My parents have an uncanny ability insult to the careers of the people I date. It's not their fault really, it's more a lack of understanding. Though I can't say I've disagreed with their assessments entirely.
One ex told my parents he was going to go to architecture school, to which my dad replied, "Architecture? What's there to now about building a building? I've never understood why anyone would go to school for architecture. I've helped build half-a-dozen buildings and I never went to school for architecture."
I tried to rescue the conversation with, "Well dad, you have to know where to put the plumbing and stuff."
"Yeah, how hard is that?"
Ray Daugherty, architect flamer.
That same ex boyfriend happened to be a graphic designer (as a few of them have been), which was another mystery to my parents. "He designs the Bounce box? It just says Bounce on it, right?"
"Well, right. But sometimes it also says, 'Now more fresher!' Or whatever," I added, weakly.
My mom was the launcher of that insult. Who knew Susie Daugherty could rocket such accidental put downs. (But my god it was hilarious. I still crack up over it.)
Recently I acquired a chemist acquaintance who works on paper. Specifically, paper towel. (I've never known any chemists - nor have I ever taken a chemistry class for that matter - but you know it when you see it, right?) I was mentioning this to my mom and we couldn't help but note that paper seems largely figured out to us.
Paper towel? A 40-hour a week job? Seems like we've kind of nailed it already, right? I feel confident in saying I'm happy with where we are in the world in terms of absorbency and softness. But whatever.
Then my mom informed me I need a man who "works with his hands, like your daddy."
"Hell, I'd be fine if he could just carry the cat litter up the steps," I told her.
Sometimes I feel almost sorry for the poor saps who have to meet my parents. They don't mean to be, but Ray and Susie can be harsh critics. They're filterless.
Hmm... this is sounding familiar.
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