Morning me is rarely amused by late-night me’s incessant food-related emails. #food

In which my dad learns about purses and jeans sizes.

  • My dad: Your sister's crazy. Who'd want a $200 purse?
  • Me: She does.
  • My dad: What is it with ladies purses, anyway?
  • Me: (glancing at my purse) What do you mean?
  • My dad: How did that start--I mean, why do women use them? Doesn't it get tiring carrying a bag around all the time?
  • Me: (stands up and turns around) See those pockets?
  • My dad: ... Yes?
  • Me: What can I fit in them?
  • My dad: What?
  • Me: How many things do you think I could fit in my pockets? Honestly. How many things?
  • My dad: Doesn't look like you could fit much.
  • Me: A pack of Orbit, some folded bills, and that's about it. That's why we use purses--because we can't carry our shit in our pockets like you do.
  • My dad: But I can fit my wallet, my keys, and my cigarettes in my pockets!
  • Me: And your jeans also fit the way they should.
  • My dad: I'm almost afraid to ask, but what do you mean?
  • Me: Your jeans are sized by, what, your inseam and waist, right?
  • My dad: ... Aren't yours?
  • Me: I'm a size 3.
  • My dad: 3 what?
  • Me: No, just a 3. A size 3.
  • My dad: What does that mean?
  • Me: I actually have no idea. I'm a size 3 in these jeans. In some other jeans, I'm a 5. I'm a 7 in my favorite pair of shorts.
  • My dad: Wait, it's not the same?
  • Me: Nope. A size 3 in one brand's jeans is completely different from a size 3 in another brand.
  • My dad: That's fucking stupid! How do you shop for them?!
  • Me: With great difficulty. This is why when you ask me what I did during the week and despite the fact I know you won't care I sometimes tell you I found a pair of jeans. Because finding a pair of jeans that fit and fit well is like finding the Holy Grail with your name encrusted in diamonds on it

Pictured: The Tessasaurus, a creature known for licking electrical outlets and eating toads.