I’m sure I have a bunch of these, but two spring to mind.
Maybe 10 years ago I was talking to my GF about her job. She mentioned that they were having some sort of contest in which the winner would get a Blackberry. I asked “Um, just one? Wouldn’t they give you a whole pint or something?”
When I was in junior high, I was talking to my parents about one of my friends. I wasn’t sure of his first name, but I knew his last name was Douche. It must have been, because that’s what everyone called him. I couldn’t understand why my parents looked so mortified.
I first heard of Blackberrys* in a Dilbert strip. I thought it was just a case of comic strip randomness, that Dilbert was trying to contact someone using a piece of fruit.
I had spent a week in the mountains of Haiti, completely off the grid, helping a misssion there get off the ground. The penultimate day of the trip some local boys guided us on a hike to the top of the nearest mountain. As we relaxed at the top, sharing or bottled water and snacks with our guides (who had, over the course of the hike, become legion!) I noticed one local teen boy squatted down and staring intently at a small pile of leaves and stones. He would use his index finder to slowly move the leaves one at a time and would occasionally lift a rock gingerly and discard it. My curiosity got the best of me, as I could not imagine what he may be hunting. We had alread found and admired a fair sized tarantula earlier in the hike. Finally, after 5-10 minutes of meticulously digging through leaves and shifting rocks, he reached down with his thumb and index finger and grasped - something. He slowly pulled his prize from the forest floor, grinned and held it up for me to see. He had dropped his SIM card.
The first time I spent some time in Quebec, I was surprised by the number of Alcoholics Anonymous branches that had storefront offices and advertised; until I realised that “Société des alcools” meant “Liquor store”, not “Group for Alcoholics”.
When I was a teenager I was on the phone with my best friend at the time, and I was talking to him about somebody. I couldn’t remember the guy’s name, but I thought it might be Holmes since that’s what some other guys were calling him :smack:
I didn’t figure out it was slang until I heard my friend using it the next day, which means he let me make a fool out of myself and didn’t correct me. :mad:
My sister’s in-laws are the same. Lebanese. I got this sneer one Christmas dinner from the matriarch when I refused seconds. Food was great, but I was full.
This isn’t mine, but a woman I worked with 5 years ago. She has black hair and olive skin, and had been told by her parents that they came from Lebanon. It wasn’t until she was nearly grown up that she discovered they meant Lebanon, Pennsylvania.
A few years ago, I was providing music for a Mormon youth group dance. The organizer asked if I’d like some Koolade or lemonade. I needed to drink something, but I hate sugary drinks, so I declined. Nice lady re-offers, with the additional phrase “or something else?” I asked for coffee. :smack:
More recently, my brother-in-law posted on Facebook that he was heading out to see Rush. Mom chimed in with a bunch of yammering about his politics… :smack::smack:
This. Plan ahead to have three plates if you can and make them small. For some reason this is not insulting as refusing seconds (if you work it right and can do thirds you’ll be family from that day on).
You damned well better eat it anyway, because there are starving children in Ethiopia.
No, I never understood the logic of this.
Part of this is that the grandmothers are symbolically giving you love when they give you food. If you reject the food, you are, in their minds, rejecting their love. Much drama will result.
You plan. You purposefully eat a little less so you can take a little more when she comes back, and even if you are full, just take a little something. “I’ll have some more of the peas, they were delicious!”
My mother-in-law loves to cook, and her food is atrocious. She makes these 1950s-style “salads” that incorporate loads of mayonnaise and fruit bits along with celery and… you know what, I can’t even talk about this. Suffice it to say, her tastes and mine are not similar.
Anyway, when we visit, I just take very small amounts of everything, nibble at it a bit, and then kind of smoosh it around on my plate so it takes up more space and makes the plate look like it used to have tons of food on it that has now been eaten. She may be on to my ruse but if so she has never said anything. Maybe she just thinks I’m a picky eater.