This really happened.

This entry is dedicated to Stacy Rogers

This is a real conversation that happened with me and my parents during and after dinner last night. Indeed, feel sorry for me.

(Before dinner, Mom, Noah, Graham-Scottie, and Spike-Boston Terrier are in the kitchen getting things ready.)

Me: Do you need help cutting potatoes?

Mom: Uh, sure.
(she walks past Graham)
Pee-yoo, dog! You stink! You need to get a bath! (All yelled)

Me: Don't yell at my dog.

Mom: What?

Me: Don't yell at him. If you want me to give him a bath say, "Noah, I think you should give Graham a bath tomorrow." Seriously he has no control over that.

Mom: Whatever! (like she's 13 or something)

(10 min passes, I don't talk to her, she feels bad about yelling at my dog, The Simpsons is on)

Mom: Bert sounds funny. Huh, he looks a lot like his dad. Doesn't he? They look a lot alike.

Dad: Well, yeah, they're related.

Mom: Well, what about that one with the blue hair ( pointing at Milhouse) Are they related? They're all yellow.

Dad: No Emily, his name is Bart.

Mom: Huh? What? Oh, Jake took me and Susie to Missouri to get cheep gas and then we went to the town where the Popeye author lives. There's a statue there- for Popeye, not the author. Did you know they based the movie on the town where he lives.

Me: You mean the Popeye movie with Robin Williams? The one that was set in a fisherman's village on the ocean? Not in Missouri. I don't think so.
Mom: What?

(an Obama commercial comes on, we watch TV during dinner to avoid Mom from talking about kindergartners with disabilities)

Me: I like Obama. He's like a new JFK. He's pretty and most importantly not an idiot.

Mom: Oh, once your grandfather heard that Obama was running for the Democrats, he said there was no way he was voting for a black man, so now he's voting McCain..........

Me: Well, that's not very wise.

Mom: Well, I always vote Republican. I would just hope that the Democrats could have picked someone less controversial.

Me: What do you mean?

Mom: Well, it's, with him, the fact that he's.....I don't even know how to have a conversation with you! I'm tired.

(after I was done screaming in my head, Dad was vacuuming the sunroom by hand with a Dustbuster (!), my dog-Graham hates vacuums)

Dad: Huh, he really doesn't like this.
( he chases my dog with the Dustbuster)
He tried to attack it!

Me: Well, it scares him.
(he continues to chase him with the Dustbuster)

Dad: He tried to hit the button!

Mom: What? Oh! How does he even know what it is? Noah, do you have a Dustbuster?

Me: He looked it up online.

Mom: What? Huh? Well, When I took them outside this morning, wow, your dog pees a lot. It's like 4 quarts. It takes like 5 minutes. Oh, and man do they not want to poop in front of eachother. Spike doesn't want to poop in front of him and Grah....

Me: I get it. Thanks, I understand.

Now this may not seem funny to you, but when you think of of all of the miscommunication and factor in that it all happened in real time, and the fact that no alcohol was involved- it's very funny......in a "oh, God take me now" type of way. And it happens everyday.