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Posts Tagged ‘Disorders’

Dear Judging Community:

My son (15) has few responsibilities around the place he shares with me, his father and brother (13):

  1. Keep up with schoolwork.
  2. Take out the trash and recycling.
  3. Keep his room clean.

In return, we don’t harass him, and we give him an allowance.

As he is a 15-year-old boy, you can imagine he is not holding up his end of the bargain.

It’s No. 3 that’s really bothering me at the moment.

Y’all, look:

Those are clean clothes that have been on the floor for more than two weeks.

Well, they aren’t clean anymore, of course.

I know they WERE clean because I dried and folded them.

Lest you thing I regularly do his laundry, let me explain: He put his clothes in the wash, then “forgot” about them. I needed to do laundry, so I finished them up.

I see now I should have just put them in the trash.

We’ve had numerous arguments about this.

He says it’s his room, and he will clean it up when he’s ready.

I say it’s slovenly behavior, and he never should have let it get like this. But as he did, he should clean it up. Now.

So Community, AITA for expecting him to keep his room clean?

Before you answer, one more thing I need to tell you.

He asked for a few of my Oreos, then ate the entire package without a word to me. I found the empty package in the trash.

So. AITA?

Thanks for weighing in,
Beth

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Hey Everybody!

Some days, the only thing keeping me going, joy-wise, is AITA on Reddit via Twitter.

Lingo to know:
AITA=Am I the Asshole?
OP=Original Poster
NTA=Not the Asshole
YTA=You’re the Asshole
TA=The Asshole (duh!)
ESH=Everyone Sucks Here
NAH=No Assholes Here
INFO=Not Enough Information

I go for the posts and stay for the comments. (Hats off to @WholeManDispose EVERY TIME!)

Anyway, let’s play a Coronacation game.

Here’s a multiple-choice quiz based on recent submissions. One rule: Make your guesses before checking out the feed. Answers below.

1. An OP complained about his wife sticking her hands down her pants at the dinner table. What was she doing?
A. Fixing her underwear.
B. Trying to be sexy.
C. Checking to see if it was her time of the month.

2. Are any of these appropriate at the dinner table?
A. Yes, OP is TA.
B. No, OP is NTA.

3. In a post just two days later, a different OP complained about his girlfriend bleeding all over their sheets during her time of the month. Why did this happen?
A. She didn’t realize she could still have periods.
B. He refused to buy her sanitary products at the store.
C. She didn’t feel like getting up to get a pad.

4. An OP complained about her husband refusing to name their soon-to-be-born son a family name (first-born son tradition for more than 100 years) so she wouldn’t be disinherited. What was the name?
A. Adolph
B. Gaylord
C. Stacey

5. In No. 4, the community determined what?
A. OP is TA and will scar her child for life.
B. OP is NTA and family traditions are important. Also, money.
C. ESH.

6. There is a follow-up post to No. 4 from the OP regarding the impending divorce.*
A. True
B. False

7. An OP, a nurse who leaves the house to work, complained that her husband, a lawyer who works from home, didn’t help her 8-year-old son find his dog while she was at work. What was he doing?
A. Cheating on her.
B. Taking care of their six-month-old daughter.
C. Playing Xbox.

8. An OP is mad that his girlfriend didn’t do what during the pandemic?
A. Organize her bedroom just like his.
B. Text him back after he texted her 31 times.
C. Come live with him instead of her parents.

9. An OP asked if he is TA for secretly getting a paternity test on his son. Why?
A. OP is white and his wife is black. His son is darker than his daughter.
B. OP thinks his wife cheated on him.
C. OP had a vasectomy, so therefore knows B.

10. An OP wants to know if she is TA for telling her stepdaughter not to switch out the food for OP’s cat, Mango, for what?
A. Human food.
B. Generic dry cat food.
C. A vegan diet.

Bonus point!
11. An OP is bewildered that the community determined that he is TA for what behavior?
A. Trashing his son and daughter-in-law on Facebook for lying about going to the in-laws’ house for Mother’s Day.
B. Being such a jerk that his son felt he had to lie about his whereabouts.
C. Doubling down on his actions in the post after the community weighed in.
D. All of the above

 

Answers:
1-C
2-B
3-C
4-B
5-A
6-A
7-C
8-A
9-A
10-C
11-D

* An update to the update: OP now claims it was all made up. Eh. Who cares? We’re all bored.
 

 

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Dear Boys of Mine (all three),

Thank you for making this Mother’s Day the best ever. For real.

You know last year I wasn’t happy at all. It was not because you didn’t do the “right” thing. It was because you didn’t do anything on the day at all.

But this year, you made it right, and then some.

First, breakfast in bed with a side of “Hoarders” on the TV (you know how I feel about that show).

Then a treasure hunt with gifts, including my new food obsession: Flamin’ hot popcorn. (No surprise there, I’m sure.)

The hunt culminated in a homemade movie that made me cry. Twice.

Finally? Lunch based on a tomato soup commercial I saw yesterday. (You know the one: It features grilled cheese.)

So thank you for making me feel loved.

I love you too.
Mama

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Dear Readers:

Many of you know someone who has or had the ‘Rona. I do too: Simon, lead singer and guitarist for Jesse’s Divide (a band I’ve mentioned too many times to count). He is finally on the mend, and he agreed to write about his experience (you know I love a good guest post). He thinks he got it during a visit to the grocery store. Here’s his story.

Stay healthy and active,
Beth

Simon (top right) chats with Rob (top left) and Nick (bottom) — the other members of Jesse’s Divide — while all are in captivity, and Simon is on the mend.

Hi Beth!

You asked me to describe to you my recent setback, as though you take a great interest in my pain. (Note from Beth to Simon: I wouldn’t say I’m interested in your pain. I’m interested in your story. I’m a journalist!)

I woke on Monday (April 6) feeling okay, but as the day went on, I started to develop hangover-type symptoms: light headache and a pain behind the eyes. Thought nothing more of it, and carried on as normal. That evening was when things took a turn. I started with a high temperature. My head was hot, my body was cold, and I was sweating and shaking constantly. I had no idea what was going on because I thought – “I don’t get ill; I’m too healthy.” (Note from Beth: Simon is vegan but could live on Oreos, apparently.)

Tuesday morning, I woke up looking as though I’d just stepped out of a swimming pool. Again, hot head, cold body, dripping in sweat. Decide to have a shower. As I clean the assets, I go lightheaded, lose my breath and collapse. I have to bang on the bath for someone; I can’t shout because I can’t catch my breath. My chest is tight and I’m like Miles Dyson during his death scene in “Terminator 2,” only holding a showerhead, not a detonator. Fortunately, my wife Aimee hears me and helps me out.

The day continues with an unbelievable headache (the worst I have ever had; it was like someone had inflated my head to bursting point, and people were screaming behind my eyes), shortness of breath, intermittent cough, and hot and cold sweats.

These symptoms didn’t ease off until Sunday, when I started to breathe normally again. Around Thursday I was forced to take some paracetamol. My wife, my mother and a doctor friend all insisted I had to. I’m stubborn when it comes to medication, but this really helped me to get back on my feet, and I should have listened to them sooner. (Note from Beth to Simon: YES. Remember this later.)

Now, the added bonuses: My dreams were messed up. I was in the “Tiger King” documentary at least twice, and a reccurring dream was of me situated in a familiar black void next to a house-sized steel-pressing machine. The machine would press and laser-cut bits of steel and throw them out to me. All these pieces would mould (Note from Beth: “Mold” for the Americans.) into each other through a portal containing a world of jigsaw-style steel parts. This happened every night.

Another joy of this was that I couldn’t keep down large quantities of water. If I had more than half a small glass, I’d have the runs! (Note from Beth: Delightful!)

ANNNNNNND, aside from my head, do you know what was the most painful part of my body through all this? My hips. MY HIPS! I mean – how?!?! I had to rub tiger balm on them every night. (Note from Beth: Tiger balm = Tiger King dreams.)

With a family around me and two young kids, I had to isolate from everyone and Aimee was following me around with disinfectant spray! (Note from Beth: I totally get it.) I couldn’t hold or go near my wife and kids for 12 days. That was unbelievably difficult.

So that’s my fight with the virus. By far the most debilitating thing I’ve been through. I’m on something like Day 13 now, and I’m still dizzy with a tight chest. The headache has gone, and I can walk about again!

I consider myself healthy, and I very rarely get ill, so I thought, I’m very unlikely to be affected by this.

Boy, was I wrong! It’s not something I’d wish on someone, but I’m grateful now that perhaps I’m somewhat immune. I have felt how it impacts the body, and for those in a more vulnerable physical position than me, it’s clear to see how it can take lives.

Please stay safe. Don’t be dicks.
Simon

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Y’all:

I’m losing it.

I’m losing my mind.

I don’t know what day it is. Most of the time I can’t remember what month it is.

I used the wrong version of your/you’re in a text. I corrected myself before sending, but still.

It’s that bad.

I’ve finished Netflix. All of it.

I don’t want to watch TV anymore.

I don’t want to read.

I don’t want to cook; I’ve made enough food to feed everyone within a five-mile radius.

Now I’m setting goals that seem unusual even for me.

Look:

  • Finish my Greatest Boy Band Songs Ever playlist.
  • Make sure it features no more than two songs per band and is in chronological order by band.
  • Learn the choreography to “Bye Bye Bye.”
  • Wonder what happened to Color Me Badd.
  • Do some actual research and discover some shocking behavior on the part of the worse-for-wear Bryan K. Abrams.
  • Google the zodiac sign for Micky Dolenz. (He’s a Pisces. Of course.)
  • Make an exception to Point 2 for One Direction because Harry Styles.
  • Write a fan letter to Harry Styles.
  • Cut off some of my hair to send to Harry Styles.
  • Consider therapy to identify why I would do either of the two things above.
  • Consider therapy to identify why I would do any of the things on this list, really.
MmmHMMM. Call me, Harry.

Dear GOD. Who am I?

Send help.

Sincerely,
Beth, owner of a jello mind

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Dear Reckitt Benckiser:

I really wish I had Loefflered up and bought your stock before Coronavirus came calling.

But I never felt the need to bathe in Lysol before.

Look. Listen. You can’t be too careful.

I’ve created an airlock downstairs. Everything coming into the house gets wiped down or sprayed.

The mail too.

Everything.

Even people.

Dominic came in after work. (Yes, he has a job at Publix. No, I’m not thrilled he is going. He informed me he needs the money to hang out “wit da boys.” He means online via Doom.)

Me (from the couch): Did you spray yourself?
Him (sighing): Yes.
Me: Even your back?
(Sound of a little baby spray)

So we are going through plenty of your product. And there is a shortage. You are aware. We all are aware.

I’m waiting patiently, but my supply can’t last forever, even though it seems like this pandemic will.

Wishing you a speedy resupplying process.

Your sanitizing sentry,
Beth

 

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Dear Dominic,

Please go outside, even if it is just on the porch. Or open your window. You need fresh air.

Your room is hot and smells like a hamster cage.

You haven’t worn a shirt in days.

Your posture is so awful that you look like a question mark.

You eat like a wild animal — a wild animal who only eats Pop-Tarts.

What’s worse is that you want to eat like this on my new desk: the kitchen table.

If this is what you’ve become in just a couple of weeks into confinement, I shudder to think what you will look like in a couple of months.

Please don’t turn feral.

I love you,
Mama

* Thanks, Nirvana.

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