Skills Like Thee Hath Never Seen. Now Including Update Skills.

04/25/2011 · 24 comments

in Adrian, Grace, How Did My Life Come To This, My Family Is Strikingly Odd., Social Services

Adrian and I spent Saturday setting up bookcases in our house.

It was a nice bonding moment when we were shopping for them in holy-shit-crowded IKEA. We simultaneously elbowed elderly invalids and screaming children into sharp corners. We were an unstoppable team, weaving through couches and diving under barstools. It was an epic shopping trip for the Gavin household.

The actual building of the bookcases, however, did not go as well.

Adrian: “So, here’s the drill. They use bits, like this. To change the bit–”
Me: “Yeah. I know how. Thanks.”
Adrian: “Okay. If you want to tighten the hinge, you tighten these screws–”
Me: “Right. Adrian. Remember how I told you that my stepdad used Grace and I as free labor to build shit every day for 12 years? I totally wasn’t fucking around. I have tool skills.”
Adrian: “Tool skills? That sounds like part of a standardized test.”
Me: “I’m about go all three-toed sloth on you.”
Adrian: “Noa…not a threat.”
Me: “FUCK OFF.”

At this point, I set down the screwdriver in lieu of texting my sister and not throwing the still-drilling drill right at Adrian’s left eyeball. We can never seem to manage to be fucking normal and build shit lovingly.

Me: “Thus far, Adrian has treated me as though a screwdriver is a new device. It’d be cute if it weren’t fucking annoying.”
Grace: “This is why wee have a firm “no construction projects” rule.”
Me: “He just showed me how to tighten a hinge. Yeah, done that once or twice homie.”
Grace: “Has he taught you how to change a drill bit? That was fun over at my house.”
Me: “Yep. Just walked away.”
Grace: “Well, maybe after you learn basic tool skills, you can learn the responsibility that comes with getting that dog you want so bad.”
Me: “THESE ARE ALL SKILLS I CURRENTLY POSSES, AND IN GREATER DETAIL AND SCOPE THAN HE.”
Grace: “So true. So hard not to insult their masculinity. Have you been told about my dinosaur skills?”
Me: “Um. What?”

Yeah. Dinosaur skills. My cat-like curiosity got the best of me, and she gave me a rundown of her and Damon’s entirely too-specific skill sets, utilized so often in their home.

Grace:

Dinosaur Skills: The ability to impersonate any dinosaur, though mostly only the Pterodactyl. I can picture it being both awesome and a little terrifying to see a small blonde woman shriek and wave her tiny arms while descending upon you.

UPDATE: Motherfucking Goat Skills: Grace texted me this morning, irritably informing me that I had left out her goat skills and therefore made her look less skilled than Damon. Grace has goat skills–the ability to whisper to goats. I don’t understand what this means, but it further solidifies my feelings of normalcy.

Damon:

Woods Skills: At the tender age of 5, Damon had to ride his bike, alone, near some woods and across a very busy street to get to school each day. But, in his words, his family trusted him to be okay because he has “woods skills.”

Woodsman Skills: Is somehow different than woods skills, though no one can tell me how. Perhaps Woodsman Skills is understanding those men on Swamp People who sound to me as if they’re trying to carry on a conversation while giving a llama a blowjob while getting drug over gravel.

Ninja Skills: It’s true. Damon, my cajun brother-in-law, is a ninja. Even I didn’t know, but then again, that’s probably what makes him a spectacular ninja.

Statue Skills: The ability to impersonate any statue. This skill obviously came about around the same time as his ninja skills, because no one would expect the statue in the corner to rip your fucking face right off.

I’ve never felt more normal in my entire life than that moment.

Have any way-too-specific skills?

hoodyhoo April 25, 2011 at 7:03 am

“We can never seem to manage to be fucking normal and build shit lovingly.” The hell you say! Every relationship I have ever had except this current one has included at least one vicious, sometimes bloody, fight regarding home repair or improvement. The reason Chuckweasel survives is that he has accepted that I am the man in this relationship — I fix shit while he fucks with his hair. He’s pretty.
hoodyhoo recently posted..Things I Don’t Know

Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:34 pm

I wish Adrian would just realize that I can fucking handle myself around tools, but no. He’s got to be “The Man,” even though it took him an hour and a half to put together five 1X1 cabinet doors.

SassyO April 25, 2011 at 8:12 am

Well, I was born without a right hand, and my nub is exactly the right size to perfectly press tart crust into mini muffin tins. My mother shamelessly utilized this skill for her own benefit, as she turned out beautifully executed pecan tartlets at parties.

Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:35 pm

I have so many jokes here about child labor, and stubby muffins and even a couple that include Indiana Jones, excitingly enough, but I feel all of them will send me right to hell.

SassyO April 25, 2011 at 2:49 pm

Girl, except for the ones about Indiana Jones (which I would LOVE to hear) , I’ve probably made the jokes myself. If we lived close to each other I’d have you over for cocktails and we could just go to town.

Noa April 26, 2011 at 9:42 pm

Now I’ve forgotten the Indiana Jones joke. Sad face.

elizabeth- flourish in progress April 25, 2011 at 10:57 am

There really isn’t anything I can say that’s going to beat Sassy’s skill.

But, my very small and not-that-great skill is that I can change in the backseat of a car, going from docile sweater sets and mom khakis to hooker shorts and bustier, apply a full face of makeup and tease and do my hair in three minutes flat. I haven’t had to utilize this skill in awhile…but it’s like riding a bike…once you know how to hookerize yourself in the backseat of a car (wait, wait, WAIT, not like THAT) you never forget.
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Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:36 pm

I’m really sad I’ve never seen this skill put to use. It could be a new olympic sport. Dress you up in a parka n’shit and then make you change completely for a world record. Maybe include accessories and a full makeup change.

Oh, the possibilities.

The Young Girl April 25, 2011 at 11:47 am

I am the baby whisperer. Can’t get a baby to sleep? give it to me. Baby doesn’t want to drink from a bottle? My wooing powers will overcome this dislike. Kids just love me.

I also can change clothes and put on make-up in the back seat of car but it takes me more like 10mins. though it shaves off precious mintues if you wear your hooker clothes under your sweater and khakis. I also haven’t had to use this skill since I moved out of my moms house but I’m sure I could do it again.
The Young Girl recently posted..Happy Birthday Old Man!

Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:37 pm

I don’t understand the baby whisperers. My cousin Lana is one too, and frankly, if I ever have kids, I’ll need to hire you.

I used to be able to change from regular clothes to a rather snug cheerleading outfit quickly, but then again, it’s been awhile.

The Young Girl April 27, 2011 at 3:32 pm

I was talking about this post to a friend and she reminded me I have awesome Velociraptor skills. I haven’t used these skills since I was a camp counselor but I bet they rival Graces’ pteryodactyl skills.
The Young Girl recently posted..No good- very bad day

Noa April 27, 2011 at 5:46 pm

Fuck yes Velociraptor skills.

Grace's Stalker April 25, 2011 at 12:38 pm

It needs to be said that when Grace told me about her dinosaur skills, she said she had Patakdydaryl skills….I then told her she also had dyslexic skills. We decided that a Patakdydaryl is a dyslexic pteryodactyl.

Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:38 pm

I love you for bringing this up. I so hoped you would, because I couldn’t find a way to work it in well.

Folks, this comment was written by a fellow Vet student with Grace. Most likely in class. These people are dedicated to funny.

Mom Of Wild Ones April 25, 2011 at 1:14 pm

I have several skills that do come in handy but none more than my skill to give a great blow job. yes I said it. My husband appreciates it and keeps things running nice and smooth at my house. Never under estimate the power of a great blow job.
Mom Of Wild Ones recently posted..Tutus are for Bad Asses

The Young Girl April 25, 2011 at 2:04 pm

“Never under estimate the power of a great blow job.”

Wiser words have never been spoken.
The Young Girl recently posted..Happy Birthday Old Man!

Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:40 pm

Young girl, she’s a good one to look up to. “Oh Noa: Funnier than your Grandma and inspiring people to give bj’s.”

Noa April 25, 2011 at 2:39 pm

After building the bookshelves, I couldn’t have been convinced to give a proper blowjob that did not include him shouting, “GOD DAMNIT NOA THOSE ARE TEETH.” I can, however, appreciate it’s usefulness in other situations.

Amanda April 25, 2011 at 8:55 pm

My major skill is teaching young children to curse with style at inopportune times. Like at nap time at school when my then 2 year old woke up, noticed everyone else was asleep, and said, “Well son of a bitch!” and then laid back down and went back to sleep. Somehow, whenever young children are around me, they learn new words.
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Noa April 26, 2011 at 9:42 pm

That is a FUCKING AMAZING skill. Your kids might be some of the only kids I like.

Lianne Marie Binks April 26, 2011 at 4:29 am

I am definitely the “man” in our relationship. An expression that I hate because it’s so disgustingly sexist but there you have it. I build walls, build furniture, plaster, fit carpets, do light plumbing and tile bathrooms. TheBoy is just about capable of ordering pizza without forgetting I’m allergic to mushrooms. Yesterday he asked me how to cook a baked potato.
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Noa April 26, 2011 at 9:41 pm

Adrian stared at me dumbfounded last night about how to re-heat a steak and then argued with me when I provided three different options. He might not get to keep his face so pretty.

momiss April 26, 2011 at 3:46 pm

I look at it more as a curse than a skill, but random people tell me the most intimate things. Things I do not want to know. Like that their husband wants to have sex with them 2 weeks after a baby has been born, or, even more horrifyingly, describe their bowel movements. ( I am not a nurse) (Not that that would be normal or polite either).
On the other hand, I can “make up” some pretty good scenarios and people think I have a good imagination. It’s not imagination. It’s being too kind to scream and throw rocks at people who need someone to talk to and apparently, don’t have friends.
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Noa April 26, 2011 at 9:40 pm

Throwing rocks would keep those people way. I know from experience.

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