few shot me a that “I’m so sorry” look, but no one called him out.

When I had long hair, there’s no way I would have left it down in the gym. I even started wearing a bun after too many times of getting my ponytail stuck under the bar doing squats.

I prefer “hakuna your tatas.”

I am so, so sorry this happened to you. When I was a teenager, my boyfriend-at-the-time sexually assaulted me. I tried to tell my mom about it, and she kept asking me questions suggesting I must have done something to lead him on because he was such a nice boy.

That is the kind of mom I have. She was always involved in my life (president of PTA, homeroom mom, etc.), but she didn’t insert herself into my social circle. She was cool because she accepted the (safe and legal) things we were going to do as kids/teens, made us comfortable, and was available if anyone needed help…

Even with my friends, I say “I’m going to hug you now, okay?” and wait for response before going in for a hug. If they seem like they aren’t in a place for a hug (being upset in some way), I ask “would you like a hug?” and respect if it’s a no. And those are my friends!