(This conversation between my friend and I happens every time I see the episode of Family Guy where Peter becomes obsessed with the song ‘Surfin’ Bird’)

Me: “Hey, have you heard?”

Friend: “If you say ‘the bird is the word,’ I will smite you.”

Me: “So… how are things?”

(My friend and I are IMing, and have gotten on the subject of PhotoShop and how much you can do with it.)

Friend: “The content-aware fill tool is frightening witchcraft. I feel like before using it I should be sacrificing a goat or something.”

(I’m talking with my friend during class break. Somehow, we end up talking about Pastafarianism, a parody religion that parodies Christianity, and that holds the Flying Spaghetti Monster as its divinity. He identifies himself with Pastafarianism; I identify myself as an agnostic Roman Catholic.)

Me: “So you believe in pasta…”

Friend: “Yep”

Me: “But you eat pasta! Shame on you! You’re eating your god!”

Friend: “…”

Me: “Wait! I also eat my god…”

(My honor’s physics teacher has an unusual grading system. All homework is technically extra credit, and the points are added on to our next test grade. He also curves each test. The result is that he has to read off grading scale for that particular test every time. If no one got a particular point value, he has a little fun:)

Teacher: “Here are the grades for the test. If you got +3, ‘A.’ +2, ‘A.’ +1, ‘A.’ Even if you did no homework and got a perfect score on the test for +0 points… ‘A.’ -1, ‘F.’ -2, ‘A’…”

(The first semester of my senior year was spent away from my usual school. When I come back, I am disappointed that all my classes will be more review of material that I have already covered in my first semester. This is in English class where I’m distracted helping a friend with a calculus proof he’d been working on for months.)

Teacher: “So who wrote that, do you suppose, Mr. [My Name].”

Me: “Lord Byron.”

Teacher: “You’ve been reading that math and not paying attention in my class. How did you know the answer?”

Me: “I covered all the 19th century poets last semester.”

Teacher: “You couldn’t have. We only cover them second semester.”

Me: “I wasn’t here at [School].” *looking down at the paper, mumbling* “Great, now where was I?”

Teacher: “You will pay attention in my class!”

Me: “I’m trying to, but you are distracting them.” *pointing to the rest of the class*

(She glared for a bit, but decided it wasn’t worth more argument. I aced the class.)