I wish I could NOT overhear everything he says.

I think the only euphemism for something "unpleasant" I hate more than "make love" is "passed away" (or "passed on"). No, my grandmother didn't "pass away." She's dead. She's embalmed, covered in funeral home makeup and buried in an overpriced casket in the ground.

Also, according to my father, the reason I moved back to Massachusetts last year was because "[I] didn't like the public transportation out there." Jesus Christ, Dad, if you're going to overshare, you may as well tell people that I had a nervous fucking breakdown. I mean, you basically tell people my exact address and social security number anyway.