The Banter Report
My living room.
My mom: We don’t even use a tent anymore when we go camping. Too damp and lumpy. What we do now is just throw a mattress in the back of the van.
Me: You know, you’re not the only ones to come up with that idea. Rapists do that too.
My mom: Well, it beats raping people in a tent.
My girlfriend becomes simultaneously more and less comfortable around my mother.
* * *
At the local garden centre.
Me [placing bag of dirt on cart; imitating Marion Ramsey from Police Academy]: Don’t move, dirtbag!
My girlfriend: Come on, dirtbag. Let’s go.
Me: Look at that girl. She’s picking up three dirtbags!
My girlfriend: And she’s taking them home!
Me: In my day, we had a word for a girl who picked up three dirtbags and took them home: a gardener.
I spend most of the walk home explaining the recurring gag involving Marion Ramsey’s mild-mannered character from the Police Academy movies, none of which my girlfriend has ever seen.
* * *
On the patio, after my girlfriend has finished planting her container garden, listening to the Beach Boys.
Me: You know what song I should have been playing for you while you were working?
My girlfriend: “Vegetables”?
Me: Yes. Maybe I should come up with a whole mix CD for you to listen to…. Actually, I can’t think of a single other song about vegetables.
My girlfriend: “Girlfriend in a Coma”?
My girlfriend is delighted when I get up and leave, saying, “I’m going to go Banter Report that.” She is less delighted when, a half hour later, I’ve gotten too distracted Googling “songs about potatoes” to come back.
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