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A couple months ago I told Bosshole I named TRC after her. You can click over for the story but the short version is she pretended to be offended and said, “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”  And, for once, I was quick enough to say, “No. It’s because the cat is black.”  Which amused me more than it amused her, I think.

Today she told me she brought in buffalo fish for lunch.

Me: What’s buffalo fish?

Bosshole: You’ve never heard of buffalo fish?

Me: I’ve heard of buffalo chips – and if it’s the same thing, then you can keep it.

Bosshole: It’s kind of like carp.

Me: I’ve heard of that, just not buffalo fish.

Bosshole (whispering): It’s because you’re white.

Me (not whispering): I can’t help it! I didn’t get to pick my parents!

(By this time Carole – the one who looked for Jesus to go with her crackers – was staring at us, but she could only hear my side of the conversation)

Me: I didn’t ask to be born, you know! I’ve struggled with this my whole life and you think it’s okay to make fun of me for something I can’t control. I can’t even get a tan!

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