I was twelve. Had just gotten home from school. Hot, tired and unbearably thirsty. My mom said something to me as I came in the door, and I know I answered, but I guess I didn’t answer with total sweetness and light, because I was focused on getting to the fridge and finding something cold.
While I was opening a can of pineapple juice and swigging it, she asked, in a very combative tone, “Gonna keep it up? Gonna keep on bein’ a bitch?” (Remember, she asked one question, whatever it was, and I did answer.)
I finished the juice, put the can down, and replied, “Keep talking like that and I will.”
I wish it were mine, but it came from my brother. I was reading a paper and noted that Lynn Strait, the vocalist of the alt/punk group Snot, had died in a car accident.
My brother’s response: “Poor little booger.”
Couldn’t stop laughing for five or ten minutes afterward.
A co-worker showed me a photo of her son at his Italian bakery. He was standing in front of an oven, and everything in the room was in focus. I took a quick look, and said, “Oh, it’s Citizen Cannoli.” I surprised myself.
Setting: I’m in high school, it’s summer break, and it’s 8:15 A.M. I am asleep. The phone rings.
Me: Mmmm hello?
Chirpy voice: Hello, is this Jennifer?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Chirpy voice: Hi! This is Mrs. Recruiter from the United States Marine Corps! What are you doing up so early?
Me: Answering the phone.
Recruiter: …
Her voice got considerably less chirpy after that. She apologized for waking me and ended the call. Such a simple retort, yet surprisingly effective. . .
A guy who just got married was sitting at the bar with one of his old work friends . The buddy said lets go to whore house. The newlywed said 'Why I get all I want at home".
The buddy said,“OK lets go to your house”.
A girl at a small party was being incredibly rude to me for very little reason. Eventually I decided I’d had enough, at which point I proceeded to ask her:
“Damn, is your vagina as sharp as your tongue?”
She sputtered a bit and left, followed by oohs and murmured applause. Mean? Sure. Worth it? Hell yes.
Fronted up to my usual breakfast haunt on the way to work, and I guess the server was a little distracted, but she was talking in shorthand that day for some reason:
Probably in the ‘you had to be there’ category, but anyway.
French class my second year in uni. For some reason the class before us had opened the divider between two connected class rooms, so what used to be a fairly small, cozy class room for 15 now was cavernous hall for 50. Of course my buddy and I sat at the very back; as in, ‘I think that’s the chalkboard’ far from the front. Everyone else comes in and sits in their usual spots near the front. Finally the teacher comes in, and kind of does a double-take when she sees us two doofuses at the back.
There’s a slight pause, and I break the silence by piping up, ‘Boy, you better write BIG today!’. Busted guts all around.
Second prize goes to my mom. It’s a few days before christmas, I get up early - probably on my way to work or something. It’s early, like 6am. I find my mom wrapping presents in the kitchen, I think she was trying to wrap them before my younger siblings woke up.
‘Wow, pretty early to be wrapping’, I remark.
She doesn’t miss a beat, starts throwing down hip-hop moves and starts ‘rapping’, ‘And my name is Sandy, booha booha’. Coming from the whitest 60-yr old woman you can possibly imagine. I damn near peed my pants from laughing.
I don’t remember why he was talking about it, but there was a large group of us and one guy was being a jackass. In front of everyone, he said, “At least I got some when I was a sperm!” After a few seconds of silence, I asked, “from your mom?” He got in his car and left.
High school, senior year, choir class. Have reached the point where I no longer care: I want to do a good job, sure, but popularity? Friends? Meh.
I’ve been transferred over to the soprano section from the altos: apparently Mr. Allen wants me to expand my range. Sopranos are known for being blonde and singing quietly, and I was never either, but it can be kind of hard to sing loudly in a soprano voice. I was an alto before. My best friend was an alto. She was also on the other side of the room from me along with a tacky, loudmouthed, obnoxious little wench who always sang loudly, badly, and flat. I’m going to call her Barbara because that wasn’t her name.
We’d just finished with a really terrible rendition of… something, I forget the song. We’re all sitting in some mute embarrassment – all except Barbara. Barbara snides “The sopranos are too quiet.”
You know how voices carry in an auditorium? You know how they can carry even when you’re muttering under your breath? I do.
“Barbara,” I muttered, in a voice that carried to the very heavens, “you’re not quiet enough.”
Silence. Utter silence. Then the entire room, to include the choir teacher, burst into helpless laughter.
I have had better come-backs, but that one had the widest effect.
I am pretty sure I didn’t make it up, but I can’t remember where I had first heard it. I rolled it around in my head until the perfect moment presented itself. One of my family members was an insufferable know-it-all. One day, when he was being excessively boorish, I said, “You know, between you and me, we probably know everything there is to know in the world.”
He actually nodded and said, “I think you’re right.”
I followed up with, “Because you seem to know everything except for the fact that you are an utter jerk, and I know that!”
Me and my friend Tom went to see his brother do a show at the old Heritage USA ampitheater (Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker’s former stomping grounds). They did a musical based on Jesus, complete with miles of silk cloth to simulate Heaven. Tom and I are utter heathens, but we were there to give his brother moral support. We got invited to hang around with the cast at Applebee’s after the show.
They were nice people, and I didn’t want to be snarky to them. They asked us what church we went to, and we danced around those types of questions as best we could. The guy who played Jesus had to leave early. After he told everybody goodbye, I said “See you in three days.”
The cast looked at me in utter silence with smiles frozen on their faces. They couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be offended. I just shrugged and said “I thought he was really good.”
This is more unquenchably vulgar than witty, but here goes:
A guy I used to work with used to use the whole “your mom” thing as a riposte. I started using it back to him. I’d ask him to do something, he’d whine that he didn’t want to, and I’d reply that his mom had said the same thing last night. Granted, this got old after a while–I do tend to linger on things. Finally, one day he came back with, “Stu, where does my mother live?”
Without skipping a beat, I executed a crotch-chop and replied: “On top o’ my DIIIICCCKKKK!”
For a moment, his face bore the look of a man who had been pushed too far.
My college roommate was experimenting with pipes and tobacco. He asked if I liked the smell. I said “It reminds me of my grandfather.” I paused for a beat then added, “he’s been dead for several years.”
