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I really need to work on my reflexes.
I've made two pizza crusts from scratch. I take one; my sister takes the other, and we're both in the kitchen assembling our respective pies. Mine goes in the oven while Jill is finishing up her toppings.
Despite the fact that we're both using the exact same dough I made from scratch, and pretty much the exact same toppings, some good-natured trash talking starts (it's just what we do... we're only 13 months apart, okay?) about whose pizza is going to be better. Jill ends it with a well-timed "np."
A few seconds pass. Jill sprinkles more cheese on her pizza.
"What's 'np'?" My mom asks.
"Nigga, please," Jill explains, matter-of-factly.
A few more seconds pass. (Wait for it.)
"But... what's a niggaplease?"
I really should have taken that opportunity to respond, straight-faced, with any of the following:
1) "I'm not sure, but I bet Grandmom knows. You should call her and ask."
2) A made-up definition - like, "A native or person inhabiting the island nation of Niggapl."
Instead, I just laughed hysterically until I nearly cried.
(But at least I didn't snort.)
5 Comments |
Tuesday October 30th 2007 at 7:26pm from Jenny +
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God, I love your family.
"What's a Nubian?"
Don't let TMZ.com get wind of this, or someone will have to go to rehab or something.
Aaahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I love answer #2!
Hey, I didn't forget about your CD. Last week was the week from hell and I just didn't get around to it. Joseph had to have emergency surgery (nothing major and scary... just expensive and inconvenient and not much fun) and grades are due this week and blah, blah, blah. It sucks being a grownup. Heh.
CD goes out in the morning... I promise.
This was my birthday.