When telling these stories in person, some people seem shocked and appalled at the way I talk about my grandparents. I often get remarks like "you're horrible" and "oh my god, you're horrible."
I ask you this question though: have you roomed with your grandparents? When you live with your grandparents in college, all of the happiness you saw in them as a child slowly evolves into something less magical.
Think of it this way. All of the time between getting birthday money from them and going over for Thanksgiving Dinner is jam packed with normal conversation, Fox News, bickering over useless information, Fox News, fetching expired food from the freezer, and Fox News. It's not that my relationship with my grandma has gone sour, but rather, become something more real. Living there gave me (and my brother and cousin) something like bragging rights. That's not the right term though by any means...perhaps "Bitching Rights".
For instance, when I say to a group of friends, "My grandma called me Mr. Long Arms today." A collective "aww" is heard until I continue with, "Then I back-handed her."
"OH MY GAWD YOU'RE HORRIBLE!"
"It's okay, I live with her" doesn't seem to cut it. But nobody realizes that living with your grandparents takes away the childhood happiness and replaces it with a more human respect. I enjoy the humor in the generation differences, too.
I still wouldn't share with my grandma that I tell people I back-hand her.
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