(Takes place in a very loud bar during a punk show. Yes, I attend punk shows. Yes, I enjoy punk music. No, I do not fit in. I am the sore, preppy thumb that sticks out, and I want to scream out that I had multi-colored hair in high school, could fit multiple small children in my baggy jeans, and was thus cool by late-nineties standards. I don’t think anyone would believe me, though.)

Sister: “I want [indecipherable].”
Me: “Band-aids?”
Sister: [Repeats word and makes upside down triangle with hands and a motion like she's eating it with a utensil.]
Me: “Vagina?”
Sister: “PANCAKES.”

I swear, I am like a twelve year old who thinks everything is a reference to hoo hoos and wieners.