Boozing it up on a beautiful Sunday evening at my folk's place in Connecticut. My mother is cleaning out the kitchen in preparation for a town wide tag sale happening next weekend because that's how tiny this tiny town is. She finds some sort of red bag thingy and asks if I want it. She explains that it is a carry bag for hot dishes, 'like if you're going to a pot luck or something'.
I stared at her. "Who in the fuck do you think you're talking to?", I asked. She laughed and said: "You're right. I'll ask your sister." Now, I may be an asshole, but she thought I'm the type of person that cooks things and/or the type of person who attends potlucks. My own mother doesn't even know me at all...
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