Number 1
My daughter Elvira, talking about a recent blog post: One of those was about me, wasn't it? Which one was it? I know one of them had to be about me.
Me: I said right in the post they probably weren't about anybody who would be reading it, didn't I?
Elvira: Yeah, whatever. Which one is about me? It's number 1, isn't it? That one's for me.
Me: No, not really. But how about 10 and 11? 10 and 11 can be about you.
Elvira: Yes, but number 1 seems like it fits me better.
Me: OK. Number 1 can be about you if you want. The truth is I wrote one to you, and then I deleted it.
Elvira: Why would you delete mine? Was it bad?
Me: I deleted it because 10 and 11 can be about you. I didn't want to write you an anonymous comment about ..... something.
Elvira: Oh my god. I know what you wrote about.
Me: I don't think it does any good to guess ....
Elvira: You wrote about my eyebrows, didn't you? You were going to send me an anonymous message about my eyebrows.
Me: Your eyebrows? No, I .... why would I write about your eyebrows?
Elvira: I know that's it. What else could it be? It has to be about my eyebrows.
Me: I'm dumbfounded that you think I would blog about your eyebrows.
Elvira: You're always saying I over-pluck them and the other day you said they looked like plastic because I've been drawing them on with a Sharpie. That has to be what you wrote about.
Me: Yeah, OK. You're right. I wrote about your eyebrows and then decided it was too personal and passive aggressive to say something like that on my blog.
Elvira: I knew it.
Number 2
Elvira, picking up a white card from my dresser: What's this?
Me: What's what?
Elvira: This card ... Oh my god! Mommers! What the hell is this?
Me, finally looking: Oh, that. It fell out of my bra last night when I was getting undressed after the wrap party for that horror short I produced, Medicine. I still haven't figured out why I didn't feel it in there before I ....
Elvira: Mommers! Even for you this is kind of shocking. How did this get into your bra?
Me: Well, we were playing Cards Against Humanity ....
Elvira: What kind of game is that? Is that a sex game? Were you at an orgy?
Me: It's a card game. Look on the other side. We were playing Cards Aga ...
Elvira, turning the card over: Oh, I see. Nevermind. I don't think I want to know.
Me: It wasn't anything like you .....
Elvira: Nope. Doesn't matter. Next subject. Can I borrow this lipstick?
Me: I need to return that card to its owner.
Elvira: I said I don't want to know. I'm taking this lipstick.
Number 3
Elvira's beloved, Rock Dad, agree to play lead guitar with Joe and another bass player and me at church a couple of weeks ago for a big service. He shows up at my house for practice with a sweet red Gibson SG. (My dream guitar.)
Me: Where did you get that SG? Is that for me?
Rock Dad: No, this is mine. I got it for me.
Me: If I can't afford an SG, you certainly can't. You borrowed it from the store, didn't you? (He works part-time in a guitar store.)
Rock Dad: No, really, it's mine. I bought it from a junkie down in the Oregon District.
Me: How much? Can I buy it from you? You know that's my dream guitar, right?
Rock Dad: I paid him $10, and no, you can't buy it from me. I'm keeping it.
Joe: No way! I can't believe you paid $10 for any Gibson. You bought it from a junkie?
Rock Dad: Yeah, he said he needed money, and I said I'd give him $7. He took it.
Me: You paid $10 for a Gibson SG, and you're not going to give it to me? What kind of son-in-law are you going to be? That's just wrong. I rescind your invitation to Christmas.
Rock Dad: I really paid $7 for it, but I had to do some work on it so it came to $10.
Me: You don't want an SG, and I do. How about I trade you my Fender Strat? The pickup is broken on your Strat, and mine is perfect. That's fair. Back me up here, Joe.
Joe: I'm not getting into that, but that's an amazing deal on that guitar.
Rock Dad: I don't want your Strat. I just ordered a better pickup for my Strat.
Me: So you don't even need that guitar. You're going to be playing your Strat all the time. Plllleeeeaaaaasssssseeeee.....
Joe: That's a hell of a deal. I'm not sure if you're brilliant or evil.
Me, muttering as I give up and sit down at the piano: I think you're just selfish.
Rock Dad: I'm definitely evil.
Joe: I think maybe you're both.
Rock Dad: No, I'm just evil. If I were brilliant, I would have gotten his amp too.
Me: Where did you get that SG? Is that for me?
Me: If I can't afford an SG, you certainly can't. You borrowed it from the store, didn't you? (He works part-time in a guitar store.)
Rock Dad: No, really, it's mine. I bought it from a junkie down in the Oregon District.
Me: How much? Can I buy it from you? You know that's my dream guitar, right?
Rock Dad: I paid him $10, and no, you can't buy it from me. I'm keeping it.
Joe: No way! I can't believe you paid $10 for any Gibson. You bought it from a junkie?
Rock Dad: Yeah, he said he needed money, and I said I'd give him $7. He took it.
Me: You paid $10 for a Gibson SG, and you're not going to give it to me? What kind of son-in-law are you going to be? That's just wrong. I rescind your invitation to Christmas.
Rock Dad: I really paid $7 for it, but I had to do some work on it so it came to $10.
Me: You don't want an SG, and I do. How about I trade you my Fender Strat? The pickup is broken on your Strat, and mine is perfect. That's fair. Back me up here, Joe.
Joe: I'm not getting into that, but that's an amazing deal on that guitar.
Rock Dad: I don't want your Strat. I just ordered a better pickup for my Strat.
Me: So you don't even need that guitar. You're going to be playing your Strat all the time. Plllleeeeaaaaasssssseeeee.....
Joe: That's a hell of a deal. I'm not sure if you're brilliant or evil.
Me, muttering as I give up and sit down at the piano: I think you're just selfish.
Rock Dad: I'm definitely evil.
Joe: I think maybe you're both.
Rock Dad: No, I'm just evil. If I were brilliant, I would have gotten his amp too.
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